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“What the hell?” he barked.
She ran, slipping around the booths, past the roller coaster, and disappearing into the pitch-black forest.
“Shit!” Michael gritted out.
We stopped, breathing hard and knowing she was gone.
“Was she living down there?” Rika asked us. “She can’t be more than eight.”
I shot her a look. “Do you recognize her?”
“No.” She shook her head. “She’s not from around here.”
I stared into the trees for another moment, hearing Lev and David start with the hoses and putting our shit out.
“Some mayor you are.” I chuckled. “Little Newt from Aliens is squatting in your abandoned theme park, and you’re trying on wedding dresses.”
Rika slapped me in the stomach and then took Michael’s hand, inspecting the bite.
“She’s a fighter, huh?” she joked, grinning up at him.
He snarled. “She’ll be back. Can’t get far on foot.”
And it almost sounded like he wasn’t so worried about the little shit’s safety and well-being, just itching for some payback.
Sirens pierced the air behind us, and I looked over my shoulder, seeing the oh-so-familiar lights of a police car
racing into the lot.
That was fast.
I looked to Michael. “Go. Hurry.”
He scowled at me.
“Go!” I whisper-yelled.
Don’t worry about me. Not anymore.
He held my eyes, but before he could argue, I started walking toward the ticket booths and the parking lot.
A single police officer, dressed in black in a thick jacket for the chilly October evening, talked on his radio as he looked around the park and the flames.
He noticed me, stopped talking to whoever he was talking to, and I could almost see the sigh.
“Will Grayson,” he said. “My favorite pyro.”
I pulled off my hat and gave him a smile. “Baker. How’s the family?”
“Growing.” He nodded, stepping toward me as I stepped toward him. “The wife is on baby number three.”
“Yours?”
He cocked an eyebrow, looking unamused.
I smiled wider.
“Are you going to make me handcuff you?” he asked.
