by Gayle Wilson
“Send a couple more cars,” Jace said. “Tell one of them to go to wherever they unload the buses. They need to stop anyone else from entering the building. Oh, and one more thing. I need the home phone number of a Colonel Paul Carr.”
When the dispatcher provided that information, Jace dialed the Carr residence, again waiting impatiently through the rings.
Justin’s father answered. “Hello.”
“Jace Nolan again, Colonel. I need to know what weapons are missing from your house.”
“If this is another accusation against my son—”
“You do have weapons there, don’t you, Colonel? Have you checked them this morning?”
There was a slight hesitation before Carr said, “I keep my collection in a gun safe, detective. No one has access but me.”
“That’s great. Now go check and tell me what’s missing.”
“I just told you—”
“We received a report of automatic weapons fire at the high school. You have automatic weapons in that collection, sir?” The resulting silence was all the answer Jace needed. “Go see what’s missing, goddamn it. And do it now.”
“Hold on.”
As he waited, Jace tried to think what else he should do. Turning the wrist of the hand he was steering with, he glanced down at his watch. It was 7:18 a.m. How many kids would be in and around the building at this time of the morning? And how could he make sure that no more were allowed inside?
“Three weapons are gone,” Carr said without preamble. “An M9 Beretta, a 1911A and an AK47.”
The latter explained what the maintenance worker had heard. “So now we know what your son’s ‘science’ project consisted of.”
“See here, Nolan—”
“You better get that high-powered Montgomery lawyer on the phone, Colonel. I suspect you and your family are going to need all the help he can give you very soon. And if you have any influence over your son, I suggest you call him. Try to convince him that whatever he’s doing needs to end right now.”
“Believe me, I’d be glad to,” Carr said, “but they don’t allow cells at the high school. Some kind of safety measure.”
Christ, Jace thought. That meant there was no communication in or out of the building, except through the central office. And if they had already taken that out, as they should have in an assault, there would be no way for outsiders to know what was going on inside.
“Then you and your wife might want to start praying.”
Jace broke the connection. Eyes shifting between his phone and the road ahead, he held the cell out in front of him, running down his contacts list until he found Lindsey’s name. Carr hadn’t mentioned if the ban on phones extended to the teachers, but Jace thought that was unlikely.
If he could reach Lindsey, she could clue him into what normally went on at the school this time of the morning. Where the kids were. And maybe more importantly, where they weren’t. If they could do anything to minimize the exposure…
When—after a half dozen unanswered rings—the voice mail message came on, Jace resisted the urge to snap the lid closed. Maybe Lindsey had her phone on vibrate. Or maybe it was off. Just because she didn’t answer didn’t mean she’d been caught up in whatever the maintenance worker had reported.
“Call me as soon as you get this,” he said in response to the prompt. “If you’re in your classroom, lock your door and stay there. Promise me, Lindsey. Just stay there.” He hesitated, his mind racing. And then, knowing that despite what anyone could do, this could blow up in their faces, turning into the same kind of bloodbath Columbine and Thurston had been, he added, “I love you. Just…Just please, please don’t let anything happen to you.”
He closed the case of his cell with a snap and tossed it onto the seat beside him. Then, conscious of nothing except getting to Randolph-Lowen as soon as possible, he continued to drive too fast through the sleepy streets of a town that had, until this morning, thought nothing more tragic than the suicides of two teenagers could ever happen to it.
Jace went to the back of the school, because he assumed the first cruiser they’d dispatched would go in the front. He wanted to make sure his instructions were being followed and that students weren’t being allowed to enter through the transported-student entrances. Judging by the two buses lined up along the sidewalk—
Rick Carlisle stepped out from between them and started toward him. The deputy was in uniform, his shoulder radio in place so that he would only have to turn his head to make contact with the dispatcher.
“What do you know?”
“Not much. I got here in time to stop this one. The other,” he said, turning to indicate the first bus in line, “had already unloaded, but we’ve rounded up the students who hadn’t gone into the building and got them back on it.”
“You hear anything like the gunfire that was reported?”
“Not back here, but it was pretty noisy until we got the kids on the bus.”
“You check with the dispatcher?”
“Yeah. Nobody’s heard anything from the first responders, but given the timing they must be inside by now. We were close, so we got here maybe five minutes behind them.”
Carlisle’s attention was diverted by the arrival of another bus. He stepped around Jace, raising his hand to the driver.
Although the woman had been reaching for the lever to open the door, she must have caught sight of the deputy’s gesture out of the corner of her eye. Carlisle walked around to the side. The driver completed her motion, cracking the door.
“Pull up beside the front bus in line. Don’t let anyone off.”
“Has something happened?”
“We don’t know yet. It may be nothing. Just keep them on the bus until we find out.”
She nodded before she pulled the lever toward her and put the bus in gear. Accompanied by the stench of diesel fuel, it rolled past Carlisle and into the place he’d directed.
“Where’s your partner?” Jace called.
Rick stepped to his right and pointed in the direction he’d sent the woman driver. When Jace walked around the rear of the parked bus, he saw another deputy standing beside the first, in conversation with a man holding a briefcase. Teacher, Jace surmised, and possibly the driver as well.
“Tell those two to take over out here. They can call for backup if they need it. Tell them whatever they do not to let anybody into the building. You come with me.”
Leaving Rick to make those arrangements, Jace turned and headed down the covered sidewalk toward the back entrance. Before he reached it, he was left in no doubt about the accuracy of the original information they’d received.
Although distant, the sound from inside the building was distinct enough to be instantly identifiable to anyone familiar with it. The combat vet who’d called in hadn’t been wrong. Apparently Carr’s son knew enough to be able to use the powerful assault rifle his father owned.
Jace drew his own weapon, and then positioning himself to the side of the glass panel in the door, he tried to see inside. Nothing out of the ordinary seemed to be happening in this hall.
After a few seconds, Carlisle, his department-issued .38 held in both hands, assumed a similar stance on the other side of the entrance. His brows lifted in question as he looked over at Jace. When he nodded, the deputy reached out to open the door. Jace slipped inside, leading with his Glock.
The hall was eerily empty. Maybe another of the early-arriving teachers had heard the gunfire and collected any students from back here and either taken them outside or secured them in a safe place.
He moved forward as quickly as he could without exposing himself to fire from the dark classrooms he passed. Carlisle followed, checking behind them as they navigated the hall.
Before they reached the end, there was another burst of fire from the automatic weapon. This time it was followed by the throatier bark of a semiautomatic.
Department issued? If so, that might mean that at least one of the first officers who ha
d been dispatched was still alive. That made at least three of them inside the building. And other cars should be arriving at any minute.
With the thought, he turned to watch as Rick ran toward his position. “Backup?”
“On the way. ETA maybe four minutes.”
It should have made him feel better, but in any situation involving guns, especially automatic weapons, a hell of a lot could happen in a couple of minutes. None of it good.
“What about the first responders?”
Rick shook his head. “Dispatcher still hasn’t been able to make contact.”
Which made it likely both were dead, probably gunned down as they’d entered the building. The shots he’d heard, which he had taken as return fire, might mean someone was using their weapons. In any case, they were going to have to operate without any of the information those first arrivals might have provided them.
“Best guess where they’d be?” he asked the deputy. “Commons? Gym?”
“Depends on what they want. If it’s maximum kill, then this time of day I’d say the commons or the lunchroom. If they want somewhere they can secure and hold, I’d go for the lunchroom, with the gym a distant second.”
Maximum kill. Another of those phrases he’d rather not have in his head, Jace acknowledged.
At this time of the morning Lindsey would already be upstairs. If they could contain this—
More gunfire interrupted that hopeful thought. He wondered how many shooters they were looking at.
He’d always suspected at least two people had been involved in the church fires. That kind of mischief was more fun if you shared the high. Just as this would be.
The more people involved in this kind of assault, the better, from a strictly tactical aspect, for the shooters. And the bigger the nightmare in trying to contain them.
That was something they’d have to learn as this played out. Right now, the only choice they had was to concentrate on the area where gunfire had already been heard.
“Okay,” he said to Rick. “How do we get there?”
“Follow me.”
Without waiting for agreement, Rick moved into position in front of him. He peered around the corner, carefully checking out the cross hall they’d reached. Then the deputy stepped out into it, knees bent, his weapon moving in a 180-degree arc. When nothing happened, he glanced back at Jace and nodded before he took off to his right.
Taking the same precautions, Jace trailed him. Unlike the procedure Jace had followed in the hall, the deputy didn’t bother to check out the rooms on either side, although there were lights on in some of them. Jace hoped the teachers who had unlocked those doors had by now relocked them. The best-case scenario would be that they’d gathered up any students they’d seen in the hall and brought them inside.
He knew from his initial visit that most of the kids congregated in the commons area before the opening bell. Because they’d been forbidden to enter other parts of the school at this time of day? If that was the case, Carlisle was undoubtedly right.
Maximum kill. Which meant they were going for a Columbine-type assault. Unless someone took them out—
Rick stopped again, pressing his back against the wall. He had reached the next intersection. The one that would lead into the lobby, at the very heart of the school. The office and stairs up to the second floor classrooms would be on the left; the commons, gym, and lunchroom on the right.
With his hand, the deputy motioned to hold up. Adrenaline had already been pumping like a drug through Jace’s bloodstream. With the realization of where they were, it surged again. Sharpening his focus. Magnifying each movement made by the man in front of him.
Once again Carlisle leaned forward in an attempt to make a visual reconnaissance of the intersection ahead of them. This time, he jerked his head back immediately, flattening himself once more against the wall.
Mouth open from their recent exertions, Rick turned to look at Jace. Because he couldn’t read the deputy’s expression, Jace raised his brows, questioning. Carlisle shook his head before again looking back at the intersection.
Clearly he’d seen something that had bothered him out there. Or maybe someone? One of the shooters? If so, why hadn’t he tried to take him out?
Because it would have endangered others. That was the only explanation that made sense of the deputy’s actions.
Were the shooters holding hostages? Using them as shields? Whatever was going on, Rick had decided now wasn’t the time to confront whoever was out there. The only problem Jace had with that decision was that time was a luxury they no longer had.
As if to prove his point, there was another burst of automatic weapons fire, the popcorn rhythm of it much clearer. More distinct. Obviously it was coming from the right, while whatever Carlisle had seen that had driven him back from a confrontation had been off to his left.
Tired of trying to figure out what was going on, Jace ran to where the deputy was, his back against the wall. Although he’d attempted not to make any sound, Rick had turned his head to watch his approach.
As he came to a stop beside him, Jace hissed, “What? What’d you see?”
“Two of them coming down the stairs from the second floor.”
Jace started to move past him, but Carlisle used his forearm to push him back. And then he said the words that were guaranteed to stop Jace in his tracks. And to stop his breath.
“They’ve got Lindsey.”
Thirty
“Why are you doing this?” Lindsey asked again.
Steven continued to hurry her along, gun in one hand, the other wrapped around her upper arm. Since they’d left her room, she’d formed a dozen plans of action and discarded them all.
She couldn’t decide if Jean was capable of setting off the explosives she carried. She wasn’t as afraid of Steven as she was of that totally unknown element. After all, the boy had made her lock the door of her classroom, leaving the two terrified girls unharmed.
“I’m not going to spend the rest of my life in prison.”
“Then stop this now, Steven, before it’s too late.”
“It’s already too late. It was too late when you butted in.” He jerked her arm, dragging her forward, almost causing her to miss her footing on the stairs.
What Steven had just said had to be a reference to Jace. Despite his attitude on the phone, he must have taken what she’d told him seriously. There was little consolation in the thought that she’d been right.
“Where are we going?”
This time Steven didn’t bother to answer, his hold tightening as they made their way down the few remaining stairs to the main floor. The assistant principals would be in the office by now. And Melanie. One of them would have called the sheriff’s department when they’d heard the gunfire.
The lobby was deserted. Lindsey lifted her eyes to look across to the double set of doors that opened to the commons. That area was also empty, its gleaming tile stretching to the lunchroom at the other end.
As Steven guided her past the elevator, she tried to look back at the door to the office, where she’d signed in less than twenty minutes ago. It was closed. And a smear ran down its central glass panel as if someone had dipped their hand in red paint—
The realization of what that must be caused her steps to falter. Steven jerked her arm again, forcing her to keep moving despite her shock.
She turned to look at him, surprised to realize how tall he was. As tall as her father. Or Jace. No longer a child.
Glancing down, he laughed at her expression. “Did you think I was kidding?”
“Who…?” She couldn’t complete the question.
“Whoever was in there. That was the one place we couldn’t afford to be lenient.”
As he had been upstairs?
“I don’t understand. Why are you doing this?”
“I told you. Better to go out in a blaze of glory—”
“By killing innocent people? Is that your idea of glory?”
“Hey
, don’t try to blame me for this. Blame your lover. Blame yourself. What we were doing wasn’t hurting anyone. And we wouldn’t have. Not until he decided to get involved.”
“He got ‘involved’ because that’s his job. You know what you were doing was wrong. How can you blame someone else—”
“Shut up,” he demanded, shaking her. “Just shut the fuck up. You aren’t in charge here, Ms. Sloan. We are. So don’t try to tell me what I can and can’t do.”
They were past the elevators, approaching the intersection with the hall that lead to the back of the building. The hold Steven had on her arm strengthened as his anger grew. The closer they got to the commons the more aware she was that the time to act was running out. If she was going to make a move—
She tried to pull her arm from his grasp. In answer, Steven not only tightened his grip, he turned the gun he held so that the muzzle was pressed against her temple.
“Stop it. Stop it now,” he hissed, his voice no longer amused, “or I swear I’ll kill you. I’ll blow your brains out.”
She stopped struggling, convinced from the rage in his voice that he was so far over the edge he might really pull the trigger. As he had done in the office?
She closed her eyes in despair, allowing him to pull her forward. Only when she felt the pressure of the metal against her skin lessen did she dare open them again.
Steven had taken the gun away from her head and was in the process of moving it so it once more pointed in front of him. Before he completed the act, something warm and wet hit the side of her face, followed by a sound she would identify only later.
Steven seemed to stagger forward, pulling her with him. Then, his fingers still clutching her arm, he fell to his knees, dragging her down. As she automatically put out her hand to break her fall, Lindsey glanced to her right to see what had happened to the boy who’d compelled her here at gunpoint. And understood the significance of the moisture she’d felt.
As Steven’s body continued to fall forward, his grip released. Although he’d carried her down to the floor with him, she began to scramble up immediately, a reaction to the horror of his head wound more than fear of what might happen next.