As we roll toward the shadow of the toll booth, the sun fades from above. And it fades fast. It’s only then that I turn around and notice our speed. The engine’s revving. We’re about to blow through the toll booth at thirty miles an hour.

“Gillian…”

“Relax, it’s SunPass,” she says, thumbing over her shoulder and motioning toward the bar code sticker on her left rear window.

Charlie stares out the windshield; I look up to follow. The sign above the toll says SunPass Only.

Damn.

“Don’t go through…!” Charlie shouts.

It’s already too late.

We glide through the toll booth and a digital scanner focuses coldly on the car. Charlie and I simultaneously duck in our seats.

“What’re you doing?” Gillian asks. “It’s not a videocamera…”

Out the back window, the toll booth fades behind us. Charlie shoots up in his seat.

“Dammit!” I shout, pounding the dashboard.

“Wh-What?”

“Do you have any idea how stupid that was?”

“What’s wrong? It’s just SunPass…”

“… which uses the same technology as a supermarket scanner!” I blast. “Don’t you know how easy it is for them to trace this stuff? They know who you are in a heartbeat!”

Now Gillian’s the one who sinks a bit. “I-I didn’t think it was…” Her voice trails off and she tries her best to get my attention. She’s not getting it. I flip down the visor mirror to check on Charlie.

What’d I tell you? he asks with a glance.

“Oliver, I’m sorry,” she adds, reaching out and touching my arm. From the look on Charlie’s face, he expects me to cave. I brush her away.

Finally. Good for you, bro.

“I’m serious – I’m really sorry,” she continues. She touches me again, this time grabbing my hand.

Hold strong, Ollie. Time to claim victory, Charlie motions.

“Just drop it, okay?” I tell her.

“Please, Oliver, I was only trying to help. It was an honest mistake.”

Between the bucket seats, Charlie shakes his head. He doesn’t believe in honest mistakes – at least not when they’re made by her. But even he has to admit, there’s no real harm done. All we did was roll through a toll booth – which is why, as Gillian’s fingers braid between mine, I don’t hold her hand, but I also don’t pull away.

Charlie shoves his knee into the back of my seat.

I flip the mirror closed. He doesn’t understand. “Just next time, please be more careful,” I tell her.

“I promise,” Gillian replies. “You have my word.”

Charlie turns around and stares out the rear window. The toll booth disappears in the distance. He’s still watching our backs.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be more helpful,” Truman said as he escorted Joey back into the main lobby of Neowerks.

“No, you’ve been great,” Joey said, tapping her pocket notepad against the palm of her hand. On the top sheet, she had written Walter Harvey and Sonny Rollins – Oliver’s and Charlie’s fake names. “So after you spoke to your co-workers, you could still only identify one of the photos?”

“Arthur Stoughton,” Truman agreed. “But when I came back to tell Ducky’s daughter, she and the two guys said their thanks and disappeared.” Scratching nervously at his bushy hair, he added, “I only did it because I thought they were Ducky’s friends…”

Joey knew that tone. She could see it in his manic movements – even the way he glanced at the receptionist behind the shiny black desk. “You don’t have to worry, sir – you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“No… no, of course. I’m just saying…” His voice faded. “It was nice meeting you, Ms. Lemont.”

“You too – but only if you call me Joey.”

Truman forced a polite laugh, offered a fast handshake, and just as quickly scurried back to his office.

As the door shut behind him, Joey took a second glance at the receptionist, who didn’t look up… even though it was her job.

Joey went straight for the shiny black desk. “Can I ask you a quick question?” From her purse, she pulled out two photos – one of Charlie and Oliver, and the other of Gillian and Duckworth. She slid them onto the desk, then placed her dad’s badge next to them.

Lowering the magazine to her lap, the receptionist stared down at the photos and silently studied. “They’re not rapists, are they?” she eventually asked.

“No, they’re not rapists,” Joey said in her most comforting voice. “We just want to ask them a few questions.”

“You know they have different color hair, right?” she asked, still staring at the photos.

“We know,” Joey offered. “We’re trying to figure out where they went from here.”

“You mean after the library?”

“Exactly – after the library,” Joey replied, nodding like she knew it was coming. “Which reminds me – what library was that again…?”

Hearing the familiar beep as he pulled back onto the Florida Turnpike, he flipped his cell phone open and saw the words New Message on the digital screen. Assuming it was Gallo or DeSanctis, he calmly dialed the number for his voicemail.

“You have one new message,” the computerized voice said. “To listen to your message-”

He pushed a button on the phone’s keypad and waited for the message to play.

“Where are you? Why aren’t you picking up?” a female voice asked. The man grinned as soon as he heard Gillian. “I just spoke with Gallo,” she explained. “He was happy to hear about Disney, but he’s definitely getting suspicious. I’m telling you, the man’s no moron – it doesn’t take two blenders to the head to know what’s going on. Whatever you told him at the start, he sees the chessboard moving. Anyway, I know you wanted to throw him and DeSanctis a bone, but from where I’m standing, it’s two against one. So if you really plan on pulling this off, it’s time to get your ass up here and help me out. Okay? Okay.”

As the message faded, he hit Delete, slapped the phone shut, and put his foot on the gas. He was trying to stay away as long as he could, but like he always said back at the bank, some things required a personal touch.

“Whattya want?” Gallo asked as he picked up his cell phone.

“Agent Gallo, this is Officer Jim Evans with the Florida Highway Patrol – we just got a hit on that blue Volkswagen you were looking for. Apparently, it’s registered to a Martin Duckworth-”

“I told you it was registered to Duckworth.”

There was a pause on the other line. “You want the info or not, sir?” Evans challenged.

This time, Gallo was the one who stayed silent. “Tell me what you got,” he finally said as he and DeSanctis raced up the Turnpike. He could hear Evans’s quiet gloating on the other line.

“We put the name in SunPass, just to take a look,” Evans began. “Apparently, about forty minutes ago, a pass registered to a Martin Duckworth went through at Cypress Creek.”

“Which direction?”

“Headed north,” the officer said. “If you want, I can send a few cars out-”

“Don’t touch ’em!” Gallo shouted. “Understand? They’re CIs – confidential informants-”

“I know what a CI is.”

“Then you know I want ’em left alone!”

“Do what you want,” Evans blasted. “Just remember you’re the ones who contacted us.” With a click, the line went dead.

Next to Gallo, DeSanctis shook his head. “I still don’t think you should’ve called that one in.”

“It was worth it.”

“Why? Just to confirm she was going north?”

“No, to confirm she wasn’t going south.”

Nodding to himself, DeSanctis rubbed the back of his head, where a thin white bandage covered the still throbbing cut Gillian had given him earlier. “You really think she’s turning on us?”

“It’s definitely a possibility…”

“What about you-know-who?”

“Don’t even say it,” Gallo interrupted. “She said he flew in this morning.”