Free The Naked Edge by David Morrell Page A

stopping!”
    “Drive past it!”
    “It's turning sideways! It's blocking the road!”
    7

    Cavanaugh crouched out of sight in the police car's back seat. Feeling the state trooper expertly skid the cruiser sideways to block the road, Cavanaugh braced himself and reminded the driver, “Leave room for them to drive around!”
    There was always the chance that actual reporters were in the pursuing car. On a hunch, the reporters might have decided to ignore the patrol car that stopped and to follow the one in the lead. If so, with the road blocked, the driver of the pursuing car would now stop and demand to know what was going on. But members of the assault team would want to get away.
    Hurrying from the cruiser, Cavanaugh and the policeman took cover behind the engine, the only place in an unarmored vehicle that would stop a bullet. The pursuing car took advantage of the space the patrolman had left and veered toward the shoulder, passing the cruiser's back fender, throwing up dust. As it sped farther down the road, Cavanaugh aimed a powerful flashlight, centering the beam on the license plate.
    “Got it!” He shouted the numbers and letters to the trooper who repeated them into a radio microphone attached to his collar.
    The second cruiser arrived, and Jamie hurried from her hiding place in the back seat. Meanwhile, Cavanaugh's driver chased the escaping car, his siren wailing.
    A moment later, the van arrived. William got out.
    “It worked,” Jamie told Cavanaugh.
    “Not just yet.” As the other cruiser joined the chase, Cavanaugh walked along the road, in the direction from which he'd come. The trooper who'd driven the van followed him, accompanied by Jamie and William. Cavanaugh turned left toward a dark lane that led into a gravel pit. He aimed the flashlight and saw a shadowy pickup truck parked between mounds of earth. In case there'd been a gunfight, the occupants would have been out of the line of fire. Even so, they'd obeyed instructions and taken cover behind the truck's engine.
    “Mrs. Patterson? Kyle?” As Cavanaugh shone the light, keeping it away from eye level, he saw two people rise from behind the truck.
    “More excitement,” Mrs. Patterson said. “I don't know how my husband ever put up with it.” But something in her voice suggested that some aspects of the excitement were enjoyable, that she now understood why her husband had liked being a police officer.
    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.
    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