The Third Victim Part 10

It was too late. His right arm lifted.

"No!" Shep sounded wild.

"Don't do it, Danny!" She had no choice, her finger pulling back on the trigger.

And Danny turned his gun toward his head.

"G.o.dd.a.m.n!" Shep hurtled toward his son. Rainie jerked her gun up and blasted her shot into the ceiling, just as Shep sent himself and his boy tumbling to the ground. Danny's handguns disappeared from view, trapped between two bodies. Then one came sliding out from between them. Rainie kicked it away and looked in time to see Shep grab the .2.1 in Danny's right hand. He squeezed hard. His son cried out. Shep jerked the weapon free and flung it down the hall.

That quickly, it was over. Danny collapsed on the floor, the fight gone out of him, as his father sat up. The burly sheriff was breathing hard and tears streamed down his cheeks.

"G.o.dd.a.m.n," Shep gasped.

"G.o.dd.a.m.n, G.o.dd.a.m.n. Ah, Danny .. ."

Belatedly, he tried to pull his son into his embrace. Danny pushed him away.

Shep's head fell forward. His big shoulders continued to shake.

Quietly, Rainie took control. She rolled Danny onto his stomach eight feet from where three people would never move again. She spread his

arms and legs and patted him down. Finding no additional weapons, she curved his arms behind his back and handcuffed his wrists.

"Daniel O'Grady," she said as she hauled him to his feet, 'you are under arrest. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law' "Don't say a word,"

Shep ordered roughly.

"You hear me, son? Don't say a thing!"

"Shut up, Shep. You can't invoke silence for your child, and you know it. Do you understand these rights as I've said them to you, Danny? Do you understand that you're under arrest for what you did here at school?"

"Don't say a word, Danny! Don't say a word!"

"Shep," Rainie warned again, but it didn't matter.

Danny O'Grady didn't even look at his father. He stood with his shoulders hunched, his oversize black Nike T-shirt too big on him, his features haggard. He said finally, "Yes, ma'am."

"Did you do this, Danny?" Her voice softened. Rainie heard her own confusion, her need for rea.s.surance. She'd known this boy most of his life. Good kid. Used to wear her deputy's badge. Good kid. She said more firmly, "Did you shoot these people, Daniel? Did you hurt these little girls?"

And he answered, in a faraway voice, "Yes, ma'am. I think I did."

Tuesday, May 15, 3:13 p.m.

Rainie and Shep remained silent, each trying to process what they had just heard. Shep didn't argue with Danny's statement, didn't try to say it was a misunderstanding, didn't try to remind her that Danny was just a kid. He appeared too overwhelmed.

Rainie herself couldn't think of anything more to say. She was a cop; she had heard a rough confession. Her duty was clear.

Rainie led her handcuffed murder suspect to the front doors of the school, where a dozen flashbulbs promptly went off in her face. The media had arrived. s.h.i.t.

She backpedaled furiously, yanking Danny away from the glare of hot lights and frenzy of shouted questions. He looked at her in dazed confusion, meekly submitting to her will. She wished he wouldn't look at her like that.

"You can't be seen walking out with us," she told Shep after a minute, the three of them pressed against the hall walls like fugitives.

"I'm not leaving you alone with him."

"You don't have any say in the matter. I can interrogate him without you, and I can sure as h.e.l.l stick him in jail without you, and you know it."

Shep absorbed this with a scowl. Oregon law didn't give much special consideration to juvenile murder suspects. As long as Danny was at least twelve years of age, he could be held criminally liable for his actions and would be eligible for waiver to adult jurisdiction. His rights were the same as those of any person under arrest, and his parents had no say in things. The best Shep and Sandy could do was hire a good lawyer for their son. And be happy that he wasn't fifteen years old, in which case he'd fall under Measure n and automatically be tried as an adult. And be happier still that Oregon didn't have so-called CAP laws, which would hold Shep or Sandy criminally responsible for allowing guns to fall into Danny's hands.

"What do you want to do?" Shep asked.

"Take off your shirt."

Shep glanced at his son, followed her train of thought, and unb.u.t.toned his sheriff's uniform. Underneath it was a plain white T-shirt, worn in places and bleached white by Sandy every Sunday when she did the laundry. The sight of him in just his undershirt made him look all too human and tore at Rainie's emotions a little more. She resented that.

Shep carefully draped his shirt over his son's head, as if his boy were made of gla.s.s and Shep couldn't bear to break him.

"It will be all right," he whispered. He looked at Rainie again, humbled and waiting for her next command.

"Go find Luke," she said, her voice coming out unsteady. She jerked her head toward the east exit.

"Have him bring the patrol car around to the side."

"I want to ride with Danny."

"No. Luke's going to find a state guy, someone we don't know, and he's going to interview you. Don't look at me like that, Shep. You know it has to be done. You and Danny have been alone together. He's your son-----We have to know what he said to you. What he did. Why you entered a crime scene alone, and' she smiled thinly 'why you appointed your second-in-command the primary officer the minute you got the call."

She met Shep's gaze and, for the first time, saw him flush.

"You didn't think I'd picked up on that, did you? Or were you hoping I'd let it go?" He didn't say anything.

"Did you know, Shep? Did you hear the news and already know?"

"It wasn't like that."

"I don't even believe you and I'm your friend. Dammit." Rainie was suddenly fed up. She was the primary. She had hours of work ahead of her, processing a thirteen-year-old boy, testing his hands for gunpowder residue, demanding to know why he'd shot up his school. Then she'd return to the crime scene, wade through it again and again in order to get into a ma.s.s murderer's head. Finally, worst of all -tomorrow morning, most likely, or evening at best she would personally attend the autopsies of two little girls who'd died holding hands. She would have to listen to the inventory of the trauma to their bodies.

She would have to imagine once again what their last moments had been like. Then she would have to contemplate that another child, one she'd known personally, one she'd been proud of, had done that to them.

"Get out of here," she told Shep.

"Find Luke and get this show on the road."

"I need to find Sandy first," Shep said stubbornly.

"We have a friend ... a lawyer. She can give him a call."

"Get out of here!"

Shep finally relented. He gave his son one last glance. It looked like he wanted to say something more but couldn't find the words.