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double doors she and Bryan had hurried through just moments before. A fleeing man was shot in the back and flung forward out of sight, knocking down two people in front of him as he fell. Those rushing up the aisle behind him leaped over the fallen bodies. In the jury box, some were on their feet, stampeding like crazed cattle toward the door to the jury room. Others dived out of sight behind the box's low wall, impeding their fellows.
    Bullets flew everywhere.
    Another deputy, retreating along the courtroom's left wall, shot steadily at the murderous trio now sheltering behind the bench before being hit by a barrage of return fire that cut him down. The jackhammerlike crack of the shots blasted Kate's eardrums. She screamed along with the rest—but once again, the sound was only inside her head.
    "Kate, for God's sake, get under here!"
    The urgent summons came from nearby. Something warm and faintly moist grabbed at her leg. She squeaked, jumping, and sucked in a great gulp of air. Reality hit her like a bucket of ice water to the face.
    I could die here — only I can't. What would happen to Ben?
    As her son's beloved face rose in her mind's eye, panic clawed at her insides. Her survival instinct kicked in. Even as she recognized Bryan's pudgy fingers sliding away from her ankle she saw him, hunkered down under the dubious protection of the counsel table. He crouched on the balls of his feet, breathing hard, visibly sweating. His eyes were shiny-scared as he met her gaze.
    Oh my God, they killed Judge Moran. We — the prosecutors — are probably next on the list.
    Time resumed its normal ferocious pace. Twisting around, she speed-crawled toward Bryan. Her heart pounded like a marathon runner's. Her palms were so sweaty that they slipped a little on the terrazzo. Although she knew she really wasn't, she felt safer once the thin slab of mahogany was over her head. Crowding next to the sturdy warmth of Bryan's side, she strained to look out beneath the overhang, desperate to find out where the shooters were. What she could see was limited: briefcases and umbrellas and a scattering of papers that had fallen to the floor from the counsel table, part of the wall to the jury box, the lower hall of the bench podium, witness stand, and court reporter's station, the area beneath the defense table and dark paneling all around. The only people visible to her from that angle were the fallen deputy and Curry, who, while still hugging the floor, was moving in a fast, commando-style crawl toward the defense table and, beyond it, the wall that separated the well from the gallery.
    "This is bad," Brian said in her ear, his voice shaky.
    "We've got to get out of here." Terror squeezed her throat, making it difficult to force words out. Their dark little cave might have felt safe, but she absolutely knew it was not. For Ben's sake if for no other reason, she had to survive.
    What would he do without her? His dad was dead; she had no family to take him in. He would be all alone. The thought of it imbued her with the worst kind of fear.
    "Is that bastard even out there?" Orange Jumpsuit shrieked. "Pack, you see him? "
    "Can't see nothing through the damned rain."
    "We gotta chance it. We gotta go."
    At least two of the trio were scarily close, Kate estimated, judging from the clarity with which she heard their shouted exchange. Their guns sounded like they were being fired almost directly overhead. She still couldn't see them, which made the panic flooding her just that much worse. At the thought that at any second now they might remember her and Bryan, Kate shuddered.
    Please, God, don't let it be my time to die.
    She was breathing so fast that she feared she might hyperventilate. Her pulse raced. Her heart pounded. Loud crashes from the general vicinity of the bench made her cower, but try as she might to see, Kate couldn't tell what caused them. All she was sure of was that she and Bryan were in deadly danger. Knowing that the counsel table