Field of Danger. Ramona Richards

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      April flinched as the killer crashed into the cellar, the wooden door splintering under his assault. Aunt Suke clutched her arm, pressing her harder against the gritty wall at their backs. The room, pitch-black as any cave, smelled sour and acidic, like old dough, potatoes, onions and garlic. The taste in her mouth was acidic, too—a mix of adrenaline and fear.

      “April Presley!” The killer’s voice sounded flat and cold and far too close. “You can’t hide forever. You, too, Suke Stockard. I will kill you.”

      Upstairs, Polly set up a raucous series of barks and yelps, and they could hear her running through the rooms.

      A second blast from the gun made both women jump, and April bit her fist to keep from screaming. Terror clenched tight around her, making her shake.

      Aunt Suke slid an arm around her, pulling her tight against her. Her thin limbs were wiry with tense muscles, and April wished she could draw in some of the older woman’s strength. She inhaled deeply, trying to remain still and silent, not daring to relax, even as they heard his footsteps on the stairs, hard thumps headed upward.

      Then another sound reached April, one that made her heart leap for joy. Police sirens.

      The killer heard them, as well. “This ain’t over!” His hoarse, raspy voice echoed through the house as he ascended the stairs and headed toward the backyard. “The cops can’t protect you. Before this day is out, you’re both dead!”

      TWO

      Daniel skidded the car into the familiar driveway, then turned down the field road that ran along the edge of the corn, toward the police lights he could see flashing up ahead. A cluster of emergency vehicles circled the crime scene, and he stopped the cruiser near the sheriff’s car. He got out, still denying the growing dread in his heart.

      When Daniel saw the strained horror in Sheriff Ray Taylor’s face, however, he knew there had been no mistake. Then he spotted the blue tarp over the body on the ground, and plunged toward it with a gasp of pain. It took Ray and two other deputies to stop him, and he shoved back hard, his shoes digging into the dirt and scuffing backward as he pushed. “Let me see him!”

      Ray blocked his way. “Daniel! Listen! I’m not going to keep you from seeing him, but you have to listen first. Look at me!”

      Daniel stopped pushing against the older man, but couldn’t seem to take his eyes off the blue tarp until Ray repeated the command with all the power of his Marine training. “Rivers, look at me!”

      Daniel did, and Ray’s voice softened. “Your father took a shotgun blast to the chest at close range. Probably 12-gauge, from the look of it. It’s not something you really want to see, and I don’t care what you saw on the streets of Nashville. This is your father.”

      Daniel felt like a block of ice, numb and distant. “I have to see him.”

      Ray nodded. “We’ve cleared a spot so the coroner can get to him without messing up any evidence. There are footprints we still have to cast. I’ll take you.”

      With Ray’s hand on his shoulder as comfort and guide, Daniel stepped toward the tarp slowly, hard clumps of the plowed ground popping into dust as he trod on them. Everyone around him fell totally silent. Only Ray and Daniel approached the body, Ray bending to pull back the tarp, uncovering Levon’s face.

      Daniel dropped to his knees next to his father, his eyes burning. Levon’s face, gray and speckled with brownish-red drops, seemed oddly peaceful. It had been a long time since Daniel had seen that kind of calm, that kind of peacefulness on his father’s face—not since his mother had died five years ago. In that instant, Daniel felt a strange sense of comfort, and he knew, without a doubt, that his father was with God—and his mother.

      “Tell her I still love her.” The words came out in a choked rasp, then Daniel gave in to his own racking grief.