Blindside

itself to the children. He also knew she’d give her life for any of them.
    Katie smashed her hat on her head, grabbed all the coats, and said, “We’re outta here, now!”
    Sam whispered as he clutched his father’s neck, “What’s the matter, Papa? What did I hear? Are those bad men after me again?”
    “If they are, I’ll knock their heads together, then I’ll let you stomp on them, okay?”
    “Okay, Papa,” Sam said, less fear in his voice, thank God.

    Keely twisted around in Miles’s other arm to face her mother. “What’s the matter, Mama?”
    “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 coveragain 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