He wondered if he meant it, and found, to his surprise, that he did. Barbara Wilson sniffled and looked up at him. "Mr. Malone—"
"Ken," he said.
"I'm sorry," she said. "Ken—I'm so afraid. I saw the hole in one of the men's heads, when you fired ... it was—"
"Don't think about it," Malone said. To him, the job had been an unpleasant occurrence, but a job, that was all. He could see, though, how it might affect people who were new to it.
"You're so brave," she said.
Malone tightened his arm around the girl's shoulder. "Just depend on me," he said. "You'll be all right if you—"
The State Trooper walked up then, and looked at them. "Mr. Malone?" he said. He seemed to be taken slightly aback at the costuming.
"That's right," Malone said. He pulled out his ID card and the little golden badge. The State Patrolman looked at them, and looked back at Malone.
"What's with the getup?" he said.
"FBI," Malone said, hoping his voice carried conviction. "Official business."