“Well, then. I was approached the other day by a guy I’d never seen before trying to sell me local made bullets. Said he was new in town and set up shop in that old quonset hut on the south side of the airport. I guess it’s not really a factory; I think it’s just him and a bullet-making machine. Anyway, I told him I only sell from reputable manufacturers, but there’s no guarantee he won’t sell to those new stores. Or directly to individuals, people supposed to be my customers. And there’s no guarantee that his bullets won’t explode or not work or…who knows what. It’s not as if there’s quality control inspections.”

Brad was frowning. “Let me look into it,” he said.

“That’s all I’m asking.”

“I can’t promise anything. This could all be on the up and up.”

“I understand.”

“But I’ll see what I can find.”

“You know, if the town’s giving them preferential treatment when I had to stick to the letter of the law, I’m going to sue.”

“That’s between you and the town, Nash. I work for the county. I told you.”

“Yeah, well…”

Brad told Nash goodbye and hung up. Looking out his window onto the parking lot, he wondered why, all of a sudden, three new gun shops and a bullet manufacturer were coming to Montgomery. That was an awful lot for a town this size, and he had a hard time believing the community could support so many. And while he had absolutely no basis for thinking so, he couldn’t help wondering if this had anything to do with The First People’s Bank.

Suddenly the offer for bulletproof vests didn’t seem so benignly altruistic.

It seemed more like a warning of things to come.

Brad pushed the thought aside. He was just being paranoid, he told himself.

And he tried to believe it.

****

The afterschool program only held kids until six, and Brad was there to pick up his daughters at five fifty-five. They were quiet and subdued, as they had been since Patty had moved in with her fake family.

That had been unexpected. As crazy as the situation had been, his assumption had been that it would be resolved in a normal way. Which meant that she would throw away those dummies, stop going to that house and act like a responsible adult. They would talk things out. Maybe she would start seeing a psychiatrist or get medication, maybe they would separate as they worked through issues, but those details would be determined in a rational manner.