Brad pointed a finger at the man. “I don’t know if what you’ve done is illegal, but believe me, I am going to look into it. I am going to do everything I can to make sure you can’t pull anything like this ever again.”

“Yeah,” Mitch seconded.

Worthington laughed. “Good luck with that.” And he sauntered off in a jaunty manner that made Brad want to tackle him.

“I hate that motherfucker,” Mitch said under his breath.

“You and me both,” Brad said.

It might have been only a formality at this point, but they searched the rest of the school, fortunately finding nothing. FBI agents and TV news crews arrived within the next couple of hours, and the sky was filled with the unfamiliar sound of multiple choppers. Brad had no idea how the FBI picked and chose which cases to handle, but he was grateful for the assistance and gladly handed over the reins to this nightmare.

As annoying as he sometimes found his chief deputy, Hank had really stepped up lately, and Brad put him in charge at the scene, thinking that if he ever left this job, the department would be in good hands.

Why had that even occurred to him?

He knew why.

Clint

It was up to him to call Clint’s wife and tell her the news. This was the first time the department had ever lost a man, and the possibility that such a thing would happen in his lifetime had been so remote until now that he had not even considered how he would approach such a duty. A cowardly part of him wished that she’d hear it from someone else and then call him for confirmation, so he wouldn’t have to be the one to break it to her, but no call had come by the time he reached the station, and he knew that if he put off the notification any longer, it could turn into a problem.

How could she not have heard yet? he wondered. Maybe she had heard but had simply felt no need to call the station. Maybe she was with her husband now at the hospital or the morgue or wherever they had taken him.

None of that mattered, though. It was still his job to call her.

“Update from the hospital,” Carol said when he walked in. “Hildy’s going to be fine. They had to put a pin in his elbow and it’ll be two months before he can use that arm. So…desk duty, I’m assuming. But he’s lucky because a quarter of an inch to the left and it would’ve hit an artery.”

He nodded tiredly. “Thanks.”

“Are you—”

“I have a phone call to make,” he said, and closed his office door.

****