Alpha by Greg Rucka Page A

and then he’d be kissing her. But it’s not, it’s Saturday morning, closing on the end of summer, and there’s been nothing from Ruiz, and Chain still hasn’t found whatever the hell it was that got Vesques killed, and, for that matter, neither has Bell.
    “Listen,” he says again. “Stay together today. Don’t let anyone wander off. Pay attention when you’re on the rides, know where the exits are.”
    “We always do.” Amy searches his expression, frowns. “Is this your normal paranoia or something else?”
    “It’s me asking you to do this thing, that’s all it is.”
    “I’m thirty-nine, Jad, I think I know what I’m doing. I know it better than you do, in fact. This is no different than running a classroom or taking them on any other field trip.”
    “I’m not questioning your abilities, Amy.”
    “Sure sounds like it.” She stares at him, the frown gone, mouth turning to a hard line. Bitterness and the memory of countless fights are swirling up between them, they can both feel it, and Bell can’t even remember what the fights were about, but the sense of déjà vu is profound, and saddening.
    “We all set?” It’s Howe, coming up on Bell’s periphery, his head inclined ever so slightly forward, almost solicitous. “Everything good?”
    Amy, still glaring up at Bell, says, “Everything’s fine, Marty.”
    “Good, great!” He stops beside them. “They’re acting like colts in a stable, we should get moving.”
    Another moment’s pause, awkward, and Bell knows that Athena and her class are watching them now—Nuri, too, most likely. He drops his head, breaking the stare with his ex, sighs before straightening up again, turning to look at Howe. “It’s going to get busy today. If I were you guys, I’d hit the near attractions first, the Wild World stuff. The animal shows are best in the morning, before they get tired. Then maybe loop around the park counterclockwise. You make it up to Lion’s Safari by ten or so you’ll have a lead on the rest of the crowds, at least until around noon.”
    Bell gestures, pointing to one of the pathways that snakes away from where they’re standing, to the northeast, skirting around Wild World Live! Howe follows the direction of his arm, nods, then checks the map in his hand. The standard park visitor’s map. Nuri probably handed them out with the badges, Bell thinks.
    “I’m not seeing anything here designated for the deaf, no services,” Howe says. “When we planned the trip, the website said there were services.”
    “The website’s correct. Just check in when you come off the line wherever you are, and as you enter, there’ll be a Friend there. Let him or her know what you need.”
    “Multimedia on a lot of these rides.” Howe taps the map. “If they’re not captioned, I’d like an interpreter.”
    “The park utilizes reflective, handheld, and even open captioning, depending on the attraction. Just let the Friends there know, they’ll take care of you.”
    Howe looks up from the map once more. “I was under the impression we’d have an escort, actually. An ASL interpreter.”
    Bell takes a second, thinking about this man, wondering if he’s pushing because he thinks he can or because he thinks he must. If this man, Howe, is a sincere advocate for his students, trying to secure for them the best WilsonVille experience that he can. Bell thinks that if he’d spent the last ten years as a father and not a soldier, he would know the answer.
    “I’ll see what I can do about getting a dedicated interpreter assigned to the group,” Bell says.
    Howe smiles slightly, nods, relaxing. There’s both a sense of relief and a vague disappointment coming from him, as if he has, perhaps, been cheated of battle. As if this is a fight Martin Howe has joined many times, and will do again. Bell knows the feeling, and it softens him immediately to the teacher.
    “I’m in my office or on the grounds all day,” Bell says, turning back to Amy.