THERE’S HUSTLE AND bustle, and soon enough, I’m in the living room with Scotty and the First Lady, and we’re dressed and ready to go. Gwen passes a lumpy envelope over to me that I slide into my coat while no one is looking, and while we’re all yawning and rubbing our eyes, Scotty is as sharp as ever.

My lower back still aches.

“Are you sure we need to do this?” he asks.

“Very sure,” I say, looking to my sister, who says, “Amelia’s still sleeping.”

I choke up. “You tell her…you tell her…”

Gwen comes to me, squeezes my hand.

“I’m going to tell her that she can have scrambled eggs or pancakes. That’s what I’m going to tell her.”

I squeeze her hand back. “That sounds fine.”

Scotty is next to CANARY, who says, “Why are we going so early? And where are we going?”

“I’ll tell you in a moment, ma’am,” I say. “But first things first…Scotty. Will you do a sweep of the parking lot and come back with the Suburban?”

“On it, boss,” he says, and he unlocks the door, and then slips out. I give him a few seconds, and motioning to the First Lady, we follow him.

We step outside on the small sidewalk. The sun is up, but it’s still damn early. The First Lady holds her bandaged left hand awkwardly, but I’m not in the mood for interrogating her.

I’m in the mood for my primary job.

Off in the distance among the parked cars I see the form of Scotty, looking around, making sure that there’s no one out there with bad intent, waiting.

I can’t help myself. I yawn. The First Lady smiles and says, “Still pretty tired.”

I say, “Some days my only goal in life is to be someplace where I never have to set an alarm, ever again, so I only wake up when my body tells me.”

A car suddenly starts up, and I reach for my pistol, then relax. It’s a woman in a silver Lexus, slowly going by, drinking from a travel mug of coffee. She waves at us both, and we wave back, and she drives on, ignorant of whom she’s just passed.

I say, “Earlier you said you had an idea of a safe place where we might go.”

“I did,” CANARY replies.

I slide my hand into my coat, to the lumpy envelope that my sister has just given me.

“Now’s a good time to let me know,” I say.