Hanson Page 17
heavy-caliber machine gun erupting in a roaring sickening bark and something exploded like a windshield blowing out.
    "Sheriff Blair! Do you copy?" Juana shouted. "Over!"
    "Request back-up! Olson Ranch." Now it was Bell. "Hurry! Get down, Jack--Christ!"
    "Back-up en route," Juana radioed.
    I swung left at the crossroads just before the tall mountain and sped a quarter mile past a white wood fence, missed the sign for the on-ramp, crimped the wheel and slid onto the interstate in front of a semi that squealed its air brakes as its lit trailers zigzagged like a shattering constellation.
    Car and pickup taillights rushed up and the lit town off to the right flashed by as I held the car at 95 for seven miles, my hand on the horn to move traffic over, afraid to push the Ford any harder, the rapid machine gun booming from the radio over Bell's breathless shouts to Blair--

    The air went dead.
    Sergeant Lujan tried frantically to raise them again and I shot past a cattle truck, saw the sign
and took the exit, the tires throwing a wave of gravel at the shoulder when I nearly lost the car in the tight unmarked turn.
    "Sheriff Blair!"
    I raced along the narrow two-lane blacktop and