Wolgast had been ready to pull the plug but then she’d let the girl go, and the old one handed her off to Doyle, who carried her to the car before Wolgast could get in another word. After that, there was nothing to do but get out of there as fast as they could before the locals showed up and started asking questions. Who knew how many witnesses there’d been; it had all happened too fast.

He had to dump the car. He had to call Sykes. He had to get them out of Tennessee, all in that order, and he had to do it now. Amy was lying across the backseat, facing away, clutching the stuffed rabbit she’d gotten out of her backpack. Sweet Jesus, what had he done? A six-year-old girl!

In a dreary neighborhood of apartments and strip malls, Wolgast pulled into a gas station and shut off the engine. He turned to Doyle. The two of them hadn’t spoken since the zoo.

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Brad, listen—”

“Are you crazy? Look at her. She’s a kid.”

“It just kind of happened.” Doyle shook his head. “Everything was so crazy. Okay, maybe I fucked up, I admit that. But what was I supposed to do?”

Wolgast breathed deeply, trying to calm himself. “Wait here.”

He stepped from the car and punched in the code for Sykes’s secure line. “We’ve got a problem.”

“You have her?”

“Yes, we have her. She’s a child. What the fuck.”

“Agent, I know you’re angry—”

“You’re goddamn right I’m angry. And we had about fifty witnesses, starting with the nuns. I feel like dropping her off at the nearest cop shop.”

Sykes was silent a moment. “I need you to focus, Agent. Let’s just get you out of state. Then we’ll figure out what happens next.”

“Nothing’s going to happen next. This is not what I signed on for.”

“I can hear you’re upset. You have a right to be. Where are you?”

Wolgast took a deep breath, bringing his anger under control. “At a gas station. South Memphis.”

“Is she all right?”

“Physically.”

“Don’t do anything stupid.”

“Are you threatening me?” But even as he said the words, Wolgast knew, with a sudden, icy clarity, what the situation was. The moment to break ranks had passed, at the zoo. They were all fugitives now.

“I don’t have to,” Sykes said. “Wait for my call.”

Wolgast clicked off the phone and stepped into the station. The attendant, a trim Indian man in a turban, was sitting behind the bulletproof glass, watching a church show on TV. The girl was probably hungry; Wolgast got some peanut butter crackers and some chocolate milk and took it to the counter. He was looking up, noticing the cameras, when his handheld buzzed at his waist. He paid quickly and stepped outside.