“Unless the gunman takes hostages,” I said.

My walkie clicked, and I told Monroe to hold on. I put the phone aside, on mute.

I depressed the button on the walkie. “This is Marsh.”

“I just talked to the kid who was in the art room,” Remy said. “The one who saw the weapon.”

“Yeah?”

“P.T.,” she said, “he told me the guy only had one gun. A .38 Smith & Wesson.”

A school shooter with a single weapon ran contrary to every constant that law enforcement knew of these situations. Even stranger, a revolver. A six-shooter.

“Did he see a duffel?” I asked. “Maybe some bag with—”

“Just the .38,” Remy said. “But that doesn’t mean he’s not packing other weapons or explosives.”

Exactly, I thought.

“SWAT wants to know what you see,” Remy said. “They’re gonna run a phone over to this guy. Pierce thinks he can talk him down.”

“Is the boss there yet?” I asked.

“Five minutes out,” Remy said. “Stuck behind a glut of parents’ cars.”

I stared at the female teacher, talking to the gunman. She was petite, with light brown hair that fell to her shoulders. The gunman put his hand on her forearm, and she looked down at it. He pulled his hand back.

“Get right back to you,” I said, and Remy clicked off.

When I un-muted the phone, Governor Monroe was still there.

“How are the teachers?” he asked.

“One is dead,” I said.

“Shit.” His response came back.

I used my binoculars to examine the building at the far end of the school grounds. The structure that had just finished construction.

“I read in the Register that you’re coming here,” I said to Monroe. “To dedicate the new library.”

“Yes,” he said, his voice quieter now.

I scanned the vinyl banner strung across the front of the library, and my eyes stopped on something etched into the stone above the banner. The governor wasn’t just speaking at the dedication.

“Your name,” I said, sliding over the Remington so I was ready. “It’s on the building?”

“That’s not why I’m calling,” Monroe said.

But it couldn’t be good. The Monroe family name on a building after this? Whatever this was about to become.

“Mason Falls isn’t known as a place where schools get shot up,” Monroe said. “Those cities become infamous. But you and I can change that, Marsh. In Georgia, we act strong and fast. We protect children.”

I stared down the barrel through the sights of the Remington, laid out across the roof. Sap drippings smeared across my forearms.

“What is it you want?” I asked.

“We can’t wait until this psycho hurts a child,” Monroe said. “Take him out. Now.”

“SWAT wants time,” I said.

Monroe’s voice got gruffer. “For Christ sake, you just said he killed a teacher.”

“They’re running a phone line,” I explained.

“And next they’ll form a committee,” he said. “Marsh, you owe me one.”

I exhaled, my nose making a whistling noise. This was what I’d been dreading since I heard Monroe’s voice.