Conceal, Protect - By Carol Ericson Page 0,1

after her. One of her coworkers had dropped some change in the man’s hand once, and he’d rewarded her by grabbing her wrist.

When a threat stared her in the face, she could deal with it. She couldn’t handle this vague feeling of being watched.

A rush of people descended the stairs to the Gallery Place–Chinatown Metro station, and Noelle jostled along with them, protecting her soup. The hustle and bustle of people on their way home from work should’ve eased the tension that she’d allowed to steal through her body over the past few weeks. Her gaze darted among the faces, and the knots in her stomach got tighter.

She slipped onto the train and perched on the edge of a seat next to a woman engrossed in a magazine. Noelle swayed with the motion of the train, her soup sloshing in its container.

When she got to her station, she swiveled her head from side to side to make sure she didn’t have a shadow. Then she emerged on the sidewalk and made a beeline for her apartment building.

She punched in the code for the front door and jogged up the one flight of stairs to the apartment she now had all to herself. Her plastic bag of food hung from her wrist as she inserted her key in the dead bolt. The lock turned to the right with no click, and Noelle froze, butterflies fluttering in her belly.

Had she forgotten to lock the dead bolt this morning?

Holding her breath, she tried the door handle, which didn’t budge. She shoved the key into the lock and twisted the handle, pushing the door open.

The lamp she left burning all day cast a glow over her living room...and all the upended furniture and tossed drawers.

* * *

JARED DOUGLAS CLENCHED his hands into fists inside the white van parked on Noelle Dupree’s street. He dipped his chin to speak into the mic clipped to his jacket. “She just walked into her apartment.”

A disembodied voice crackled and then filled the van. “What’s she doing?”

J.D. peered at the tall, dark-haired woman on the computer monitor in front of him. His gut rolled. “She dropped a bag of what looks like her dinner and flew out of there. Five, four, three, two, one.”

Noelle burst out the front door of her apartment building, clutching her cell phone, and J.D. murmured, “Good girl. Get out of there.”

Even though J.D. knew the danger had left the building, Noelle’s actions showed she had her head on straight. She didn’t know that the intruders who had ransacked her place had split two hours ago. For all she knew, they could be lurking in her closet.

Paul’s voice intruded on his thoughts. “Did she leave?”

“She’s on the sidewalk now, talking on her cell phone.” He punched a few keys on the laptop and squinted at the phone number that popped up on the screen. “Calling D.C. Metro.”

“Those boys know this place is ours?”

“Lieutenants and above know. The patrol officers are going to check it out just like any other break-in call.”

“You don’t think they’ll find our cameras, do you?” Paul cleared his throat.

“Not a chance.” J.D. kept an eye on Noelle in his rearview mirror as she ended the call and edged closer to the busy bakery two doors down from her building. She’d pocketed her phone and was pacing in front of the bakery window.

She stopped. Her head jerked up. She seemed to be staring at the van.

J.D. slumped farther in his seat and shifted his surveillance of her to the side mirror. That wouldn’t look good if a subject made a Prospero agent. Maybe Ms. Noelle Dupree had spent too much time in that Spy Museum.

She straightened her shoulders and took two long, purposeful steps toward the van.

J.D. grabbed the keys swaying from the ignition. The lady had guts, but confronting a would-be thief wasn’t the brightest move.

A cop car swung around the corner, stopping Noelle in her tracks. She now aimed her steps at the approaching patrol car, and J.D. released a long breath.

She started talking to the officers before they even got out of their car. She waved her arms and gestured toward her apartment building—and toward him.

One of the cops loped down the sidewalk toward the van, and J.D. dug his wallet out of his pocket. The officer tapped on the window, and J.D. powered it down.

“Sir, what business do you have in this neighborhood?” The beam from the cop’s flashlight swept through the van and settled on the laptop