the end of a church driveway, barely a mile from the scene of the mass shooting here Wednesday, texting frantically on their cellphones, looking up anxiously as another motorcade of yellow school buses filled with survivors arrived, escorted by a line of police vans, lights flashing.

“My daughter is inside there,” Rosario Alcazar said of his daughter Anna, who worked as a secretary at the center for people with disabilities where the attack played out. “She’s O.K.,” Mr. Alcazar said of Anna, who had texted her father while she was whisked to safety in the church. “She’s safe. We are waiting for her to come out.”