Georges lowers the window, brings up his pistol, and Pelayo does the same on his side. Before Georges can shoot, the woman shoots again, hitting the side of the door, tossing Georges back.

Pelayo gets off one shot that is insanely loud in the Yukon’s interior, and the girl is screaming and forces herself to the rear, and Casper grabs her around the waist, forcing the right rear door open.

Pelayo jumps out, leaving Georges behind, who’s now crying with pain, and he leans over the right fender, firing off three shots. The woman with the shotgun spins around and falls to the pavement. Beyond her, people are running away, screaming, and a couple of cars have collided by the fountain in their attempt to drive away.

The glass to the passenger door shatters as another gunshot rings out, and Casper yells, “The Army woman is coming!”

Pelayo whirls, sees the crazed woman coming at them, pistol out in front of her, and Pelayo yells, “Move!”

He breaks away from the Yukon, starts running to a small clump of people, knowing he can slip through them, make a phone call, and then get out of here before the county sheriff or state police roar up.

Another shot snaps out, something stings his leg, but he won’t break stride.

He needs to get out of here.

Now.

Pelayo turns, sees Casper breathing hard, trying to catch up, still holding that little brat in his arms, and he calls back, “Shoot her! Shoot her and get going!”

He keeps on running, hears the nearby crack of a gunshot, flips back one more time, sees the crumpled form of the little girl on the ground, Casper now racing faster, and Pelayo thinks, Yes, we’re going to make it.

The crowd ahead moves apart to let him and Casper escape.

Behind him he hears a woman screaming.

Good.

CHAPTER 87

MY FEET are sore and bleeding and I could give a shit. I race past the Yukon, turn, and there’s Pelayo and another man, holding my Denise, and I brake to a halt, bring up my pistol, and I’m about scream, “Stop!” but before I can do that, the man…

Lifts up his own pistol.

To my daughter’s head.

Pulls the trigger.

My daughter flops.

He drops her to the ground.

I scream so loud I can’t hear myself.

Rosaria Vasquez thinks, Christ, this hurts more than I could ever imagine.

Will it ever stop?

She’s looking up at the blue sky, some palm tree fronds, and she thinks, Well, good planning. Earlier she stopped to get her hair closely trimmed to disguise herself, and to purchase a Remington 12-gauge pump-action shotgun, because she no longer trusted anyone in this screwy case, and Amy Cornwall had taken her pistol back at the library.

But maybe she should have gotten a bulletproof vest.

That would have made sense.

She moans.

Jesus, is her chest ever going to stop hurting?

Tom Cornwall is moving toward where he last saw the Yukon driving away, with his wife, Amy, in full pursuit, when he hears Amy yelling, “Denise, Denise,” and then gunshots, and then a full-throated scream from his wife.