“Most went back inside,” Quinn said. “But a few are still patrolling the perimeter, stopping people who look like they might be leaving.”

As I turned left, my heart skipped a beat. “Someone like that?”

Jack followed my gaze to see silver-haired man cutting briskly through the smoking crowd. He checked his watch, as if hurrying off to do something before the intermission ended.

“Son of a bitch,” Quinn said. “What do you want to bet…?”

“I don’t,” Jack said. “Watch, Dee. Don’t react.”

“I know.”

He held out the cigarette again, and this time, I’ll admit, thinking of Quinn’s reaction, I hesitated before taking it. But I did take it, if only for the nicotine hit.

The man crossed the road, walked past us on the other side and ducked into an alley.

“Felix?” Jack said under his breath.

“I know, Jack, but we can’t. If Quinn and I cross that road, we’re going to be seen. We can try looping around—”

“Do that.” Jack retrieved the cigarette and stubbed it out on the wall, then dropped it into his pocket and took my arm. “Let’s go.”

We walked about fifty feet farther down the road, bringing us past the alley. Jack was curbside, so he looked down it.

“Still there,” he said. “Walking.”

We crossed, jogging between cars, then backtracked.

Jack’s arm tightened around my waist, getting my attention. “Your turn.”

I looked down the alley. It was dark, but I could see the silver-haired man had passed through into a well-lit parking lot on the other side. I swallowed the urge to tear after him and told Jack. He only nodded, still moving.

“Find another way,” he murmured. “Lane up here.”

“And, judging by that parking sign, it leads right where we want. Can—” I stopped and rephrased. “Should we turn down it?”

Jack hesitated, then nodded. As I passed the lane, I started veering that way, my gaze fixed on the entrance, a tunnel that would lead me to—

“What the fuck is this?” a man’s voice echoed. “I was taking a piss, okay? You try getting to the bathroom in there.”

There, partway down, two cops had a guy spread-eagled against the wall. He was beefy, with a crew cut, no older than me, wearing a rented ill-fitting tux.

“You guys had better explain to my date why I’m not in there, ’cause if she thinks I cut out on her, after I blew five hundred bucks…”

One of the officers saw me watching and gave a “move along” wave.

“Fuck,” Jack muttered as we continued past. “You see another route?”

“No, and I’ll bet you Mr. Silver Hair didn’t get stopped by the cops. Too old to fit their damned profile.”

Jack stopped and exhaled, pretending to watch traffic for a break to cross.