The Secret Son. Tara Taylor Quinn

as though she was lying in a snowdrift rather than on a schoolroom floor.

      Around the corner of the van Jack became aware of movement. A uniformed police officer approached him, a beagle puppy in her arms.

      “We got the dog, James,” Jack said even before he had possession of the animal. The officer was approaching from the side of the building, staying out of the boy’s sight—and shot.

      “He’s a puppy,” Jack said as the woman leaned over to hand him the squirming five-pound ball of brown, white and black fur. “He’s got big brown eyes and he’s all yours.”

      Holding his breath, Jack studied the monitor. Obviously more agitated, James stared at the little girl.

      “You want me to bring him in?” Jack asked.

      “What I want is my sister.” The boy’s words, delivered through gritted teeth, were fierce. “You got her out there, Cop?”

      “We’re working on it.”

      “Yeah, well, work a little faster. I’m not waitin’ around here much longer.”

      Marissa, who’d started to cry openly, received an angry kick. “Shut up!”

      Through the open window, Jack heard the growled command. James moved and Jack stiffened, his hand at his belt, ready to pull his gun.

      Reaching up, gaze on the monitor, he dropped the puppy through the window. And ignored the new sheen of sweat that broke out on his upper lip when James barely glanced at the dog.

      “Get up,” the kid told the little girl. She didn’t move.

      “I said get up!” James ordered.

      Marissa’s body convulsed, and then she settled back, a quivering mass. With the gun never moving from her throat, James one-handedly pulled the child’s arms behind her, yanked off his belt and strapped Marissa’s hands together. The little girl didn’t even try to fight him. He dragged her over to a far corner, to the left of where Jack was sitting.

      “Don’t move.”

      Keeping the gun pointed at the child, James moved to the puppy and pushed it back through the window. Jack caught the small shaking dog and handed it to the nearest officer.

      “Get my sister here in the next five minutes or I shoot,” James yelled just above Jack’s head. Close enough to slide his hand out that window and shoot Jack.

      “We’re working on it, James,” Jack said, as though reassuring a hungry boy that dinner was almost ready. “But it might take a little longer than five minutes.”

      The gun still aimed in the general direction of the little girl, the boy fired a shot. Splinters from the chalkboard sprayed around the room. The bullet lodged in the cement wall.

      Uniform and rubber-suited officers alike jerked to attention. All eyes were on Jack, guns pointing toward the classroom.

      “I have a shot,” one of the officers said. “Should I take it?”

      “No.”

      Jack wasn’t going to see that boy die if he could help it.

      He’d have to go in. James was shooting. It was only a matter of time.

      Marissa was lying to the left of the window. James was on the right. Jack’s job was to get through that window and put himself between the child and the gun.

      The worst that could happen was that he’d take the bullet. He hoped it would hit the bullet-proof vest he had on under his T-shirt. But if not, it would be his life in exchange for the child’s.

      Small price to pay.

      He shifted onto his knees. “James?” he called. “My butt’s getting sore sitting here, so I’m going to stand and lean on the windowsill. Okay?”

      It was a gamble. But if the boy’s attention was on Jack, chances were the child would be safe for another moment or two.

      “I don’t want you to be startled by the movement,” he said, crouching under the window. “Is it okay with you if I look in?” he asked.

      “No.”

      Peering over his shoulder, receiving the confirmation he’d been seeking, Jack rose to his full height. An officer inside the building was ready to rush the boy if James turned the gun away from the child for even a second.

      He stood.

      James, startled, aimed the gun at Jack, who pushed up the window and climbed in. “Just didn’t want you—”

      The rest of his words were lost in the chaos that followed. A couple of officers appeared from the back of the room as Jack put himself between the boy and the small blond girl lying on the floor. With one officer on either side and others filling the back of the room, they apprehended the boy.

      Jack reached for the now-hysterical child.

      And a shot rang out.