“Shush,” Miles said. “We’ve all got to be very quiet, okay?” He squeezed both children close to him.

Just as Katie fumbled with the dead bolt on the front door, there was a loud explosion behind them that sent flames and heat out at them through the kitchen hall. Someone had tossed a bomb into the kitchen, where he and Katie had been drinking tea not more than five minutes before. Miles automatically turned his back to the heat to protect the children. Katie bounced back, blinked to clear the shock out of her head, and said, so mad she was stuttering, “The house, s-some idiot just b-blew up my damned house!”

There was a crackling of flames behind them.

Katie pulled the door open and ran out. “We’re alive, thanks to you,” Miles said as he raced out the door behind her.

“Wait!”

Her gun was out, and she was crouched down, making a sweep. She couldn’t see anything through the deluge. There was nothing else she could do. She waved them forward. Miles, huddled over the kids, raced after her.

The rain pelted them, soaking them to the skin within seconds, and there were gusts of wind that forced them to bow forward and brace themselves. Katie led them straight to her truck. “Get in, Miles!”

She turned the key in the ignition and slammed the car into reverse, but the wheels spun. The ground had turned to sucking mud in the heavy rain.

The wheels finally gained traction when Katie ripped the truck back in reverse a second time. She barely missed the huge oak tree that was the oldest thing in her yard. Mud was flying from under the wheels, splashing the side windows, but they were free and that was all that mattered.

In that instant there was a sharp ping, like the sound of something hitting metal, and then another.

“Someone’s shooting at us,” Katie said low, her voice controlled. “Get the kids down, Miles.”

He worked both children down into the space in front of the passenger seat. They were holding each other tightly, not making a sound. How much more of this could two little kids take?

“Keep your head down,” Katie said, all matter-of-fact. “I’m getting us out of here.”

She hit the gas the instant after she shifted into drive, and the truck shot forward. They heard a tremendous explosion that rocked the truck. Katie stopped the truck and jerked around, even as she dialed 911.

“Those bastards-my house is on fire!” She got her night dispatcher, Lewis, and snapped out instructions to him. “Get every deputy out to my house along with the fire department. And Lewis, Danny and Jeffrey never showed up at two o’clock to take over guard duty.”

“Sheriff, they told me they were just going to be a few minutes late. Some kids busted out both their back tires.”

“Yeah, right, some kids,” Katie said. “Well, at least they’re okay.”

When she’d hung up, she said, her voice flat and calm, “Miles, you take the kids to the sheriff’s office. Lock yourselves in a cell. Keely, Sam, it will be all right. Do what Miles tells you. I’ll be with you as soon as I can.”

“Mama!”

Katie didn’t hesitate, she was out of the truck, sliding in the mud and rain, running back toward her burning house, her gun drawn.

Where were the idiots who’d fired at them? Surely there was no reason for them to stay now with Sam gone. But whoever had done this had gone over the edge. Nothing could surprise her now.

She was crouched down, until she was under tree cover again as she made her way to the side of her burning house. She felt the heat billowing off her house, felt a spark strike her hand, and shook her fingers, cursing. She looked down to see her burned flesh. It hurt like the devil, but she had nothing to wrap it up with. She shook her hand to cool it, then knew she had to forget it.

They’d thrown the bomb into the kitchen. Why? To flush them out? The kitchen was the farthest room from the guest room where Sam was sleeping. They’d probably known that. The last thing they seemed to want was to hurt Sam.

It seemed like years passed before she heard the deputies, the firemen. The bombers were gone, no reason for them to hang around since their target had escaped.

Suddenly, she heard another gunshot. At the same time, her cell phone rang. She yelled into the phone even as she rolled behind a garbage can, “Wade, stay put, that’s an order! The moron who bombed the house just shot at me!”

Another shot, this one a good twenty feet away. She saw Wade coming around the corner, and yelled, “Don’t come any closer, Wade! Get more deputies and get down!”

But Wade just kept running toward her, his gun fanning as he ran. Soon, four deputies were there, yelling, running into each other, trying to avoid flying sparks from Katie’s burning house.

“All of you be careful,” Katie yelled.

Wade was panting when he reached her. He saw the blood on her hand and turned white. “My God, your hand.”

“No, I’m all right, it was a flying spark. Wade, take the guys and check in the woods. See what you can find.”

Not many minutes later, she slowly rose to see Wade come running toward her through the thick rain. He was shaking his head.

“Nothing?”

“Not a single damned thing. Hell, Katie, this whole thing’s so off-the-wall. What do we do now?”

“We search every inch around here and see what we can find.” She pointed him to the shards of glass sticking out of the mud. “They dropped that one and broke it, but its brother went through my kitchen window.” She looked down at her hand. Wade pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and tied it around her hand. “There, that’s better than nothing.”

She looked up at Wade. “Thanks. At least the bastards didn’t follow Miles into Jessborough. They’ve got to be okay.”

31

M iles had got himself under control because, simply, there was no choice. “Your mama will be just fine,” he said as he eased himself behind the wheel. “Now, Sam, Keely, I want you both to sit in the passenger seat and snuggle under those blankets.”

They were wet and scared, their teeth chattering, and Miles turned the heat on high. “You guys know what? I’d really appreciate it if you’d sing me a song.”

The children, bless their hearts, sang themselves hoarse. “Puff the Magic Dragon” had never sounded so good. He knew they were scared, knew they were dealing with it, just as he was, and he was very proud of both of them. Within minutes, he heard sirens, saw sheriff cars, red lights flashing; he pulled the truck off onto a side street while they streamed past, headed to Katie’s burning house. Thank God it was raining so hard, the house just might survive.

He was praying Katie was all right as he scooped both children into his arms, charged through the door of City Hall, veered to the right, where the sheriff’s department was housed.

Lewis, the night dispatcher, waved them in. Then the outer door whooshed open again and there was Linnie, running through the doors right behind them, wearing jeans, boots, a huge sweatshirt with an extra-large bomber jacket over it, and rollers in her hair.

“This way,” she said and smiled down at the children, just as calm and cool as Katie had been. His own heart was pounding and he wanted to hit something.

The phone rang and Lewis was on it.

“Everything is fine,” Linnie said, leaning down to hug both children. “Listen to me now, I don’t want you two worrying. Your mama’s really tough, Keely, you know that. And Sam, your papa’s right here, big and mean, and no one would mess with him. Now, come this way and we’ll get you dry.”

Sam stared up at his father, his small mouth working.

Miles came down on his knees next to Sam and Keely, drew them both into the circle of his arms. “Linnie’s here to take care of you guys. She’s going to get you dry and warm.”

The kids, pale and wet, stared up at him, saying nothing. They weren’t buying it, and he was trying his very best, dammit.