"Go after him, Deputy Greyson," Sidor's voice rumbled out, the floor shaking. "I'll head him off at the back door." He turned and broke into a run, the shadows streaking in the air behind him. He had no celerity, and little blood in him to power such a discipline even if he could call on it. Nor had he been a sprinter in life.
Still, this would cut off Anton's escape, and he could move down towards them if Flores didn't catch up. Tactically, it made sense, to prevent the escape. He cursed internally that Flores had been such an ungodly coward that he had fled instead of freezing. He had not thought the man would be that weak, or that frail.
He'd been wrong before.