“You have to stay close,” he said. “Don’t talk to anyone. Do you promise?”

“Why can’t I talk to anyone?”

“It’s just a rule. If you don’t promise, we can’t go.”

The girl thought a moment, then nodded. “I promise,” she said.

Doyle hung back as they made their way to the entrance of the fairgrounds. The air was sweet with the smell of frying grease. Over the PA system a man’s voice, flat as the Oklahoma plain, was calling out numbers for bingo. B … seven. G … thirty. Q … sixteen.

“Listen,” Wolgast said to Amy, when he was sure Doyle was out of earshot. “I know it might seem strange, but I want you to pretend something. Can you do that for me?”

They stopped on the path. Wolgast saw that the girl’s hair was a mess. He crouched to face her and did his best to smooth it out with his fingers, pushing it away from her face. Her shirt had the word SASSY on it, outlined with some kind of glittery flakes. He zipped up her sweatshirt against the evening’s chill.

“Pretend I’m your daddy. Not your real daddy, just a pretend daddy. If anyone asks, that’s who I am, okay?”

“But I’m not supposed to talk to anyone. You said.”

“Yes, but if we do. That’s what you should say.” Wolgast looked over her shoulder to where Doyle was waiting, his hands in his pockets. He was wearing a windbreaker over his polo shirt, zipped to the chin; Wolgast knew he was still armed, that his weapon lay snug in its holster under his arm. Wolgast had left his weapon in the glove compartment.

“So, let’s try it. Who’s the nice man you’re with, little girl?”

“My daddy?” the girl ventured.

“Like you mean it. Pretend.”

“My … daddy.”

A solid performance, Wolgast thought. The kid should act. “Attagirl.”

“Can we ride on the twirly?”

“The twirly. Which one’s the twirly, sweetheart?” Honey, sweetheart. He couldn’t seem to stop himself; the words just popped out.

“That.”

Wolgast looked where Amy was pointing. In the air beyond the ticket booth he saw a huge contraption with rotating disks at the end of each arm, spinning out its riders in brightly colored carts. The Octopus.

“Of course we can,” he said, and felt himself smile. “We can do whatever you want.”