Watching the sheriff carefully, Max noted that the tag on his uniform shirt said Sheriff Taylor.

"Max?" Michael called out from inside the van.

"It's okay," Max said, nodding his head. It was far from okay, but Max didn't want Michael charging the sheriff.

"You quiet down in there," the sheriff said to Max's friends. Then he leaned closer to Max and said, "You all wait right here while I make a call."

Realizing he had just a few seconds to act, Max seized on something. It was more of an act of desperation than a plan. It didn't feel right exactly, but it felt like the only thing he could do. "We need your help," Max said to the sheriff before the man could walk away.

"What?" Sheriff Taylor said, suspicion in his voice.

"We're in trouble. Someone's been following us for about ten miles now," Max said. Right on cue, a black SUV came from the direction Max had been driving. Max was sure it was the Special Unit SUV that had been in front of them.

"Really?" the sheriff said. Max could hear the smile in his voice.

"I'm serious, that SUV has been following us," Max said, nodding in the direction of the car. "They are watching us now." Then Max turned around and took a look at the sheriff, who was watching the SUV pull over with the same sharp-eyed intelligence he had eyed Max.

He's smart, and a decent person, Max thought. It wasn't an intellectual analysis, and Max thought it might be because he reminded Max of Sheriff Valenti. Still, he was sure he was right. Max didn't know how this could all turn out okay for everybody involved, but he felt a surge of hope.

"Don't go away, son. Let me talk to your friends," Sheriff Taylor said.

Then Max saw the doors to the SUV open and two men in dark suits get out. They were in their late twenties or early thirties and had a look that was both bland and dangerous. Any doubt that Max might have had disappeared. He was absolutely certain that he was looking at two agents of the Special Unit.

Max felt the small seed of hope die inside him.