“We need to get going,” says the paramedic.

I raise my hand and salute Tee in my clumsy civilian fashion. “We’ll see you at the hospital.”

“Bring me a shot of vodka. Good vodka. Make that a bottle.”

The paramedic laughs out loud, but Tee only glares at him. “I’m serious as a ruptured hemorrhoid, mister.”

The paramedic blinks in surprise. “I believe you.”

Before we walk away, I hear the hum and chatter of voices in the street. The neighbors have come out to see what all the noise was about.

“Do you have an extra sheet in that ambulance?” I ask.

The paramedic nods.

Trudging over to the open door, I rip a white sheet off a collapsed gurney and carry it to where Walt’s body lies on the sidewalk. A few residents have edged up to within twenty feet of him. Whipping the sheet open with a loud pop, I drape it gently over Walt’s upper body and head. To my surprise, Mia catches the other end and pulls it over his legs and feet.

“Thanks,” I tell her, looking back for Annie.

She’s standing beside Serenity, her eyes filled with awe. Mia starts to say something, but the screech of rubber drowns her voice. Two dark sedans have stopped twenty yards away, and the first man out of the lead car is John Kaiser. He runs toward us with his pistol out, and behind him come four more FBI agents, two brandishing what look like MP5 submachine guns.

“Who’s under the sheet?” he asks.

“Walt Garrity. The VK just tried to snatch Annie outside my house. It was an ambush. They took out our bodyguards. Walt stopped them.”

“They shot him?”

“No. Their van ran him over.”

Kaiser grimaces. “Christ. He was a rough old cob. This is going to be tough on your father.”

The words hit me like a hammer.

“John, can you watch the girls?”

“Sure, but—”

“I can’t let my dad hear this from somebody else.” I break into a run, heading down Washington Street. The jail is probably four hundred yards away, close enough for Dad to have heard the gunfight from his cell.

“Penn, let me drive you!” Kaiser shouts, but I can’t stop. The last thing I hear is the FBI man yelling, “Go after him! Keep him covered!”

Chapter 60

When I reach the jail, I find Quentin facing Dad through the scarred wire mesh of the visiting cubicle. I squeeze in behind Quentin’s wheelchair and brace my hands on its seat back, my right shoulder blade pounding with pain.

“What’s happened?” Dad asks, his face partly obscured by the wire. “We heard shooting from the cellblock. Then some kind of alert. Don’t tell me it’s Annie.”