THE IRON BARS BETWEEN OUR HEARTS

Muzzle flashes strobed against the dark timber like jagged lightning. Rounds slammed into the driver-side door of the F-150 as Miller threw himself behind the wheel. Glass shattered across the vinyl bench, slicing into his cheek, but he barely felt the pain. He stomped the accelerator, sending the heavy four-wheel-drive truck crashing straight through the underbrush toward the access gate.

Behind him, two black tactical SUVs swung into pursuit, their roof-mounted spotlights pinning his tailgate. Bullets perforated the truck's bed, sparks showering off the steel frame.

Miller grabbed his radio mic, switching to the open emergency frequency used by every law enforcement agency in the three-county area.

""Mayday, Mayday, all units!"" Miller bellowed, swerving wildly to avoid fallen pine trunks. ""This is Officer Miller, Badge 412! I am under direct fire from unidentified tactical units on Blackwood Ridge Road! Deputy Chief Vance is operating an unsanctioned kill squad! Officer Tommy Cole is alive and carrying evidence of evidence tampering and capital murder! I repeat, Tommy Cole is alive!""

A burst of heavy caliber fire severed his rear axle. The truck spun violently out of control, flipping twice over an embankment before coming to rest upside down against an ancient oak tree.

Steam hissed from the crushed radiator. Gasoline trickled onto hot exhaust pipes, threatening to ignite the tangled wreck. Suspended by his seatbelt, Miller coughed up dark blood, his vision swimming in shades of gray. Through the shattered windshield, he saw boots approaching through the mud—polished tactical boots.

Deputy Chief Vance stepped into view, holding an automatic rifle at the low ready. He knelt beside the inverted window, his face illuminated by the burning headlights of his SUV.

""You always were too sentimental for this work, Miller,"" Vance said calmly, raising his weapon. ""Where is the boy?""

Miller spat blood onto the wet leaves, his lips curling into a broken, defiant grin.