Guilty Read Online Free PDF Page B

classrooms for the official beginning of the school day. This—fourth grade—was Ben's first year at the school, because they'd moved into the district at the beginning of the summer when she'd been hired on at the DA's office.
    So far, he had told her, it had been "okay." Which in Ben-speak meant he didn't want to talk about it. Which worried her. Which was no surprise. Practically everything to do with raising Ben worried her.
    She was so afraid she wasn't doing it right.
    Now the school was calling, and the knowledge made her stomach tighten with anxiety.
    Was Ben sick? Was he hurt? Or was it something else that the school wanted, something administrative maybe? Yes, that was probably it: a form she'd forgotten to fill out, a check she'd forgotten to send, something of that nature. Whatever it was, though, she couldn't possibly return the call now. The best she could do was wait until she could somehow manage to squeeze in a break.
    Please don't let Ben be sick or hurt, she prayed as she stuffed the now silenced phone back into her briefcase, slid Bryan an apologetic look, and, cringing inwardly in anticipation of what she knew she was about to face, rose to her feet.
    Crack! Crack! Crack!
    The sounds, faintly muffled, came out of nowhere.
    With her peripheral vision, Kate caught a blur of sudden movement: a door—the tan metal door to the secure corridor where prisoners were kept in a series of holding rooms until their presence was required in court—flew open. As she whirled to face it, someone in the gallery screamed.
    Those are gunshots was her instinctive first thought as the courtroom erupted into chaos around her.
    To her astonishment, Little Julie Soto sprang to his feet and ran around the far end of the defense table, his wiry, five-feet-six-inch frame conveying a surprising amount of menace despite its diminutive proportions and the ill-fitting gray suit he wore for the benefit of the jury. His long black hair and pale blue tie bounced as he moved, and his narrow face was alight with savage triumph. From somewhere he had acquired a pistol; it was in his hand.
    Kate sucked in air. Her heart gave a great leap.
    No! But her throat didn't work; her lips didn't move. She screamed it only inside her head.
    "You ain't putting me back in jail," Soto shouted to the accompaniment of an explosion of frantic screams.
    Judge Moran was on his feet, she saw as her disbelieving gaze followed Soto's. The judge raised his hands, palms outward, as if to ward off the threat. His eyes were wide and his mouth was opening, as if he was about to speak, or yell, or something. Whatever he meant to do, she never knew, because she was just in time to watch— bang! —as his head was blown to pieces.

C h a p t e r 4
    KATE EXPERIENCED the horror of Judge Moran's murder like a punch to the stomach. She gasped. Her ears rang. A sour taste sprang into her mouth.
    This can't be real.
    Blood and brains splattered the wall behind the bench. The gruesome cloud of red-tinged mist that was left where the judge's head had been just a split second before was still hanging in the air when his body dropped like a rock, disappearing from view. Kate's knees buckled at the same time. She collapsed into a kneeling position right there at the far side of the counsel table, eyes huge with disbelief, heart pounding. Her clenched fists pressed hard against her mouth. After that, she couldn't move. She couldn't breathe. She felt suddenly disembodied, as if she was viewing what was happening from a great—safe—distance.
    Please, oh please, let this be a bad dream.
    Men—two of them, at least one a prisoner, judging from the shortsleeved orange jumpsuit he wore—burst from the secure corridor. Pistols were in their hands. Soto glanced over his shoulder at them. "Vamonos! Let's go! "
    Crack/ Crack/
    More shots rang out, coming from roughly the direction of the jury box. One of the deputies firing back, Kate thought, although she couldn't see who was