Chapter 3 - THE ESCAPE THROUGH THE FLOODI didn't wait for Walter's men to calculate their next move. With my free hand, I slammed the manual override button on the wall, sending the heavy steel security door crashing down with a deafening rattle just as the first gunshot blew out the front office window.
Glass shattered. A bullet punched a clean, terrifying hole through the metal door inches from my shoulder.
"Get in the truck!" I yelled, shoving Emily toward the passenger door of my 1970 Chevy service truck.
I vaulted into the driver's seat, turning the ignition key. The carbureted big-block engine roared to life with a deep, angry growl that rattled the floorboards. I didn't bother opening the bay door all the way; I threw the truck into four-wheel drive, slammed it into reverse, and smashed straight through the rotting wooden back fence of the shop, sending splintered boards flying into the air.
We tore through the overgrown alleyway just as the front doors of the garage were kicked open.
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"Where are we going?" Emily asked, gripping the dashboard as the truck bounced violently over the rough terrain.
"The old logging trails," I shouted over the screaming engine. "The ones leading down to the Harpeth River basin. If we hit the high water, their heavy SUVs will flood out in five minutes. They won't be able to follow us there."
