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“They were running at a good clip, Sheriff,” Penny said. She and Dix waved all the deputies forward at a dead run into the woods.

They met up with B.B. and Claus, already in the trees, and the four of them followed what was left of the men’s tracks. Instead of snow tracks, they soon saw small clumps of snow that had fallen off the men’s boots, and lots of broken and partially naked tree branches the men had run into in their hurry to escape. It took time, with their four flashlights trained, as the obvious signs of passage faded away. The trail passed through to the western edge of the woods, then back in for about twenty more feet, then out again. “Listen,” Dix said.

They heard an engine fire up, and broke into a run. They cleared a stand of oak trees to see a dark truck fishtailing its way onto Wolf Trap Road, one road over from Dix’s house. Snow and gravel fantailed, spraying a huge arc. They were too far away, the snow too thick, to make out the license plate.

“It’s a Tacoma,” Penny said. “Tommy’s got one. I’ve washed that sucker more times than I can count. It’s black, or really dark blue.”

Dix spoke quickly on his cell, then stuffed it back in his jeans pocket. “Emory will be here in a minute with a cruiser. We’re going after that damned truck. B.B., you head back to the house and post a few of us there. You have enough cruisers to set up a perimeter. These guys are playing for keeps. Hey, keep my boys safe.”

In under three minutes, Dix, Penny, Claus, and Emory were piled into Emory’s squad car, Dix driving. Penny was leaning out the passenger-side window, trying to make out the truck’s tire tracks.

“Straight down Wolf Trap Road, Sheriff,” she yelled. “These tracks are a giveaway.”

They skidded and slid from one side of the road to the other because they were moving so fast, but Dix managed for the most part to keep them on the pavement. They came up to Lone Tree Road.

“Left, Sheriff!”

He spun into the turn, nearly into a ditch. Dix, cursing a blue streak, managed to get the cruiser heading down the road again.

Dix heard Claus say over and over in the backseat, “We’re gonna get ’em and skin ’em and fry their livers—”

“Good images, Claus,” Dix called out. “Too bad it’s not that kind of hunt. Penny, are you freezing out there?”

“I’m okay, Sheriff. Not good—we’re nearing the highway. You know that Doppler Lane on-ramp to Seventy East. If they get on that, we can put in a call to the Highway Patrol.”

“Nah, we’ll get them,” Dix said, and sped up. “Hey, that may be them ahead of us.” Dix pressed his foot on the accelerator. His deputies’ cruisers were well built with new winter tires and lots of power under the hood, but he knew he was pushing the envelope at the speed he was going in the middle of a snowstorm. He doubted the men in the truck were doing as well. He looked over at Penny, who grinned at him as she tugged her wool cap down to her eyes, her face nearly covered with ice. “Hallelujah, I see the truck, not more than fifty yards ahead! We’re going to get them, Sheriff!”

Claus stuck his head out the back window. “I can’t see the license plate yet, but the truck does look like Tommy’s Tacoma. For sure it’s black.”

The truck skidded around the eastbound on-ramp and leaped forward when it hit Highway 70 East, its rear end swerving violently to the right, then sliding nearly off the road. Finally the driver managed to straighten.

There would be few cars on the highway in this storm at one in the morning, a good thing, Dix thought, as he fought to keep the cruiser in the middle of the on-ramp, through the curve, and onto the interstate. “Emory, Penny was right. Call the Highway Patrol in, maybe they can cut these guys off ahead. Stumptree exit’s four miles up.”

Dix knew his speed was crazy in these conditions, but he didn’t care. He wanted these men badly. They’d attacked his home, put his boys in harm’s way, tried to kill Madonna, for God’s sake. Who was she? What had she done, or seen? He should never have brought her to his house, to his boys. But how could he have