He aimed the pistol at Charlotte, though his finger wasn’t on the trigger. “You’ve had your time. High school. You think we’ve all forgotten, but we remember.”

Then the barrel was pointed at Leo. “You too. Your time was college. You probably look back on those kegger days every night in bed, but they’re gone forever.”

“And I suppose you’re going to talk about how I’ve had my time, too,” said Jonesy. His hand rested on his desk, firmly holding down the silent alarm it concealed.

“It’s been your time ever since. But no more. From now on, it’s my time. It’s poor stupid John Ianisto’s time at last.”