The expression on the loan officer’s face told him that they weren’t here to buy books.

“Mr. Brown,” the man said.

Rollie nodded. The other two men, he saw now, looked like thugs. “Can I help you?”

“We don’t need your help, Mr. Brown. We are here because, well, to put it bluntly, you and your shop are not performing up to expectations.”

Something in the man’s tone caused a shiver of fear to pass through him, but Rollie pushed that feeling down and met the loan officer’s gaze. “What do you mean by that?”

“I mean that the bank issued you a loan with the understanding that you would be able to make a go of this business. Unfortunately, according to our calculations, you have squandered your opportunity.”

“But it’s the first month! I’m just starting out!”

“Nevertheless.”

“But…”

“The bill is due, my friend.” He made a motion, and through the door stepped Evangeline Evans, the Realtor who’d leased him this space.

“What are you doing here?” He could hear the fear in his own voice.

“Oh, she’s a little behind on her payments, but we’re letting her work it off.”

Evangeline, he noticed for the first time, was holding a hammer. On her face was a thin cold smile.

Fear flooded through him. He looked from the hammer to the loan officer’s face and back to the hammer. “Let me work it off!” he said. “I’ll do whatever you need me to do!”

“What we need you to do is be an example.”

“I’m talking about doing some work for you.” He nodded at Evangeline. “I could go over to Brave New World and teach Kyle a lesson, if you wanted. Break his arms, cut off a finger—”

“Unfortunately, Mr. Decker is not part of The First People’s family. He’s out of our jurisdiction. You on the other hand…”

“But if we took him out, I’d have more business!”

“Hold him,” the loan officer said.

The two thugs grabbed Rollie’s arms and pulled him taut between them. Evangeline stepped forward, hammer raised.

“People need to know that if they do not live up to their obligations, there are consequences,” the loan officer said.

“But I haven’t done anything!” Rollie screamed. “I haven’t missed a payment!”

“Gag him.”

The thug on the left was holding Rollie with one hand. He used the other to stuff a slimy snot-covered handkerchief in his mouth.

Rollie forced himself not to throw up, afraid he might choke to death on his own vomit.

But he was going to die anyway.

They’d be caught if he did die. None of them were wearing gloves. Their fingerprints were everywhere, and once the sheriff found his body—

“Oh, we’re going to Keshoggi your body,” the loan officer said calmly, as though reading his thoughts. “There’ll be nothing to find.”