The Third Victim Part 9

"The call has come down from the governor," his lieutenant said.

"This case is high profile and, by all accounts, already out of control. The bra.s.s wants a good front man, someone with experience, solid organizational skills, and the ability to coordinate city, state, and most likely federal resources."

"Absolutely."

His lieutenant looked at his neatly tailored gray suit and strong, trim figure.

"Someone who looks good to the media."

Abe smiled wolfishly. He liked the press. He knew just how much to feed them and then he devoured them alive. It made him happy.

"Absolutely!" he said with more enthusiasm.

"You'd have to be on the road. Probably two to three weeks straight at the beginning, then all the return trips."

"Not a problem." It wasn't. Sara hardly noticed his presence these days. He'd finally given in to her pleas and gotten her a ten-week-old puppy. Now she was busy coddling the pup and feeding the pup and chucking it under the chin. One day he was going to come home and find the dog decked out in baby clothes and a bonnet. The d.a.m.n thing would probably grin and take it, too; so far, the sheltie seemed remarkably even-tempered.

Sometimes Abe found himself petting the creature. The little guy's downy coat was remarkably soft to the touch. Not that he wanted to get that close to anything that had no bladder control, for chrissakes.

"Then you're on the case," his lieutenant said. Tackle it as if you'd gotten there yesterday. And Sanders ..."

Abe halted at the door.

"The EMTs reported at least two children dead. It's gonna be a tough one, for everyone."

"Is the shooter a kid?"

"No word on the shooter yet."

"But most of them are kids."

"We're a.s.suming that's the case. Play it tight. And quick. That would be best for everyone."

Abe understood. When kids were harmed, people went a little nuts.

Sometimes, cops did too.

Sanders commandeered a car. He phoned ahead for a hotel room, as he always did, grabbed what little information the department had on the still-evolving scenario, and hit the road.

"One measly sheriff and two semi-trained officers," he muttered as he headed home to pack his bags.

"Kids killing kids, and not even a homicide department to manage the mess. Good thing I'm heading out there, 'cause these yokels have got to be s.h.i.+tting their pants."

Rainie jerked her finger off the trigger just before she pulled it back.

"Danny," she gasped.

The boy stood, sh.e.l.l-shocked. His right arm was extended halfway, pointing the .12. somewhere around Rainie's kneecaps in a sure grip.

He held a .38 in his left hand, down by his side, and for a moment Rainie wasn't certain where to look.

She kept her weapon trained on him, then Shep took a step toward her.

"Stop!" she yelled to no one, to all of them. Shep was still armed, and though she trusted him as a friend, she couldn't count on his actions as a father. If he thought Danny was threatened or if Danny felt threatened .. .

Rainie could feel the situation spiraling dangerously out of control.

She reined in her panic. "You," she said to Shep, keeping her gaze on Danny.

"Are you okay?"

"It's a mistake," Shep said desperately.

"All of this is one big mistake."

"Fine, but until this mistake is over, keep your hands where I can see them."

"Rainie -' "Danny, I want you to listen to me. You must put down your guns. Okay? I want you to move very slowly and place your weapons on the floor."

Danny didn't move. His gaze swung wildly from side to side, and Rainie could nearly smell the panic roiling off his skin. He was dressed in black jeans, a black T-s.h.i.+rt, and white running shoes. She couldn't see any more weapons on him, but it was hard to be sure. He came from a house loaded with firearms, and she knew Shep had taken him hunting from the time he could walk.

"Danny," she said in a more commanding voice.

"I'm going to count to three, and then you are going to place your weapons on the floor."

"Rainie ' "Shut up, Shep. Danny, are you with me?"

"He didn't do anything!"

"Shut up, G.o.ddammit, or I'm going to make you flatten out on the floor too!"

Shep shut up, but it was already too late. Danny's expression had grown wilder, and his right hand was beginning to tremble. Rainie s.h.i.+fted her stance for better balance. She slid her finger back on the trigger, just in case.

"Danny," she said more loudly.

"Danny, are you listening to me?"

The boy turned his head slightly toward her.

"This is pretty intense, isn't it, Danny?"

He nodded shortly, both his hands shaking now.

"I think you'd like this to end, Danny. I know I'd like it to end. So I'm going to tell you what we're going to do. I'm going to count to three. You are going to slowly lower your weapons to the floor. Then, when I tell you to, you're going to kick the guns over to my feet. Then you simply lie down with your hands and feet spread. That's it.

Everything will be over, Danny. Everything will be all right."

Danny didn't say anything. His gaze flickered past her, to where the two girls were sprawled with their hands still outstretched toward each other. He seemed to notice the teacher as well, and a deep tremor snaked through his thin frame.

Christ, he was going to go. Shoot himself or suicide by cop. Rainie didn't know which, but the end would all be the same. Dead bodies.

Dead kids. Jesus, no.

"Danny," Rainie said desperately.