It felt like an hour had passed, but it had not been more than a few minutes since they’d first entered the library.

Wanting to give the paramedics space to work and feeling suddenly claustrophobic, Brad made his way down the aisle to the front of the library, moving outside and taking a deep breath of fresh air. He felt as though he were going to vomit. He hadn’t given the official word that it was all clear—they still needed to search the school to make sure there were no other shooters—but someone must have, or the word had simply gotten out, because there was a crowd in the courtyard. Primarily parents, he assumed.

“Jesus,” Mitch said, stepping next to him and wiping the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. “Where’d they get that kind of firepower?”

Brad shook his head tiredly. “I don’t know.”

“I know.”

The sheriff turned to see Mr. Worthington standing right behind him. Neither he nor Mitch had previously noticed the bank manager.

“Yeah?” Mitch said. “So where’d they get it?”

“The Gun Barrel, over on Ponderosa.”

“How do you know that?” Brad asked.

“We financed it.”

“The store?”

“The store, sure. But the shooting as well.”

Brad’s blood ran cold. “What?”

“Oh, we didn’t know it was going to happen,” he said cheerfully. “I’m not saying that. But for our customers who might be a little short on cash, we have programs to help them finance purchases. Cars, couches, guns, what have you. So, indirectly…”

Mitch stepped forward threateningly. “You mean to tell me that you gave a loan to kids to buy assault weapons?”

Worthington shrugged, still smiling. “They’re customers. We opened a college saver account for each student in the school, which meant that they were eligible. We can’t discriminate, you know. Illegal.”

Classes were emerging from their lockdown locations, though Brad had not announced that it was safe to do so, teachers leading students out in double lines, as though they were kindergarteners. Parents rushed to their children immediately upon seeing them.

Worthington surveyed the campus in a self-satisfied manner. “Yes, every cloud has a silver lining, as they say. Someone was going to make money from this. Why shouldn’t it be us?”

“Have you no shame?” Brad said, his voice low.

“Don’t worry.” The banker grinned. “People will send their thoughts and prayers. That always solves the problem.”

He started to walk off, then turned back around. “By the way, we’re thinking of offering a free Glock to everyone who opens a new account with a minimum hundred dollar deposit.” He held up a hand. “But only if they’re of legal age.” His smile broadened.