Licensed To Marry. Charlotte Douglas

appeared unscathed. Police cars, fire trucks and ambulances, sirens wailing, were converging on the scene. In a far corner of the lot, paramedics were setting up a triage station.

      Kyle was first off the chopper. The stench of cordite and burning electrical wires filled his nose, and plaster dust choked his lungs. Despite the clamor of emergency sirens, he could hear the shouts and screams of onlookers. A quick survey of the area revealed shock and disbelief on everyone’s faces.

      Roger Jordan, head of the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms’ Helena office, strode across the debris-littered pavement toward Kyle.

      “Everyone out?” Kyle asked.

      Jordan shook his head. “We’ve got a hysterical teacher over there.” He wagged his head toward the capitol mall. “Claims she lost three kids inside. Some woman volunteered to look for them before the blast. They didn’t make it out.”

      Daniel approached. “The governor?”

      Jordan set his mouth in a grim line. “Haskel and his secretary are unaccounted for.”

      Daniel turned to his agents. “Looks like our work’s cut out for us. Let’s find those folks.”

      “We’ve got extra hard hats with headlamps at our command post.” Jordan jerked his thumb behind him. “You’re welcome to them.”

      Kyle and his fellow agents followed the ATF leader and soon were fitted with headgear and additional flashlights.

      “Tread carefully in there,” Daniel warned them. “What’s left of the building is unstable. I don’t want to lose any of you.”

      With grim determination, the agents headed toward the devastated section of the building. Dust and smoke still billowed and swirled. Firefighters sprayed high-pressure hoses where flames continued to rage. Taking a deep breath, Kyle stepped into the ruins.

      It was like plunging into hell.

      LAURA STRUGGLED to her feet, coughing and choking on dust and smoke. Her first thoughts were of her father, and she prayed he had been safely evacuated with the governor. Her head throbbed, and although her ears rang from the concussion of the blast, she could hear the children crying around her. Her eyes ran so thick with tears, she couldn’t see the youngsters in the dim light.

      Dear God, if she was this scared, how terrified were they?

      “Kids?” she called. “Where are you? Are you all right?”

      A pair of tiny arms snaked around her hips. “I’m scared. I want out of here.”

      It was Tiffany’s voice. Laura stooped down and hugged the child. “Hear those sirens? The firefighters are coming. They’ll get us out.”

      A scrambling noise sounded in the wreckage beside her. “Jennifer?”

      The other little girl, her body racked with sobs, threw herself at Laura. “I wanna go home. I want my mommy!”

      Laura gathered Jennifer against her side. “It’s going to be okay, sweetheart. Jeremy, are you out there?”

      A low moan answered her call. It seemed to come from a few feet in front of her.

      “Hold on to my skirt, girls, and stick together. We have to find Jeremy.”

      Falling to her hands and knees, Laura crawled toward the sound of the moaning with the two girls close beside her. Debris scraped her knees and tore at her stockings, and she was operating almost blind in the suffocating dust. “I’m coming, Jeremy. Hang on.”

      Her outstretched hand touched a boot, and she quickly lifted the little boy in her arms. “I’ve got you now. You’ll be okay soon.”

      With Jennifer and Tiffany clinging to her for dear life, she headed back the way they’d come until she felt a solid wall ahead of her. She turned, braced her back against the wall as she sat, and settled Jeremy on her lap. The dust was beginning to settle, and she could make out the outlines of his stark white face.

      And the nasty, bleeding gash across his forehead.

      Wriggling out of her suit jacket, she took off her white silk blouse and tore a strip off the bottom. She tore a second strip, folded it into a pad and placed it against the gash on Jeremy’s head.

      “Be a brave boy,” she murmured to him as she pressed the pad against the wound and tied it firmly with the other strip. “This may hurt.”

      Jeremy only whimpered, and she prayed he didn’t have more serious internal injuries. She held him in her arms, crooning reassurances to him, and the girls huddled on either side of her. “We’re going to be all right. They’ll come for us soon.”

      As the dust settled, she began to comprehend their situation. The explosion—a gas main, perhaps?—had trapped them in the short access corridor to the ladies’ room. The framing of that alcove must have protected them from falling beams and debris, but their approach to the main hall was blocked. There was a hole large enough to lift the children through, but she had no idea what pitfalls lay on the other side. She didn’t dare send them out alone, and she feared the whole structure might tumble if she tried to clear her way out.

      She could still smell smoke, but she could also hear the sirens of the fire engines, the distant shouts of firefighters, and the splash of water from their hoses. If Miss Walker and the rest of her class had escaped the building, the teacher would have alerted the authorities that Laura and the children were still trapped inside.

      The only thing to do was wait.

      And keep the children calm.

      Jeremy lay still in her arms, but his pulse was steady and his breathing even. Jennifer and Tiffany sniffled on either side of her, and her hearts went out to the terrified little girls. She’d be crying herself, but she had to keep up a brave front for the children.

      “Miss Walker knows we’re in here,” she reassured the girls, “and she’ll have the firefighters looking for us. We’ll have to make some noise to lead them to us.”

      Tiffany wiped her nose on her sleeve. “I can scream real loud.”

      “Screaming isn’t a good idea,” Laura suggested with more calm than she felt. “We don’t want to frighten anyone.” Or get you more worked up than you already are. “How about a song we could all sing?”

      Jennifer gazed up at her through soot-rimmed eyes. “I know ‘This Old Man.’”

      “Me, too,” Tiffany said.

      “Good,” Laura said.

      In the far distance, blending with the noises of sirens, she could hear people moving through the ruins, shouting to one another. “If we sing real loud, the firefighters will hear us and come find us. Ready?”

      Their voices were raspy and thin as they began to sing, and little Jeremy lay entirely too quietly in her arms. But as the singing cleared the dust from their throats, their song grew louder and more steady. They continued gamely, verse after verse.

      “‘This Old Man, he played eight—’”

      “Hello! Where are you?”

      Laura and the girls broke off midphrase at the call. The voice that hailed them was rich and deep and coming from where the main hall had been before the blast.

      “We’re in here,” Laura called.

      She heard the sounds of debris shifting and someone approaching. A beam of light shone through the small opening that led to the main hall.

      Laura blinked in the glare and felt Tiffany and Jennifer cling tighter to her.

      The light beam withdrew, and another light, more powerful and widespread than the flashlight, filled the crevice. A big man with wide shoulders thrust his head through the small opening.

      Laura caught her breath. He looked like an avenging angel with a hard hat for a halo. Even with smoke and dust smearing his face,