Nightrise

knew that it was already too late, that he couldn't stop the man from firing.
    The Secret Service men closest to the platform saw the gun.
    Somebody screamed. The policeman had taken hold of Alicia but now he turned to see what had happened.
    He couldn't stop the man from shooting. So Jamie did the only thing he could do. He knew he was about to make the most terrible decision of his life, but he could see no other option.
    He gave the order.
    "Not Trelawny. The woman!"
    Warren Cornfield fired.
    But at the very last moment, he had swiveled around and shot directly into the bleachers. His bullet hit Susan Mortlake in the center of her forehead. She was thrown backward. And at once everything changed as the crowd went crazy, screaming and struggling to get away, and the entire parade exploded into chaos.
    The Secret Service people had acted too late but now they moved fast. Two of them threw themselves on top of Trelawny, dragging him to the ground. Two more dealt with Warren Cornfield. If there hadn't been so many people around, he would have been shot and killed. Instead, they tackled him, knocking him down and disarming him. He didn't even try to resist. All the life had gone out of his eyes. He didn't seem to know where he was or what he had just done.
    The policeman let go of Alicia. He suspected that she was part of what had just happened but he couldn't be sure and his job right now was to try to bring the crowd under control before anyone else was killed.
    There were people running everywhere, screaming, trying to protect their children. The barriers were being knocked over. The band had abandoned their instruments and were trying to get out of sight, afraid that there might be more shots. As Jamie watched, Senator Trelawny was led away and thrown into a car as if it was his turn now to be kidnapped. But of course, his safety was the first priority. His wife and children were also being bundled out of their seats. The whole family had to be removed from the scene before any more shots were fired.
    And what about Scott? He was sitting in the same place and looked dazed, as if he couldn't quite understand what had happened. Susan Mortlake was next to him, quite spectacularly dead. Jamie took advantage of all the confusion around him. The way ahead was clear. He ran forward, leaped over a barrier, and crossed the street. A moment later, he was climbing up the bleachers. There was a doctor crouching next to the mayor's wife, who was screaming, in hysterics. A few people were still in their seats, traumatized, blood-splattered. Jamie ignored them.
    Finally he reached his brother.
    "Scott!"
    Scott turned but didn't recognize him and that was when Jamie knew how much had been done to him, how badly he had been hurt.
    He didn't know what to do. He felt a burning in his throat. He had dreamed of the moment when he would find his brother again, but he had never expected it to be like this.
    And then a woman that he didn't know came up to him. Jamie glanced at her only briefly, taking in her reddish brown hair and expensive clothes. But she seemed to know him. "Are you Jamie Tyler?" she asked.
    He didn't know what to say. He just wanted her to leave him alone.
    'You don't know me, but I'm a friend of John Trelawny." She had to shout to make herself heard above all the confusion. "My name is Nathalie Johnson. I was here today as his guest but I've been looking for you. For both of you…"
    "My brother…"Jamie could only think of Scott.
    The woman nodded. "Please. Trust me. I can help you. We have to get you both away."
    On the other side of the street, the policeman who had been about to arrest Alicia was making connections. He had worked out that he knew the boy from the car. He was the boy who was wanted in Nevada — the one who had shot his uncle. And there he was on the bleachers, talking to someone, right next to the woman who had been shot.

    The policeman didn't understand what was going on. There was too much going on to understand. But one thing was certain. The boy was a wanted felon.
    He picked up his radio and began to talk.
    TWENTY-TWO
    Cave Rock
    There was no time to think and there was so much they needed to do. Nearly everyone had left the bleachers by now, desperate to get away from the sprawled-out corpse of the woman who had been shot.
    At the same time, police and paramedics had arrived and taken charge. They had no interest in Scott, who was still sitting there, staring ahead of him. There were some