Free CARRIE'S PROTECTOR by REBECCA YORK

she would be the next person to get any information he picked up, but he knew she wasn’t going to accept that.
    He sighed. “Okay.” Walking over to the bag of clothing they’d bought, he pulled out black jeans and a black, long-sleeved polo shirt, which he took into the bathroom and put on.
    When he came out, she gave him a curious look. “Are we going to talk to the man or break into his house?”
    “You never know.”
    “Give me a minute.”
    She grabbed similar dark clothing and stepped into the bathroom. When she closed the door, he thought about leaving her in the motel but decided not to take the underhanded approach.
    She came out a few moments later, and he handed her the hat and sunglasses he’d bought. “Put these on.”
    When she had complied, he studied her, trying to assess how much she looked like the woman he’d just seen on television. She’d lost weight since he’d met her, which made her face more angular.
    “I can’t wear the sunglasses after dark,” she muttered.
    “You’ll wear them to the car now.” He stopped and gave her a direct look. “And the same rules apply as when we were in the field outside the safe house. If I tell you to do something, you have to obey me.”
    “You mean like an S-and-M master?” she shot back.
    He snorted. “You know what I mean.”
    “Yes.”
    “Then let me go out first.”
    “You wouldn’t have tried to make me stay here if you thought it wasn’t safe,” she pointed out.
    “Yeah, but I’m not taking any chances. When I give you the all clear, don’t run to the car. Walk like we’re here on a fun vacation.”
    “In Columbia?”
    “Maybe you’re planning a shopping trip to the Columbia Mall.”
    When she laughed, he said, “The point is, we don’t want to attract any attention.”
    There were no problems on the way to the car. When Carrie had settled into her seat, he pulled out of the parking space. Twisting the wheel made his arm hurt, but he figured the pain would keep him focused. Beside him, Carrie took off the sunglasses, tucked them into her purse and folded her hands in her lap. She sat very still, and he wondered if she was thinking she shouldn’t have come along.
    Finally, she cleared her throat. “Tell me about Aaron Madison. Why do you think he could be a problem?”
    “He certainly had access to the information about your trip downtown.”
    “Didn’t a lot of government people?”
    “Not really. They were trying to keep it under wraps so nothing bad would happen.”
    She made a dismissive sound. “Well, that certainly worked out well.” After a few moments of silence, she asked, “What else about him made you wonder?”
    “It’s hard to say. There’s something about him that I can’t put into words. I guess you’d call it a hunch that he could be a problem. Maybe because he always seemed on edge when I talked with him.”
    “Meeting with me was a big responsibility. That could be why.”
    “Maybe,” he said, but he was still wondering if it was something more sinister.
    They rode in silence for a while before she asked, “Where does he live?”
    “Bethesda,” he answered, naming a close-in, expensive D.C. suburb.
    “Won’t his family wonder why we’re dropping in after hours—or at all?”
    “He doesn’t have any children, and he and his wife, Rita, recently separated,” he answered, glad to put the focus on Madison again.
    “Do you know why?”
    “No. I only know that she moved out a few months ago and got an apartment in one of the luxury buildings near the D.C. line.”
    “Isn’t it unusual for the wife to be the one to leave?”
    “Yes. That’s one of the things I noticed.”
    “You had him investigated?”
    “Not with any depth.” He tightened his hands on the wheel. “Which may have been a mistake.”
    He waited for a comment on that, but she said nothing about his investigative skills. Instead, she said, “I met him briefly.”
    “How did he seem?”
    She thought for a moment.