Page 138 of Wyatt

“Be wise,” Kobie said and held up his phone.

“What?” he said to Tate.

“Sheesh,” Tate said. “Is this for real?”

“I…maybe. I don’t know.” He was walking with Kobie back to the hospital. But there was no way he was letting the guy near his kid.

“Listen, you’re right, we need people at the hospital with Ma and Mikka. But both RJ and York have seen this guy, can identify him, so they’re coming with me. But York is sending a cop he knows—”

“No!” Oh, he didn’t mean for that to emerge, but the last thing he wanted was RJ at the rally, more of his family around this guy.

Kobie looked at him. Wyatt schooled his voice. “Don’t bring RJ to the rally. Send her to the hospital. With Ma.”

A pause. “You okay, Wy?”

“Yeah. I’ll…I’ll meet you at the rally.”

Another pause. “Are you sure?”

He hung up. Turned to Kobie. “Listen, I don’t need to clean up. Let’s go.”

Kobie smiled. “You’re going to be perfect.”

Wyatt pulled up his Uber app and ordered a ride.

Thirty minutes later, they’d navigated through traffic and past the Pike Place garage. “Let us off here,” Wyatt said and they got out across the street, taking the under highway pass to the Elliot Bay Trail.

The pier had been sectioned off for the event, a great battleship in the background, a trailing line of flags from bow to captain’s roost, back to stern. A grand picture of Isaac White and Reba Jackson hung on the side of the battleship, the sloganFor a Safe Tomorrowin white letters against a red background.

Security lined the fencing that cordoned off the entrance, police and hired security checking the bags of the long line of people filtering into the event.

Already, the place was full, giant speakers pumping out country music. Flanking a platform at the back of the pier, in front of the battleship, were two sets of bleachers filling up with spectators and beside them, closer to the stage, risers for photographers.

Signs and banners waved in the wind off the Sound, the smell of the sea rife with brine and diesel fuel.

The perfect place to meet the everyday man and woman.

Signs dotted the growing crowd—White for President. Jackson for VP. More with slogans for peace, power, and prosperity.

“People have lost their minds,” Kobie said as they approached the gate.

Wyatt went right up to one of the security guards and pulled out his wallet, flashing his identification. “My brother Tate is head of security. He said—”

He got the go-ahead.

“This is my teammate,” he said of Kobie, pretty sure the security guard could see right through him.

But they passed, and Kobie looked over at him and grinned.

He wanted to throw the guy into the Sound. But if he did, the phone would go with him, and—

“By the way, once I make the call, if it’s not manually turned off, then…” Kobie leaned over to Wyatt as they passed a group of women holding signs. “Boom.”

“Shut it,” Wyatt said. He stuck his hands in his jacket pockets, trying not to let Coco’s voice trickle into his brain.

“How did you find her?” he said, his voice low.

“Followed you from the hotel to the hospital. She was very cute in her Blue Ox jersey.”