Awkwardly, the two of them quickly switched places and pulled the lap bar back down, though this now left Amy in the unenviable position of having to deal with the wrath of the ride operator, who was squawking at them from down below.

“You two! You two up there!” a high-pitched voice shrieked. “Yes, I can see you!”

“Oh no,” Ryan whispered, now cowering in his seat. “Please don’t let him kick us off.”

“The guy and girl in carriage number seven, the green carriage! Don’t think I don’t know it was you!”

Gritting her teeth, Amy turned and poked her head over the side and made eye contact with a pimply faced teenager, who was scowling at her.

“I am so sorry,” she called out. “We didn’t—”

“You can’t do that!”

“It was an accident—”

“Those bars have to stay down whenever the ride is in motion!”

“Yes, I know. It was my bad. It won’t happen again. I promise.” She flashed her friendliest smile.

“Yeah, well . . . all right. But stay in your seats or else you’ll have to come off. I’m not kidding.”

She gave him a salute. “Got it. You have my word.”

He punched a button on his console and buried his head in a comic book. As soon as the Ferris wheel started turning again, Amy heard Ryan let out a relieved sigh.

“Thank you,” he said.

“You’re welcome, but what was all that about? Who are you hiding from?” Amy put her head back over the side and searched the ground; there was only one other person standing near the ride: a nondescript middle-aged man in a brown sweater. His most distinguishing feature was the old-fashioned camera draped around his neck. “Is it that guy down there?”

“Did he see me?” Ryan whispered.

Amy snuck a glance over her shoulder. “No. I don’t think so. Why, who is he?”

“His . . . his name’s Tom.”

“Okay, and who is Tom, exactly?”

“Tom . . . is the bank manager.”

“You’re telling me that all that was to avoid being seen by your bank manager?”

“Aren’t most people afraid of their bank managers?”

“Sure, but by the way you reacted, anyone would think you’d gone and robbed the place. Why are you so desperate to avoid him?” When he didn’t answer, Amy took a guess. “Do you owe them money? Are you behind on a credit card or something?”

Ryan went ominously quiet.

Amy was inclined to leave the matter there, and normally that was what she would’ve done—after all, a person’s financial affairs were their own business—but there was something about Ryan’s demeanor that made her want to delve deeper.

“Tell me to butt out if you want, but I get the sense this is something serious.”