you with me?”
Silence.
“You can’t hurt any of those kids. That’s the rule. You can’t hurt them or the teacher or the school board lady, okay? Once you understand that, we can talk and I can help you out, but you have to tell me you understand me.”
A rustling sound came over the line, then Jennifer Barclay spoke again. “He said to tell you he won’t harm anyone. And I believe him. You won’t hurt him, will you?”
Beck looked out the window. It was still light, but the sky had begun to fade into purple, the shadows growing long and dark. He filled his voice with hearty reassurance. “He’ll be fine and so will you and the kids. No one’s going to get hurt. Our goal is to keep everyone alive, including Mr. French. I promise you that.”
“He said I could ask for some sodas. He’s thirsty….”
“I’d be happy to bring that in. Tell him to send out one of the kids and we’ll send in cans of anything he wants.”
He heard another muffled conversation. “Okay…okay…he says that’s fine.” She spoke once more, but this time in a whisper. “Look, this guy isn’t some kind of wild killer, okay? He’s a little simple, but he’s not going to shoot anyone. He loves the kids and he loved his job and he’s just upset because he got fired. Let me work on him a little bit, okay? I think I can talk to him.”
Beck closed his eyes. Everyone was an expert. “Miss Barclay—Jennifer—the man has a gun. He’s assaulted your boss and taken hostages. I understand that you know him and think of him as a friend, but he’s dangerous. You need to let us handle this.”
“He isn’t dangerous,” she insisted. “He can’t even read, for pity’s sake. I’ve been working with him for months. He’s confused and upset, all right? I’m telling you—”
He interrupted her gently. “Ma’am, we’ve got a situation here you’re unfamiliar with…but we aren’t. It’s our business so let us take care of it.”
“And just how are you going to accomplish that if he won’t talk to you?”
Beck waited a second, then spoke. “We don’t negotiate everything, Miss Barclay. Believe me, we have alternative ways of resolving issues.”
WHEN SHE WAS TEN, Jennifer’s father had taken all of them to Disney World for a rare family outing. She didn’t want to ride the monster roller coaster, but the cruel gibing she would have gotten from William Barclay had she refused would have been worse. She hadn’t known the word then, but sadistic came to mean a lot to her as an adult.
She’d looked askance at Danny, but he’d slid his eyes away from hers and stared off into the distance. He knew how frightened she was, but what choice did she have? What choice had any of them had? Afterward, when she’d jumped off the ride, her rubbery legs had given out and she’d collapsed. It was one of the few times she’d failed in front of her father, but it’d given her a taste of what Danny got every day. Her father had never let her forget the incident.
Her legs felt the same way now. She walked slowly to the rear of the classroom. Howard’s eyes were on her back, and she prayed she wouldn’t fall down. The children surrounded her as she reached them and kneeled down.
“I want you all to stay back here,” she said in a low, reassuring voice, “and don’t say anything. I know you’re scared, but so is Mr. French.” She glanced at Betty—no help there—then again forced her eyes to the children’s faces. “He lost his job last week and he doesn’t understand what’s going on.”
“Who called?”
She looked over at Juan and by the quiet way he spoke, she was sure he knew the answer to his question. “It was the police,” she said. “They’re outside and they’re going to help everybody, including Mr. French. But you guys have to do your part and don’t move from here. If you need something, Mrs. Whitmire will help you.”
Betty nodded but stayed silent.
Jennifer cleared her throat. “Mr. French has asked the police for some colas and they’re going to send some in to us….” She faltered here, not knowing what to do. Which one to send? Which ones to keep? Her gaze fell to Taylor and the answer became clear. The little girl was diabetic; she had to go. Jennifer reached for her. “But…someone has to go get the drinks, so Taylor here is going to help us out.”
She put her hand on the child’s shoulder and squeezed, leading her to the front of the room. She didn’t explain that the little girl wouldn’t be coming back. “You’ll be fine,” Jennifer whispered. “Don’t worry.” A moment later, Taylor was gone. Howard locked the door behind her, her tennis shoes slapping as she ran down the hallway.
Jennifer listened to the sound with Beck Winters’s words ringing in her mind. We have alternative ways of resolving issues. She’d seen enough movies to know what he meant. SWAT teams stormed buildings. People got shot. Hostages were killed. Then she remembered what else he’d said. No one’s going to get hurt…I promise you that.
She didn’t know him, of course, but she believed him. Unlike her father, he had the voice of a man who would tell the truth, no matter what.
Jennifer turned back to Howard. One way or the other, she had to try. “What’s wrong, Howard? Why are you doing this?”
He lifted his dejected gaze to hers. “I lost my job.”
“I know. Remember, I tried to help but—”
“They came and took my truck.” His expression was dead and lifeless. “How can I get another job without no truck? How can I pay my rent if I don’t have a job?” He started shaking his head before she could even speak. “I ain’t going back to that shelter place. There’s bad people living there.”
Jennifer didn’t want to be naive; this man had done just what the cop had said—he’d come into her classroom with a gun and taken hostages—but this was Howard, for God’s sake. He was a lost soul. Like Danny.
“You’re jumping to conclusions, Howard. Thinking the worst possible thing. Remember how we talked about that when you left here? I told you a positive attitude would help you get another position, remember?”
“And you lied.” His voice was blunt. “I went ever’where and I had a real positive attitude, but wouldn’t nobody hire me. Said they didn’t need nobody.” He took a ragged breath and stared out the window. The light drifting through was faint and dim. “That’s why I came up here,” he said. “I wanted to make Miz Whitmire give me my old job.”
Jennifer didn’t reply but he shook his head as if she had, his hand tightening on the gun at this side. “When she saw me in the hall, she acted all crazy and ever’thing, and started talking trash to me like she always does. Then she saw my gun, and she tried to run off. She crashed into the door and hit her head. That’s how she got the bump. I didn’t hit her.”
“Of course you didn’t,” she said soothingly.
“I—I reached out to help her up and something went off in my head, like an explosion or something. I grabbed her…then I didn’t know what to do with her. That’s when I saw I was by your door. I knowed you’d help me.”
“And I will, but Howard…what on
