Take a Chance on Me (20 page)

The rain had almost stopped by the time the cafeteria was cleared. Tom surveyed the room one last time, then stepped out into the chill evening.

Pockets of students huddled together, blocked off from the building by several police cars lining the sidewalk. Teachers walked back and forth, trying to calm worried students while eavesdropping on the cops stationed around the building.

Tom paced the sidewalk between the portables and the side entrance, trying to get his anger and fear under control. He was no help to anyone in this state.

A white van screeched into the parking lot, a blue and green logo prominently displayed on the side. Tom narrowed his eyes as the side door slid open, a cameraman and reporter leaping out before the vehicle came to a complete stop.

“No press,” he growled, stalking forward to escort them off the property.

The reporter turned, a relieved expression on her heart-shaped face. “Tom! I’m so glad you’re here.”

Suddenly the face registered. “What are you doing here, Ana?”

She shrugged. “Heard the report on our scanner. Is everything okay?”

Tom crossed his arms and looked away. Much as he hated the thought of dealing with the press, she was Jessica’s best friend and deserved to know what was going on. “Off the record?”

She nodded, gesturing at the cameraman to step back.

“A distraught student brought a gun on campus. And I’m afraid Jessica is mixed up in it.”

Ana stared at him, horror dawning in her eyes. “How? Where is she?”

Tom shoved a hand through his hair, helplessness washing over him again. “The boy was last seen heading for the theater. And I think that’s where Jessica is too.”

“Oh, my God.”

Tom nodded grimly. “The worst thing is, they won’t let me in. I know this kid, I know I can talk him out of whatever it is he’s planning, but I’m stuck out here. And the thought of Jessica in trouble…” He let the sentence trail off.

A commotion at the front of the school pulled both their attention. “What’s going on?” Tom yelled to the nearest cop.

“Hostage situation,” he replied tersely.

Tom sucked in a breath. He whirled around, fists clenched, desperate to punch something, break down the door with his bare hands, anything to get to Jessica and make sure she was safe. God, if anything happened to her…

“Can you help her?” Ana’s voice was pitched low for his ears only. She had shifted closer to him and was now standing at his elbow, her lips barely moving as she spoke.

“I’d stake my life on it.” And he would. His life certainly wouldn’t be worth much if she weren’t in it.

“Then do it.” She indicated her cameraman with a flip of her head. “We’ll create a diversion. You get in there and take care of it.”

He clasped her shoulder briefly. “Thanks.”

“She’s my best friend. You’re her best chance.” She smiled. “You can give me an exclusive later.” With a final handshake, she turned and grabbed her cameraman by the elbow. She walked up to the nearest cop, stuck a microphone in his face, and signaled for the camera light.

“I’m Ana Lopez for KITI news. We’re live at Summit High School where a hostage crisis is unfolding. Sir, what is the current situation?”

“No comment,” the cop said, shading his eyes from the camera’s bright light. While the crowd’s attention was turned to Ana and her crew, Tom slipped up the steps and through the side entrance into the school.

“Mark, what are you doing?” Jessica swallowed, trying to beat down the panic rising in her chest. He was several inches taller than she was, and his forearm lifted her chin at an uncomfortable angle. The cold metal barrel of the gun dug painfully into her side.

“I’m sorry, Ms. Martin,” he said, dragging her a few steps backward. “I can’t deal with the police right now.”

“And you think this will help the situation?”

“It buys me some time,” he replied.

“You know this will only make things worse.”

The gun left her side as he gestured wildly with his free hand. “How can things get worse? The girl I love is with someone else, I’m probably going to be expelled for bringing a gun on campus, and the police are here. My life is over.”

Jessica surreptitiously tried to pull away, but the gun was back in her ribs before she could get free. “It’s not over, Mark. It’s just not on the right track at the moment.”

“I don’t have any other choice,” he growled.

Jessica closed her eyes. Mark was trapped in a downward spiral, and he was dragging her along for the ride. If only she could find the right words to talk him out of it. If only she could fix the situation.

Jessica was a strong, competent, modern woman, but right now she wanted nothing more than to be rescued. She wanted Tom.

And she prayed that it wasn’t too late to tell him so.

Chapter Thirteen

The side hall was dark, lit only by the emergency exit signs at both ends. Tom pulled the door closed behind him, holding the handle so the latch wouldn’t make noise as it shut. Then he slipped down the hall under cover of darkness.

All his senses were on hyper-alert, bringing back the almost-overwhelming memory of his days on the force. He could hear the cops talking in low tones by the front of the theater, interrupted by the crackle and hiss of police band radios transmitting updated information.

He walked softly, creeping from shadow to shadow in an effort to avoid calling attention to himself. As far as he could tell, most of the cops inside the building were gathered around the main entrance, but there was no point in advertising that he’d ignored a direct order and broken into a secured area.

A glance through the narrow window in the door to Hickey Hallway informed him that the back entrance was being guarded too, so that left only one option.

He slipped his key into the lock and let himself into the janitor’s closet.

Darkness swallowed him up as the door hissed shut behind him. He couldn’t risk turning on the light As soon as the cops saw a blueprint of the building they would secure this area next. Tom flicked on the penlight attached to his keychain and trained it on the floor. Using it as a guide, he navigated around buckets and industrial-sized containers of disinfectant.

He reached the back of the closet and swept the tiny light over the narrow walls. Sure enough, about halfway up the right-hand wall were a series of iron bars, set into the concrete like a ladder at the deep end of a swimming pool. Tom grimaced and shrugged out of his tux jacket.

There wasn’t any doubt about it now, he thought as he grasped the first bar and began to climb.

He was definitely in love.

“Mark?” Jessica waited, but there was no response. She twisted a little in his grasp, angling so she could look at his face. “Mark, listen to me. Let’s sit down and talk.”

The blank look in his eyes was replaced by bleak despair. He blinked, and it was gone, but Jessica grasped on to the brief show of emotion. The kid she knew was still in there.

Slowly, she pried his arm from around her neck and stepped away, never losing eye contact with him. “Let’s go take a seat on the stage and talk this through.” He shrugged, which she decided to take as an affirmative. She turned and walked down the aisle to the edge of the stage, not wanting to know if his gun was trained on her the entire time.

Hiking herself onto the stage in her blue velvet dress was a challenge, but she managed it without too much trouble. She flicked on the work lights and sat on the edge of the stage. Mark took a seat next to her, the gun once again in her side.

“If they come in here and find you holding me at gunpoint, things will get a lot worse,” she said slowly, groping for the right words to say. She instinctively knew she needed the right combination of straight talk and compassion.

Mark snorted. “Worse? I’m kicked out of school anyway, and Lisa will never talk to me again. I should just kill myself and be done with it.”

“No!” Jessica winced as Mark started at her outburst. In quieter tones, she continued. “Is that what this is about? Suicide? No, Mark. Not on my watch.”

“This has nothing to do with you,” he muttered.

“I think the gun in my ribs says the opposite,” she argued. “You are
my
student, in
my
theater, and I will not let you throw your life away.”

“Nobody gives a rip whether I live or die,” he mumbled, but his words held less conviction than before.

“I do,” she replied without hesitation. “So does Mr. Cameron. And so do a lot of other people, if you’d stop to think about it.”

“How do you know Mr. Cameron cares?” His head was hanging down, and he looked up at her beneath clumpy bangs.

“He’s my friend,” she answered honestly. “We’ve talked about you before. He thinks you’re a great kid.”

They sat in silence as Mark considered that information. Then he sighed, head hanging even lower.

“Have you ever been in love, Ms. Martin?”

She swallowed. Her mouth was suddenly dry as she thought of all she had to lose.

“Yes,” she finally answered. “I have. I am.”

“Is it really supposed to hurt this much?”

She heard the anguish in his voice, knowing intuitively that her answer to this question could be the difference between life and death—for him, for her.

“I don’t know,” she answered honestly. “Strong emotions can cause strong reactions—both positive and negative. But love itself shouldn’t be painful. True love makes you stronger, better, more yourself.”

“Is that how you feel when you’re with the guy you love?”

“Yes,” she said, an almost painful joy blossoming as she recognized the truth of her response. “I do.”

“And he feels the same way about you.” It was a statement, not a question, but she answered it all the same.

“I don’t know.” The room in front of her grew hazy as her gaze focused inward. “I hope so.”

“It’s hard to love someone when they don’t love you back.”

“It is,” she agreed. “Maybe it’s like Shakespeare said. ‘Love from one side hurts, while love from both sides heals.’”

“Maybe I never really loved Lisa,” he said. “I can’t remember ever feeling stronger or better because of her.”

She paused, groping for the right words. “You’ve cared for Lisa for so long now,” she began. “It must be hard to see a dream fall apart like that.”

“It’s all I ever thought about.”

“I wonder if now might be the time to find another dream,” she said softly. “Find something to bring you joy. So that you know, when the right person comes along, you’re bringing your best self to the relationship.”

There was silence between them for a while. Through the closed doors at the back of the theater she could hear the police talking, their words indistinct. The noise seemed to escalate as they sat there. How much time did she have before they took direct action? She glanced heavenward in a swift prayer for support, and felt her eyes widen in shock.

Above them, clinging to the catwalk and motioning for her to be quiet, was Tom Cameron.

Oh, Lord, he hated heights.

Ever since police academy training days he’d been teased mercilessly for his aversion to high places. Feet-on-the-ground Cameron they’d called him, and for good reason.

He absolutely, positively, no question about it hated heights.

So how did he end up fifteen feet above the stage, on a rickety metal catwalk that was bolted to the sides of the theater with what looked like a fifty-year buildup of rust?

He’d crept along quietly, grateful that Jessica’s soothing voice covered the sound of his approach. She was talking to Mark as one might to a wounded animal—calmly, gently, with compassion lacing every word. At first he simply let her voice wash over him, soothing his frayed nerves and reassuring him that she was okay.

Then the topic of discussion sank in. He stopped directly overhead and listened intently as she talked about love.

She was in love.

In love.

With him.

He gripped the catwalk tightly. He wanted to shout for joy, gather her in his arms. Tell her he loved her too.

But first he had to figure out how to get down from the ceiling and help her with the troubled young man by her side.

And he didn’t have much time to do it either.

On the other side of that far door, the cops would be organizing their counterattack. A hostage negotiator would have been called in by now. Mark’s parents were probably on their way too. They had to get Mark to give himself up before the situation got even more complicated.

Below, Jessica was continuing the conversation with Mark, although Tom detected a note of strain in her voice that hadn’t been there before. It had probably been a bit of a shock for her to look up and see him fifteen feet above her head.

He looked toward the edge of the stage. Just a few more yards and he would be at the stage wall, able to climb down and continue his rescue mission from the ground.

Of course, Jessica didn’t look like she needed much rescuing at the moment.

He crept forward, gripping the side rails tightly. Below, Jessica was holding her own in a situation that would have sent others into screaming hysterics. Instead, she was doing her best to calm the boy down, give him hope, bring him to safety.

No wonder he loved her so much.

Jessica kept her eyes firmly on the edge of the stage, hoping Tom could make it off the catwalk without being noticed. Mark was close to releasing her. She could feel it deep in her bones. Maybe Tom would provide that extra nudge to help him make that decision.

She’d wanted Tom here to help her out. She’d wished desperately that she had access to his expertise and guidance. And like the
deus ex machina
of ancient theater, he’d appeared overhead. She had no idea how he’d gotten in, or how he’d known she needed him, but she was eternally grateful anyway.

Somehow, her conversation with Mark had opened the floodgates, and she listened quietly as he poured out his aching, wounded heart. He scrubbed away the traces of tears as he talked.

A quick glance to the side told her that Tom had reached the stage and was waiting in the wings for the right moment to enter. Jessica waited for a pause in Mark’s monologue, then tapped his knee gently.