Saving Alyssa. Loree Lough

my daddy.” Then she giggled. “I’m teasing you. His new name is Noah Preston.”

      George nodded in approval. “Here’s a trick question. What’s my new name?”

      “That’s easy. You’re Mr. Poopie Pants.”

      Chuckling, George slapped his meaty thigh. “By Jove, I think she’s got it!”

      He wasn’t smiling when he stood and looked at his watch. “Guess we’d better hit the road. We don’t want to miss our flight.”

      Nate recalled the order of events George had outlined on the phone last night. Once his badge got them through security, they’d board the plane from the tarmac, rather than at the gate. To further confuse possible O’Malley disciples, they’d change planes in Detroit, and again in Philly before landing at the Baltimore airport.

      Nate sipped coffee, wondering if their Baltimore-based sitter had stocked the apartment kitchen with real mugs, as promised. Over the past few weeks he’d spent enough time on the phone, and in Skype conversations with Maxine—aka Max—to know that she’d stocked the pantry and fridge, and added to the Walmart wardrobe George had provided. Everything they owned fit nicely in their backpacks, the only luggage they’d need between this dismal room and their new home in Ellicott City.

      Nate slung his bag over one shoulder, helped Melissa into hers. She’d been a real trouper to this point, going along with every change, accepting every loss, for no reason other than that he’d given his word that things would get better soon. Would she feel that way after her favorite doll, Cassie, “disappeared”? Maybe. But just in case, he had an ace up his sleeve, an idea born as he’d tucked her in bed the night before last:

      “Will Santa be able to find our new house?” she asked.

      “Of course he will.”

      “But how will he get in? Does our new house have a chimney?”

      Nate hadn’t noticed a fireplace in the pictures Max had sent to his cell phone, but it was a hundred-year-old building.... “I’m not sure,” he had said, “but even if it doesn’t, we’ll leave a door unlocked. You can tell him which one when you send him your wish list.”

      “I’m only writing one thing...puppy!”

      His heart ached now, just remembering how excited she’d been when she’d said it. Nate hated to disappoint her, but what choice did he have? Dogs barked, relieved themselves outside, needed to be walked, and he couldn’t afford the exposure. Maybe he’d surprise her with a kitten instead, and hope it would ease the pain of losing Cassie.

      George opened the door as Nate exhaled a frustrated sigh. “Ready, cupcake?” he asked, tousling his daughter’s hair.

      She was on her feet and beside the agent in an eye blink. Fortunately, George was big enough to block the exit. Goose bumps formed on Nate’s forearms. He needed to be on guard for that kind of thing from now on, because if she darted out of his sight, even for an instant...

      A shiver snaked up his spine as she chattered excitedly about her first airplane ride, about meeting Max in person. Melissa didn’t realize that Maxine Colson, like George, was a WITSEC agent. All she knew was that her Skype pal would meet them at the airport and deliver them to their new home. Max had helped Melissa find Baltimore on the map, taught her that the city was famous for the Orioles and the Ravens, steamed crabs and people who called each other “hon.” Nate didn’t know a whole lot more than that himself. But they had the rest of their lives to learn, together.

      As she climbed into the backseat of George’s boxy blue SUV, Melissa looked up at Nate. “Oh, Daddy...I mean, Mr. Preston? Can you belt Cassie in with me?”

      She looked so proud about remembering his new name. Overwhelming sadness wrapped around him as he looked into her angelic face. “Sure thing,” he said, tucking the doll under the belt. “Now you behave yourself, and listen to Alyssa, okay, Cassie?”

      Nate slid into the passenger seat. Alyssa. Alyssa Preston. Would he ever get used to calling her that?

      George got into the car, and as he inserted the key into the ignition, she said, “Oh no!”

      The agent met her eyes in the rearview mirror. “What...did we forget something important?”

      “Yes! Something very important! We forgot to give Cassie a new name!”

      He swallowed hard, adjusted the Windsor knot of his rumpled blue tie. “I only gave you one job to do,” said the hard, silent gaze he aimed in Nate’s direction. He’d stressed that, because of facial recognition software, Cassie, who was visible in nearly every family photo, could not go to Baltimore. So Nate had come up with a two-birds-with-one-stone plan: stuff Cassie into Melissa’s backpack as they entered the terminal, and when she wasn’t looking, leave the doll behind. A necessary evil to ensure his baby’s safety. But he hadn’t yet shared the idea with George.

      “How about this,” Melissa said. “Cassie has blue eyes like Mommy....”

      The men exchanged a worried glance, because they knew where this was going. Knew other things, too. Things Melissa was far too young to understand. She would never again see her teacher and preschool classmates, beloved grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins, or visit her mother’s grave at the Rose Hill Cemetery. Because all ties to their old life were forbidden. Including Cassie.

      “...so how about if I call her Jillian?”

      That wouldn’t work even if they didn’t have to get rid of the easily identifiable doll. Melissa waited for the grown-ups in charge of her safety and her fate to respond. Instead, George fiddled with the radio dials as Nate looked for an imaginary something in the glove box. As a kid, he’d fallen from a tree, all the breath whooshing from his lungs in the hard landing. He felt that way right now.

      George, having more experience with situations like this, regained his composure first. “Know what I wish?” he asked.

      In the eighteen months since O’Malley’s arrest, Nate had come to terms with his widowhood and had adjusted to life as a single dad. He more or less accepted the fact that because of his transgressions, he would never practice law again. When he learned that the marshals had built an entire livelihood for him around his questionable knowledge of tools, he figured he’d get used to that, too...thanks to George’s savvy advice. How would he fare without the big-hearted agent to advise and reassure him?

      “What do you wish?” Melissa asked.

      “I wish you’d write to me, once you’re all settled in your new place.”

      “Oh, I will. And you’ll write back, won’t you?”

      “You bet I will.” George winked. “Sure am gonna miss you, kiddo.”

      “Daddy says our new ’partment has a sophie-bed. You could visit anytime you want.” She looked at Nate. “Right, Daddy?”

      Oh, how he loved this kid! “George,” he said, “our sophie-bed is your sophie-bed.”

      Ten minutes into the half-hour drive to O’Hare, Melissa dozed off.

      “So you’re comfortable, working with Max?” George asked.

      Comfortable. What a weird choice of words. Nate pictured Agent Maxine Colson, who, after hearing about the nightmares, hand-flapping and stammering that plagued Melissa right after her mother’s death, had pulled strings and called in favors. Not only had she secured authorization to line up a child specialist, Max had also gotten permission to Skype with Melissa during those critical in-between months, easing the transition. During their often hours-long daily sessions, she’d listened patiently as Melissa recounted her days, recited entire plot lines of cartoons and movies she’d watched, and read The Velveteen Rabbit...seven times. Melissa was comfortable with the pretty redhead, and that was good enough for Nate. Still...

      “I don’t think I’ll ever be comfortable with a stranger again.”

      Nodding,