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He climbs out of the vehicle, opens Alison’s door. She steps out and they stand in the parking lot, facing each other. He’s giving her that look he does sometimes, that weird admiring fatherly gaze.
Right as she says, “Please be careful,” Michael says, “I’ll be careful,” their words overlapping.
His response nearly levels her: “Copycat rat.”
He then hugs her tight. When he releases his hold, she notices Ryan has gotten out of the SUV as well.
“I’ll call when I’m sure it’s safe,” her father says to them both.
She holds back the tears. She needs her father to be sharp in case there’s trouble, not distracted worrying about her.
Ryan looks at her father, sticks out his hand for a shake. “In case WITSEC whisks you both off and I don’t see you again,” Ryan says, “I wish you good luck.”
Alison—she’s still Alison when Ryan is near—feels more sorrow in her chest. Ryan won’t be joining them if they go into WITSEC. It’s a risk. But he’s never been the target of the O’Learys. Just collateral damage.
Her father shakes Ryan’s hand firmly, then pulls him into a hug. With that, her dad turns and heads inside the structure.
Back in the vehicle, Poppy McGee says, “We can wait at my house.”
“No, we should wait here. He may need us,” Alison says.
“Trust me, I agree with you. But your dad made me promise I’d get you away from here, take you somewhere safe.”
“Well, break your promise,” Alison says.
Poppy says, “We need to trust him.”
Her father and this deputy have already agreed on the plan, the die is cast.
“You hungry?” the deputy asks. “I can get us some takeout.”
Alison hasn’t thought about food, isn’t sure she can eat. Ryan shrugs. He’s a giant and probably needs fuel to keep going.
“You guys like burritos?”
77
The museum is teeming with families and young children racing around the old carousels in the massive facility. Old-time music—the kind that reminds you of being a kid at the county fair—floats in the air.
Michael glances around for anyone who looks like a Fed—dark suits, sunglasses, erect posture, that kind of stuff.
The main attraction is a one-hundred-year-old carousel, the only one operable in the museum. A ride was included in the price of admission. He wanders over and watches as moms and dads hoist kids up on the painted wooden horses.
The carousel moves faster than he would’ve expected. No safety rules back in the day. A few teenagers stand on it clinging to tarnished brass bars, staring at their phones, looking bored, as the ride whirls around.
It’s then that he sees her.
The tall woman without any children with her standing on the carousel. As it rotates past, she makes eye contact with Michael. He’s met this agent before. She was the weird one who talked in riddles and told him about the disappearance of the guy who had the misfortune of running over mobster John Gotti’s son. Michael has a gnawing sense of dread.
The carousel makes it around again, but the agent is gone.
It’s then Michael feels the barrel of a gun jammed into his back. A voice says, “Let’s go outside. And let’s not risk hurting the kiddos.”
The voice isn’t that of the tall FBI agent.
It’s Shane O’Leary.
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