The new Dylan…

The tickets that singer-songwriter Kayleigh Towne had sent Dance and the children.

“I guess,” Maggie said, less than enthusiastic.

A glance at Wes, who was, in turn, sneaking a look at his phone. He put it away fast. “Yeah, yeah…can’t wait.” More enthusiastic, though more distracted.

Dance herself was very much looking forward to the show. She reminded herself to check the tickets to see where the seats were. She’d left Kayleigh’s envelope in the glove compartment of the Pathfinder.

Five seconds later her son said, “Mom?”

“Yes, darling.”

A grimace, if a playful one. “Can I go meet Donnie?”

“What about brunch?”

“Can I do Starbucks instead? Please, please?” He was cheerful, almost silly. She debated, extracted a ten from her purse and handed it over.

“Thanks.”

“Can I go too?” Maggie asked.

“No,” Wes said.

“Mom!”

“Come on, honey,” Stuart said. “I want to have brunch with you.”

Maggie glanced at her brother darkly then said, “Okay, Grandpa.”

“Bye, Mom,” Wes said.

“Wait!”

The boy stopped and looked at her with small alarm in his face.

“Helmet.” She pointed.

“Oh.” He stared at it. “Well, we’re walking. I’ve still got that flat.”

“All the way downtown?”

“Yeah.”

“All right.”

“Yeah. Bye, Grandpa.”

Stuart said, “Don’t get a double shot of espresso. Remember what happened last time.”

Dance hadn’t heard about that incident. And didn’t want to know.

The door closed. Dance started to call Boling again when she noted that Maggie’s face was still troubled.

“You wouldn’t’ve had any fun with them.”

“I know.”

Dance began to say something to the girl, make a joke, when her cell rang again. She answered. “Michael.”

“Listen. May have our Solitude Creek unsub. A PG patrolman spotted a silver Honda Accord at the Del Monte View Inn.”

Dance knew it, a big luxury nonchain hotel not far from where she lived.

“It’s parked right behind the building. The driver was tall. Sunglasses. Hat but maybe he has a shaved head. Worker’s jacket. He’s inside now.”

“Tag?”

“Delaware. But how’s this? It’s registered to layers of shell corporations, including an offshore.”

“Really? Interesting.”

“I’ve got teams on the way there. Rolling up silent.”

“You know the place? There’re two lots. Have them stage in the bottom one. Out of view from the hotel.”

“Already ordered it,” he said.

“I’m ten minutes, Michael. I’m moving.”

She turned to her father and daughter, to see Stuart already on his feet, reading the recipe on the back of the Bisquick box.

She laughed. He looked as serious as an engineer about to power up a nuclear reactor. “Thanks, Dad. Love you both.”

Chapter 59

As he walked to Starbucks to meet Wes, Donnie Verso was thinking about their friendship.

The kid wasn’t like Nathan or Lann or Vince or Peter. He wasn’t that stand-up. And he wasn’t quite thinking right, like mind-set, the way he ought to if he wanted to hang with the Defend and Respond crew. Not muting his phone and alerting the bitch cop just as Donnie was about to crack her skull open and get her gun. Your phone, dude? Seriously? (Though, afterward, he thought maybe that had worked out for the best.)