The Naked Edge

The man next to her--stout, bearded, with wooly hair--was Mrs. Patterson's son-in-law, one of the best horse trainers in the valley. "Good directions, Jamie."

"Thanks." When Kyle had picked up Mrs. Patterson at the barracks, Jamie had explained what needed to be done. "You won't be safe with your family," she'd told Mrs. Patterson. "The people who attacked us know you matter to us. They might try to grab you and use you against us. Plus, your family won't be safe if somebody on the assault team follows you to them."

"Jamie told you I need a favor?" Cavanaugh asked Kyle.

"The loan of my truck. Sure. Anything to keep Lillian safe."

"Count on it," Cavanaugh said. "This officer will make sure no one's following his police van when he drives you home."

Kyle gave Cavanaugh the keys to the truck. "Where are you taking Lillian?"

"Can't tell you in case a couple of guys with guns come around and ask you."

"Anybody who tries'll be dodging slugs from a deer rifle. No matter what, I wouldn't tell," Kyle emphasized.

Cavanaugh thought, But what if they put a gun to your daughter's face?

In the distance, the pursuing sirens echoed.

Chapter 8.

"The cops must have radioed ahead!" the voice blurted from the two-way radio. Sirens shrieked in the background. "We're in Jackson! They've got two police cars parked sideways, blocking the street! The other police cars are still chasing us!"

Saddened, the man who called himself Bowie shook his head. He had spent the past month with the team he spoke to. He had shared meals with them, slept in the same room, and gotten to know all the pathetic, painful outrages that had been done to them throughout their lives. Social conservatives would argue that those outrages were nothing more than excuses these men used to justify their outrageous acts. There was truth to that viewpoint, Bowie thought. No matter how damaged people were, they needed to accept responsibility for their actions. They needed to exert control over themselves. Without discipline, chaos reigned. He had learned that lesson with great difficulty.

"I'm going to do a one-eighty!" the voice yelled.

Leaning closer to the radio receiver, Bowie heard tires squealing.

"They're blocking us that way, too!" the voice yelled.

Yes, chaos needs to be eliminated, Bowie thought.

Melancholy, he reached for a transmitter next to him. He pressed its "on" button and saw a red light appear. When he pressed another button, a green light appeared.

In the distance, a sound like thunder rumbled through the night.

Chapter 9.

Speeding toward the car, the state trooper stared beyond it toward the flashing lights of the Jackson police cars that blocked a main street through the small town. Almost got them, he thought. One thing they're not is reporters.

Suddenly, the quarry ahead executed a 180-degree turn. With equal abruptness, the trooper pressed his brake pedal enough to give him traction but not lock the brakes. He swerved so that his patrol car blocked the left side of the almost deserted street. The cruiser following him performed an equivalent maneuver, blocking the right side of the street.

He scrambled outside, drew his Glock .40, and took a position behind the engine area, aiming toward the vehicle that sped toward him. His fellow officer did the same. If the car tried to ram them, they would flee toward the protection of the storefronts on each side. If the car stopped and its occupants decided to try shooting their way to freedom, the troopers would teach them the error of their ways.

The car sped closer, veering to the right, hoping to slip between the cruiser and the sidewalk.

It exploded, the shockwave hurling the trooper backward, slamming him onto the street. The flash seared his vision. The ringing in his head was agony. As his mind spun, he felt pressure in his chest, air being sucked from his lungs.

Wet. Why does my face feel wet? He pawed his cheeks. Blood. My God, I'm bleeding.

Chunks of metal crashed around him. Something soft and wet fell on him. Beyond the ringing in his ears, he heard the other trooper screaming. Then he realized, he was the one who was screaming.

Chapter 10.

As the pickup truck worked its way up a slope, Cavanaugh heard the blast from the direction of town. Using only parking lights so that the truck would be difficult to follow, Jamie drove, Mrs. Patterson and William sitting next to her. With no more space in the cabin, Cavanaugh sat in the truck's uncovered back.

He felt the explosion as much as he heard it. In the murky distance, a fireball illuminated the night, showing him that the explosion came from the direction of town.

The truck's back window slid open. "My God, what caused that?" Jamie asked through the opening.

Cavanaugh was reminded of what Garth had said when he'd arrived at the ruin of Cavanaugh's home--looks like a war zone. "This is begi