When Lena answered, her tone was as chilly as Beck’s. “I don’t make command decisions based on the media. If you don’t know that by now, you should. You’re out of line.”
Beck closed his eyes and shook his head. Dammit, what in the hell was he thinking? What in the hell was he doing? His head throbbed, and suddenly he felt like the situation was sand slipping through his fingers. Lena had seen what he hadn’t in forcing him into taking that vacation. He did need some time off.
But not yet.
“You’re right. That was out of line, and I’m sorry,” he said stiffly. “But I still think Jennifer’s got a point. Howard French doesn’t have a sheet and I can get him out of there. Randy should be our last resort, and you know that.”
“What I know is he didn’t have a record before, but not now. Cal called in while you were talking. There’s been a new development. It’s not good.”
“What is it?”
“One of the guys found someone in the maintenance shack, out behind the school. We’re not sure yet, but it looks like it might be French’s supervisor.” She took a breath, then spoke. “He’s been shot with a .22 rifle.”
CHAPTER THREE
BECK’S GUT TIGHTENED. “Damn! Is he dead?”
“He’s hanging on but barely.”
“Has anyone talked to him?”
“No. He was completely out of it and fading fast. The medics were struggling just to get him to Central before it was too late.”
His gaze went to the school, his mind going with it to the woman and children inside. Did Jennifer Barclay know? He answered his own question. Obviously not. She wouldn’t be defending Howard French if she knew he’d shot his boss. Would she?
“Get him to the window.” Randy spoke bluntly. “It’s at the front, away from the kids. If he’s looking for the truck, I can get a clean shot.”
“And that’s it? The decision’s made?”
Lena answered. “We’re setting the shot, Beck, that’s all. I haven’t given Randy the green light.”
“All right.” Beck’s words were clipped. “But I think this is premature. I think you’re making a mistake, both of you.”
“I have to think of the team, Beck. The guys are getting tired and that means they’re going to get sloppy and let their guard down. I can’t risk a breakout, either. If he starts shooting…”
“I know the drill, Lena, but those kids in there are nine and ten years old. Do you want them living with the sight of a man’s brains getting blown out for the rest of their lives?”
“I want them to live, Beck. That’s my only concern and it ought to be yours, too.”
“But—”
“If you have a problem with this, we’ll discuss it later.” She interrupted him, ending the argument sharply. “Right now, act like a team member and do your job. Get the man to the window. When the time comes, I’ll decide if we shoot or not.”
THE CHILDREN were getting restless.
Jennifer had done her best to keep them corralled—without much help from Betty—but they couldn’t be expected to huddle in one corner forever. Howard had let them use the bathroom attached to the classroom, but other than that, they hadn’t really moved. She glanced down at her watch and was shocked to see the time. It was past eight!
The drinks had helped. A dozen cans had been left outside the classroom. Howard had made Juan retrieve them, then report back to him. Were there police in the hallway? No? Was he sure?
It was hot, too, and that didn’t help. The air-conditioning had shut down hours ago. It was on an automatic timer, but Jennifer suspected it’d been purposely shut down early. She pushed a sticky strand of hair off her forehead and glanced toward Howard. He was standing by the door. Obviously growing weary, his expression was one of pure dejection, his shoulders slumped, his face shadowed. The gun had never left his side, and she’d given up the idea of grabbing it. It was just too risky.
They’d talked on and off, but he’d refused to say much more than “It’s too late.” When she’d pressed him, he’d simply shaken his head, and she’d finally moved to the rear of the room to be near the children. Trying to reassure them, she’d sat down and waited for the phone to ring again.
When it did, though, what would happen? They weren’t really going to give Howard his truck…or get his job back for him. He wasn’t going to just drive away from the school and off into the sunset. Surely, he understood that.
The phone sounded shrilly, startling her even though she’d expected it. Jennifer looked at Howard and he gave her an almost perceptible nod. She jumped up and ran to the front of the room to grab the receiver. “Hello?”
He answered as he did each time he’d called. “Everyone okay in there?”
Jennifer closed her eyes briefly and leaned against the wall. “We’re all right,” she said. “But getting tired.”
“I understand. It’s a tough situation, but you’re doing a terrific job keeping everyone together.” His voice turned lighter. “How ’bout coming to work for us when this is over? I could get you a negotiator’s job. Sound good?”
Jennifer shuddered. “No, thank you. That’s way more excitement than I want. Ever.”
“It’s not all that thrilling. Mainly I sit here, then I talk but no one really listens, and when it’s finally settled, I do paperwork. The next day, we do it all over again.”
“Sounds like my job.”
He chuckled. “Yeah, I guess it does at that. You like being a teacher?”
“I love it,” she answered, surprised by his question. It seemed like a strange time to be talking like this, but it made sense in a weird kind of way. He was trying to keep her relaxed. “The kids are fantastic and I feel as if I’m doing something worthwhile. Most days, that is.”
“You are doing something worthwhile—all the time—but especially right now. You’re holding this thing together, Jennifer, and you really are doing a great job.”
For just a second, she almost felt she was somewhere else, in a different time and place. The warmth of his praise eased her fear. “Thanks.”
His raspy voice went serious. “So now…you have to help me some more. The truck’s finally on the way. Put Howard on the phone so I can tell him.”
“I’ll try.”
Jennifer turned and looked in Howard’s direction. He was staring into the distance, his mind obviously not in the present. “Howard?” she asked gently. “Howard? Please come talk to the officer.”
He didn’t respond at all. She rested the phone’s receiver on a shelf and walked to where he stood. Her stomach in knots, she ignored her fright and spoke firmly, as if talking to one of the children. “Howard, you need to come talk to Officer Winters. He’s on the phone and he has something to tell you.”
“You tell me.”
“No. You need to hear this yourself.”
To her total surprise, he nodded once, then lumbered across the room and picked up the phone. She hurried behind him. He held the receiver to his ear but didn’t say anything.
A moment later, he turned and handed her the phone.
Jennifer spoke. “Yes?”