Chapter 4

Dad's hands were shaking so badly he could barely control them.

He tied one end of the rope around a bridge support, wrapped it around several times, and cinched it tight.

Then he looped the other end around his waist and tied it off securely.

"Mia, stay back. Don't come any closer."

He looked at me, his eyes filled with grim resolve and quiet despair.

To keep the frenzied mob from hurting me, he had no choice but to give in and jump into the deep water that had become his worst nightmare.

"Oh, so now you're trying to act like the good guy?"

Brenda sneered. She let go of me and stepped aside, putting on a show of concern.

I slowly got to my feet. I didn't cry or make a scene. I kept my eyes on Brenda, watching her every move.

Dad gripped the railing and swung one leg over.

Just as he was about to jump, I caught two chilling details.

First, the edge of a phone screen was sticking out from Brenda's loose sleeve.

Lines of live chat raced across the screen, and one word glowed red in the upper-right corner:

[LIVE]

Second, there was something wrong with the "drowning" boy below.

Most of his body was still in the water, but the back of his shirt bulged unnaturally. A distinct rectangular shape showed beneath the fabric.

It was a compact inflatable buoyancy bladder.

I'd seen one on TV in my last life. It was professional diving safety equipment. With that on, there was no way he could simply sink to the bottom.

"Everybody look!" Brenda shouted toward the phone hidden in her sleeve. "The heartless bus driver is finally getting what he deserves!"

At the same time, she pretended to step forward and help with the rope. Her hand slipped into her pocket.

Then she quietly pulled out a folding knife. The blade flashed in the pale sunlight.

She aimed it straight at the rope anchoring Dad to the bridge.

The second Dad jumped, she was going to cut it.

Without that rope, Dad would be helpless. He shook at the mere touch of water now and couldn't even bring himself to wash his face. In deep water, he could die.

This wasn't just a mob trying to shame him into saving someone anymore.

This was attempted murder, live on camera.

"Dad, don't jump!"

Something inside me snapped.

I didn't run over to grab Dad. I didn't try to wrestle the knife away from Brenda.

I was seven years old. There was no way I could physically stop an adult determined to hurt him.

Instead, I turned and sprinted toward the end of the bridge.

A pile of tools had been left behind by a bridge repair crew. I grabbed a short-handled hammer.

I didn't swing it at anyone. Instead, I brought it down hard on the glass front of an emergency fire extinguisher cabinet.

The glass shattered.

A red warning light began flashing, and a piercing alarm echoed across the bridge.

I dropped the hammer and used both hands to pull the heavy dry chemical fire extinguisher from the cabinet.

I yanked out the safety pin and aimed the nozzle straight at Brenda's stunned face.

A high-pressure blast of white powder erupted from the extinguisher.

"Ah! Cough, cough! You little bastard! What are you doing?"

Brenda staggered back, her face and hair coated in white powder. She couldn't even keep her eyes open. The folding knife slipped from her hand and clattered to the ground.

I didn't stop.

Lugging the extinguisher with both hands, I spun around and swept the spray across the crowd.

"Cough! She's crazy! That kid's lost it!"

People stumbled backward, coughing and shielding their faces.

The tight circle around Dad finally broke apart.

Dad froze at the railing, one leg still over the side, stunned by the sudden chaos.

With white powder swirling all around me, I screamed at the top of my lungs.

"Officer Cooper! They've got flotation gear under their clothes!

"They're livestreaming this! They're trying to kill my dad!"

Before I'd even finished shouting, red and blue police lights lit up both ends of the bridge.

Two police cruisers skidded to a stop, blocking every way off Old Stone Bridge.