Walter Gormley shouted, spittle gathering at the corners of his mouth. “I just got off the phone with the police. You went into one of my schools and shot at someone. Do you realize what you could have done?” “Yes, I could have gotten rid of a problem that could ruin all of our lives,” Ephraim Brandlocker said. “And don’t tell me what to do, Gormley. I put you in that position and I can just as easily take you out.” This time the bar was closed and the shades were drawn, so no one walking past the tavern would be able to tell anyone was inside. “It was a prank, right?” Walter asked, trying to read Ephraim’s face. “You told me it would just be a prank. Something to make my dad look better and put a little egg on Thorne’s face.” Ephraim nodded. “That’s what I told you all right.” “So, what’s the big deal? It was a stupid prank and it went wrong, that’s all. We were teenagers, it won’t be held against us anymore. There’s a two year statute of limitations on wrongful death, I looked it up.”
