Julian eased out of his slouch. “Dan, they’re shutting down the exits. This is our last chance to get off Manhattan without doing end runs around a shitload of heavy private security. It’s down to two factions uptown, playing a squeeze game with guns. That Bright dude and the syndicate he’s working for are moving for takeover. They want the Island to themselves, every inch of it. There’s gonna be a whole new set of rules soon.”

“We’re clear to go now, but the chance is last and final.” Hannah waved her documents in front of Daniel like bait he kept refusing to take. “Got to grab it!”

“Then you’d better hurry up.”

Hannah flattened her palms against her thighs, blinking at the floor. Her pale hair fell across her face as if as tired as she was. “I can’t believe you’re doing this to us.”

“I’m not doing it to you. I’m just not doing it to myself. You’ll do fine without me. You always have.”

“Spare me the middle-child pout. We’ve been there for you when you needed us.”

That finally riled him. “Oh really? Like you were when Sara was shot?”

For once, I saw Hannah caught off guard.

“I was in Africa . . .”

“Yeah. Playing gonzo militant. No time for a minor domestic crisis.”

“We were hardly playing . . .”

“Tell me, H—do you really begrudge me a second chance?”

“Can we ditch the dirty laundry?” Julian cut in. “The first ticket says 8 p.m. We have to get through the uptown checkpoints, then find a berth at the ferry terminal for Sprite.”

“Why bother?”

“You don’t just walk away from your boat, man!”

“Why not?” Daniel glared at him. “It’s not like you’ll be back for her anytime soon!”

He wasn’t quick tempered, not by a long shot, but when he finally got there, his anger came big. I stepped around to snatch up the half-filled crate and shoot him a warning glance. His face had lost years to remembered rage and resentment. He looked about twelve years old. I wondered what deep hurt Hannah had done to him then, even before he’d had a wife to mourn.

“This isn’t useful.” I handed him the crate.

He shut his eyes, collected himself, and took the crate. “Absolutely right.”

“Okay, we’re out of here.” Julian shoved past us, steaming for the stern door. Maybe he figured only actual leaving could make Daniel change his mind. Daniel followed, swept up in his wake. I tagged after to watch Julian try to jam three loaded backpacks into Sprite’s rear cargo hatch. Clearly, they’d expected to be riding Melville to their departure point. When he was done, he stood on Sprite’s deck, staring down at us. His handsome face was blank as a board.

“You could stay, Julie,” said Daniel. “I wish you would.”

“You know better than that.”