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Prologue

THE CHOIR KIDS

AARON WINSLOW WOULD NEVER forget the next fewsounds the instant they cracked through the night His body went cold all over He couldn’t believe that sohborhood

K-pow, k-pow, k-pow… k-pow, k-pow, k-pow

His choir was just leaving the La Salle Heights Church Forty-eight young kids were strea past him toward the sidewalk They had just finished their final rehearsal before the San Francisco Sing-Off, and they had been excellent

Then ca An attack

K-pow, k-pow, k-pow… k-pow, k-pow, k-pow

“Get down!” he screaround! Cover your heads Cover up!” He almost couldn’t believe the words as they left his mouth

At first, no one seemed to hear him To the kids, in their dress white blouses and shirts, the shots must have sounded like firecrackers Then a volley of shots rained through the church’s beautiful stained-glassThe depiction of Christ’s blessing over a child at Capernau on the heads of the children

“So!” Winslow screamed Maybe h the kids, shouting, waving his arrass

As the kids finally crouched low or dove for the ground, Winslow spotted two of his choir girls, Chantal and Tamara, frozen on the lawn as bullets streaked past them “Get down, Chantal, Ta each other, e frantic wails They were best friends He had known the four-square on blacktop