“I guess it’s a good thing you didn’t figure it out, or you never would have rented me a room,” Letty said.

“I probably would have anyway, though. Because of Maya. And also, because I sensed you were a good person,” Ava said. She turned and gave her son a pointed look. “What happens now?”

“That depends on Letty,” Joe said.

“I’ll meet with the FBI agent today. Then I guess I’ll do whatever she wants,” Letty said. “I’m out of options, and I’m tired of running.”

They heard footsteps clattering down the stairs, and the discussion was suspended.

“Letty,” Maya said, running into the office. “Isabelle says she has to go to school now.”

Isabelle was a step behind the little girl. “Unless Mom writes me a note so I get an excused absence. Then we could go to the beach.”

“Nice try,” Ava said. “You go on to school. Maya will be here waiting after lunch, and so will the beach.”

Joe’s phone pinged to signal an incoming text message. “It’s from Agent Hill,” he told Letty. “She wants us to meet her for breakfast at the Seahorse.”

“The diner down in Pass-a-Grille? Now?”

“Maya can stay here with me,” Ava offered. “We’ll have our own school.”

“I can write my name,” the child boasted. “M-A-Y-A.”

Ava clapped her hands in appreciation. “That’s great. Let’s see if you can write my name. A-V-A. Hey, did you know my name is spelled the same backward and forward?”

“Nice parking job,” Letty said, as they approached his truck in the motel lot.

He opened the passenger door and she climbed into the truck.

“Did you really think I’d run?” she asked, as they pulled into traffic.

“No, but I didn’t want to take a chance,” he said. “The FBI isn’t fooling around with this stuff, Letty. They want to nail Evan Wingfield, and as I understand it, you’re their best shot at doing that.”

It was early and traffic was light. They passed tourists and retirees out walking or jogging along Gulf Boulevard, the road that strung the beach towns together, going south to St. Pete Beach and Pass-a-Grille.

The Seahorse Restaurant was a low-ceilinged wood-frame building sitting on a corner lot facing Tampa Bay across the street. It had cheerful green-and-red awnings and flower boxes spilling over with red geraniums. Joe pulled over to the curb. Letty sat very upright, looking straight ahead. Only her hands moved, clutching and unclutching in her lap. She’d hardly slept, and her stomach was in knots.

“I’m scared.”

“I know.” He placed his hand atop hers. “I swear, Letty, no matter what, I won’t let anything bad happen to you, or Maya. We’ve got this.”

She took a deep breath. Nodded. “Okay. Let’s go.”