of that works, but you need to make it easy for them.”
Detective Hook breathed out hard, like Wendy was asking him to move mountains, but then he snatched the paper back from her and turned to his computer to add a last-minute addendum to the contract. “Don’t know how it works, indeed,” he muttered. “You don’t know how anything works, if that’s what you’re asking for. Could have asked for money; I know I would.”
“I don’t want money,” Wendy said, loud and angry. “I want them to be safe. Can you promise me that you’ll make an effort and not just throw them away, hide them, or toss them somewhere just to get them off your hands? They’re people, and this is affecting them! It’s not a joke for them, or a glory moment. These are their lives.”
Wendy could feel Tinkerbelle looking at her.
“Yeah, yeah,” Detective Hook said. “Whatever you want, just make sure you do a good job. Grab that copy from the printer to your left and make sure your signature is clear.”
Tinkerbelle grabbed Wendy’s arm before she could move to the printer. “Me too,” she said hoarsely.
Detective Hook looked up from his computer with irritation. “What?” He put his reading glasses on like he needed them to hear her better.
“Put me on the list for that, too,” Tinkerbelle said. Quieter, but more insistent.
“But I already printed it out,” Detective Hook griped, taking his reading glasses back off.
“PUT HER ON THE LIST,” Wendy shouted.
Detective Hook startled, jerking back in his chair at the force of Wendy’s rage. He turned back to the computer, wordlessly typed Tinkerbelle’s legal name into the document, and hit print.
Wendy marched across the room, snatched the paper out of the printer, and brought it to Detective Hook’s desk. She took a pen out of his “World’s Okayest Dad” novelty mug and signed the contract.
“Head to the next office and get fitted with your surveillance equipment,” Detective Hook said, chastened.
Wendy turned on her heel and headed for the door, with Tinkerbelle close behind.
“If it’s any consolation…,” Detective Hook said to Wendy’s back. Wendy stopped to listen, not moving even when Tinkerbelle bumped into her back. “You’re better than he is. Remember that. He’s smart but he’s alone, and he always will be.”
Wendy didn’t reply. She just pulled the door open and left.
CHAPTER 16
Curly and Nibs were waiting for them in the front lobby, Curly bouncing his leg anxiously. He jumped up immediately when they rounded the corner. “He texted me. He wants to meet us in Edgewater.”
“Do you have any more money for the bus?” Tinkerbelle asked.
Nibs shrugged. “They gave us a couple of fare cards.”
“Oooh, I wonder if it will work after tonight,” Tinkerbelle said, eyes brightening.
“They wouldn’t give us a fare card we could use indefinitely,” Curly said. “I’m pretty sure it will stop working as soon as the sun comes up. Or it only has enough for, like, two rides on it.”
“It’s better than nothing,” Tinkerbelle said. She threw an arm over Wendy’s shoulders and they all went outside to catch the number twenty-two Clark Bus.
The ride this time was quiet and tense, but it was a different kind of tension than before. Wendy’s heart was steady, but her veins felt like they were full of lightning. She wasn’t shaking and scared—she was ready.
“Peter is going to send us home as soon as we get there,” Curly said suddenly after they had been riding for a while. He unbraided his hair and combed his fingers through it a few times. “He likes to isolate people, so just let him. We won’t really leave; we’ll follow you at a distance. Peter knows when he’s being tailed, so we’ll have to keep pretty far away.”
“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Wendy said. “The police will be following and listening in, and if anything happens—”
Curly shook his head sharply. “We never leave Tinkerbelle alone in the night.”
Oh yeah. Wendy had forgotten about that. The train ride to Peter’s house seemed like it had happened so long ago, but it was barely 2:15 a.m.
Tinkerbelle leaned the side of her head on the bus seat and closed her eyes. Nibs reached over and ran his hand through her short blond hair.
“It’s almost over, Wendy,” Tinkerbelle said sleepily. “Whether you succeed or not. How do you feel?”
“Nervous. Determined … exhausted.” Wendy laughed. “I stay up this late pretty often, but I’m usually in bed and on the Internet or playing video games. I think I’ve