"We've got an APB out on the black SUV, it had local plates but we don't have the tag numbers. No one apparently saw him but we're canvassing for a mile. And I've got men getting copies of all the video shot by both the news media on the ground and the helicopters flying over this area."

"s it the same man?"

Quinn handed him a .308 shell casing. "Someone that gets flustered enough to miss at close range and someone skilled enough to miss by an inch at two hundred yards on a windy day through thick glass?"

"Two shooters."

"Two shooters."

Marcus crumpled the soda can in his fist. "Make them disappear," Quinn advised. "You have a preference?"

"Both shooters have shown they can blend with the city. Let's get them on our turf."

"Agreed."

"How bad were you hit?"

"It hurts," Marcus replied tersely. "Quinn, I'm tired of being on the receiving end."

"Tell me about it." Quinn rubbed his own arm. "They're two for two, and next time it's not going to be one of us."

"Have we ever had a case where we both got winged?"

"No. And it's beginning to make me mad," Quinn replied. "Did you hear the news from Dave? Lisa thinks she found the room."

It was the first good news of the evening. "I knew she would come through."

"Stubborn lady. I'm going to owe her dinner."

"If you're lucky, she'll collect on the debt."

Quinn smiled. "True. Listen, head back to the house and get the Hanfords ready to move at first light. There's not much else to do here. We're going to stay and canvas again at daybreak, but this scene looks contained. We'll start tracing what we've got down to the type of sand used in the bag. The rifle, the bag, even the way he set up to make the shot- something is going to register with an existing MO. This wasn't his first time; it's too high profile an attempt."

"Agreed. Find him, Quinn."

"Between Lisa and me, these two shooters are going to wish they had never thought of reaching out to kill ajudge, let alone threaten a lady you like.

Marcus shared a look with his partner, then simply slapped shoulder and turned to head back to the van. Quinn knew him. This case had long ago become very personal. He'd like to wring the neck of the man who had gone after Shari. He'd settle for putting him behind bars for life.

Shari carefully lowered herself to the edge of her bed, her back muscles aching. The headache had grown in intensity.

God, I'm sorry You've got a generous, merciful heart. Forgive me for being a jerk. I'm sorry I turned a cold shoulder to You. Not talking to You only hurt me.

She wrapped her arms around her waist. The man who had killed Carl and her dad had tried again to kill her. That fear made it hard to think. She wished Marcus were here. Even though he had been injured, she knew he wouldn't let that danger push him away. He would know what she needed to do.

She was worried about him, out there tracking the man who had done this. She was only now beginning to appreciate the fury she had sensed in Marcus this evening as events had unfolded. She hoped he wouldn't take any undue risks. She didn't want anyone else hurt because of her.

She couldn't stay here with her family. She was putting Josh and mom in danger. She didn't know how to deal with that fear.

It was so confusing, everything that had happened. All the way back to Sam. Her life was in tatters. God, I need time to figure this out and deal with all these emotions. And I need You to keep me safe. I've been hurt and angry but now I'm scared and I'm rushing back to You because I know You are the One who is my refuge.

There was a tap on the door. She looked up and smiled slightly. "You look like you feel worse than I do."

Josh crossed the room to join her. "I sometimes think the doctor help is worse than the inju And it takes forever for the muscle relaxants to kick in. How are you doing?"

She knew her face was bruised and swollen. And her jarred back and spine made movement come at a high price. "I'll be okay." She looked at her brother as he sat down. "What are we going to do, Josh?"

"First, get that tone of defeat out of your voice. We're okay." He brushed back her hair. "He won't get another chance at you. We'll make certain of that."

"Josh, he almost shot mom. Another few inches to the left-"

"He didn't."

"I can't take the chance he'll try again." She wanted to run and didn't know how or where.

"We'll let Marcus make the recommendation on what we do next."

Her brother was handling this so much better than she was. He hadn't once complained about the fact he had been shot, and his recovery had been far from easy. She sighed. "Tomorrow, I want you to update my will." "Shari!"

She shook her head. "It's not morose thinking. I want to know everything is in order. Because Dad's is so out of date it's making dealing with the estate a problem. And he is listed as my executor." Somewhere in the house a phone rang. "You should probably forward the phone to the answering service again." Their phone number was unlisted, but that hadn't mattered. The press had found it. They had hired a firm to take messages. "mom is waiting on a call from Margaret." "Josh, it's for you," Beth called from downstairs.

He got to his feet. "Come downstairs. It's not good to brood." She smiled when he ruffled her hair. "In a minute. Thanks, Josh." "S ure."

Shari was still up. Marcus had been expecting that, even though it was close to midnight. She wouldn't find sleep this evening easy.

"Can I get you some coffee?" she offered, getting up from the kitchen table where she had been sitting, reading a book.

"Please."

Shari poured him a cup.

He hadn't seen her before he left to return to the church; what he saw now made him wince. He had really done a number on her face. "Let me see." He crossed over to her and tipped up her chin. "You need some ice on that cheek." He rubbed his thumb very lightly across the darkening bruise, absorbing the pain of what had happened. He'd hurt her. It left a deep ache inside. If only he had been able to react faster...

"Marcus, don't worry about it. It's like walking away from a car wreck with only a bruise-you definitely don't mind the bruise. You saved my life."

"I think the wind and a thick plate glass window did that. I just helped."

She smiled, reached up, and kissed his cheek. "I'll take helped. And I will let you get me that ice. It's starting to ache again."

He hesitated for a moment, feeling an unexpected warmth roll through his chest. Shari, you have the habit of slipping under my guaM. I don't mind, but I wish I deserved it. I let you and your family down.

He had been afraid she would come out of this crisis quivering in shock, but she was rolling with it. When it was her family in danger it was one thing, herself another. He felt the same kind of admiration coupled with unease he felt with Kate. His sister never let the danger she was in bother her, and Shari was mirroring that by trying to keep a strong front in place.

He shook off the distracted thoughts and moved to the freezer. He improvised an ice pack with a clean towel. "Try this."

She winced when she touched the cold to the soreness. "It will help." She sat back down at the table and watched him. "This is proving to be a very rough day"

"A terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day," Marcus replied, borrowing a line from the children's stow. It was that or apologize again, and he was starting to sound like a broken record.

"No luck with the shooter?"

He shook his head, debating with himself how much to tell her. He wasn't ready yet to tell her they suspected there were two shooters. Not until he had spoken with Josh. "There is a lead on his vehicle. We're looking." He sat down with his coffee. "In the morning we're going to be moving you from this house to a place that is more secure."

"All of us?"

"Yes."

"I would prefer not to be near Josh and mom."

"I can understand why you feel that way, but I think it's best if you stay together. Once you're tucked somewhere that hasn't been broadcast by the media to the world at large, the situation will be much easier to manage. Your mom needs the rest, and she won't get it if you're someplace else and she's staying here amid the security we would have to bring in. Josh needs to focus on regaining his strength, and being battered by the press isn't going to help him out. Think of it as a much needed family vacation."

He watched her rub her forehead with her hand before she looked up at him. "I don't mean to make this difficult, but how long do we plan for? Days? Weeks? I've got two estates to deal with. My job. The campaign. It's not like I can walk away from all of this and come back later. In an election, every day is critical. I need to give John and Anne some idea of what I can do, what has to be transferred to others."

"When you are out on the campaign trail, you're working by phone, e-mail, and fax. Pack up what you will need and plan to work that way for the next few weeks. You can still work behind the scenes, just not from here."

"I'm going to have to go through all the paperwork here just to know what I need for Dad's estate, the same at Carl's home office."

"Ask your secretary to box it up and we'll arrange to transport it; you and Josh can go through it together."

"Can I at least sleep in tomorrow morning before I have to pack?"

Fie smiled at that. "Sure, as long as you're packed by seven. This is for the best, Shari. I wouldn't ask it if it wasn't."

"I know. I don't have to like it, but I do believe you."

"You killed a judge! Just like that...poof. I will kill a federal judge!"

Connor had walked into the family estate prepared for this explosion from his father. The demand that Connor come had arrived with blunt intensity within minutes of Titus's return from Europe. For ten minutes he had taken it...but no more. "He sent my brother to his death. Your eldest son. But you ignore that. You let it pass without reply. Someone has to look at what that means for the family name. You make it weak!"

His father turned at that, swift as a cobra, his voice cold. "Because you are my son I will forget that you said that. But do not push me again. We are not too weak to act...we are too powerful! This family cannot afford the ire of the government, and you have brought it to our front door. This is no longer a business where passion rules but pragmatic power. You learned nothing from what I have spent fifteen years teaching!"

Connor was aware of Anthony. his father's first lieutenant, pacing outside the room, and for the first time he felt the touch of fear cross his spine as he faced his father's anger. For the first time he felt the irreversibility of what he had done. He braced his feet.

He had been in this study since his childhood answering to his father. Anthony would understand why he had acted and killed, Anthony was the old school. But he was left cooling his heels outside, which said his father had already overruled Anthony's suggestion for what should be done. "Who helped you?"

Connor thought about lying but knew it would be useless. "Frank." "I'm glad you admit it."

His father tossed the newspaper onto the desk, the hated sketch on the front page below the fold. "You were careless."

"There is no evidence connecting me to the shooting. There is only one witness. The others didn't see me," he replied, willing to placate. "She can be eliminated."

"So I see," Titus replied with great irony "You did a greatjob with that tOO."

"Frank missed. He won't next time."

"Frank has been taken care of."

Connor blinked. Titus had killed his cousin? A chill crossed his spine at the dismissive way his father had said it.

"Did you really think you could set me up, Connor?"

Still feeling the cold of the previous comment, this one caught Connor off guard. "What? I didn't-"

"Because I didn't know what was happening in my own family, I am now liable for conspiracy for the murder of a federal judge. It was my eldest son sentenced to death by Judge Whitmore. Frank worked for me. I paid him while he went on those errands for you. Whether I ordered it or not, as the saying goes, 'the buck stops here.' I can't prove I didn't know what you and Frank were planning. The jury will assume I not only sanctioned it but set it in motion."

"That wasn't-"

Titus waved him to silence. "My interests happen to coincide with yours-for the moment. I solved your problem. I hired Lucas Saracelli. Your witness is as good as dead. But now I ask you. Who's going to solve my problem? You!"

Connor knew he was in trouble as that cold fury hit him. "I have no interest-"

"Shut up. You will go back to your law office, back to your good job, and you will keep your mouth shut. You will toe the line so hard that it squeaks. And to help you out, Joseph is joining your firm tomorrow. He is at your side until I say otherwise. And Connor...I mean it. Keep your mouth shut. Now get out."

Connor wisely left.

I.

t was a former hunting lodge, now someone's expensive vacation home, with two wings of bedrooms around a central kitchen, den, and living room. It sat a few hundred feet from a sprawling lake. Shari wondered who had owed the marshals a favor; it must have been a big one.

"The town is two miles to the east," Marcus commented, pausing beside her on the spacious porch. "We know all the residents of these homes by sight."

"Would it be too much to ask where we are?"

"The middle of nowhere."

"You are obstinate. How about the state?"

"Area code 502, given you'll find that out when we set up a mirrored e-mail account."

"The western part of Kentucky."

He laughed. "Nice to know you remember the important things in life." The laughter faded and the seriousness returned. "There are ground rules."

Having had them drilled into her by both Marcus and Joshua, she felt like rolling her eyes. "No one is told this location; all phone calls are made on the special cellular phone you got me; all mail is routed through my office."

"And you go nowhere without a shadow."

"I was hoping you had forgotten that one."

"Not likely. Choose your room, I'll bring in your bags. East if you want a sunrise, west if you want to sleep in."