Stay by Victor Gischler

his fingers on the steering wheel, willing his in-laws to move faster.
    Amy walked toward him, the bag she’d brought from home slung over her shoulder. She climbed in the passenger side and shut the door. She looked straight ahead, specifically avoiding eye contact with her husband.
    â€œWhat do you think you’re doing?” David asked.
    â€œComing with you.” Amy said. “Elizabeth can handle Anna and Brent.”
    â€œI don’t think that’s a good idea,” David said.
    She offered him a withering look. “You don’t have the security codes to my building and office.”
    â€œYou could give them to me.”
    â€œWhat’s the senior administrative assistant’s name at the DA’s office?”
    â€œI don’t know.”
    â€œWho runs the bailiff’s office and what are the watch captain’s names?” Amy asked.
    â€œI don’t know.”
    â€œThis is a DA problem on DA turf,” Amy said. “This isn’t happening without me. I’ll admit being shot at was new. You can handle that part. But I’m going.”
    They looked at each other deadpan.
    David broke eye contact first, turned his head to watch Jeff’s truck back into the street. Jeff honked and waved out the window before pulling away.
    Amy took her phone out of her bag. “First thing is to figure out who in my office to call. Somebody trustworthy.”
    â€œPut that on hold. Think about it,” David said. “First thing we find a safe place and regroup.”
    â€œOkay then,” Amy said. “So drive already.”
    David shifted the Escalade into gear, leaving the quiet neighborhood and finding his way back to the freeway. They were over the bridge and into the city when David’s smartphone rang.
    He didn’t recognize the number but answered it anyway. “Hello?”
    â€œYou’re making a lot of noise out there, man.”
    â€œCharlie.”
    â€œAre you near a TV?” he asked.
    â€œNo.”
    â€œNever mind,” Charlie said. “I’ll send the video to your e-mail.”
    â€œNot to mine,” David said. “Send it to my wife’s e-mail. Get a pencil. Write it down.”
    â€œIt’s okay. I already have it.” Charlie hung up.
    Of course .
    They hit Midtown and crossed to the west side. The wind washed through the SUV. David felt conspicuous driving around in a vehicle with practically no windows, full of bullet holes, dents. Nobody much noticed. Welcome to New York City.
    â€œWhere are we going?” Amy asked.
    â€œI know somebody.”
    Three blocks later, he turned into a hotel parking garage and backed the Escalade into the darkest most remote corner he could find. David grabbed his duffel and Amy her bag and they found the stairwell and took it up to the lobby.
    They stood in line at the front desk, waiting behind a half-dozen people looking to check in. David exhaled, tried not to feel so impatient at how long the line was taking.
    â€œWhy here?” Amy asked in a low voice.
    â€œA friend,” David said. “I’m hoping for a favor.”
    When they finally made it to the front of the line, a cheerful young lady asked if they had a reservation.
    â€œNo, actually,” David said.
    She tsked. “That’s a problem. We’re filled to the max because of the convention. Even the overflow hotels are full.” She fixed David with a please go away look.
    David glanced quickly around the lobby. Roughly half the people wore little burgundy fezzes with gold tassels perched on their heads. Ties pulled loose, cheeks rosy, drinks in their hands. Shriners. David had been so occupied with his own thoughts, he’d failed to notice. He chastised himself. A lapse in awareness of his immediate surroundings could be exactly what got him or Amy killed.
    â€œIs Larry Meadows here?” David asked.
    â€œHe’s pretty busy,” she said. “Again, the