Page 21 of Beyond Protection
I leaned against the counter. Close enough to smell him. Close enough to notice that his breathing had changed.
"Find anything besides the Camry?"
"Neighbor has a Ring camera. I'll get footage from the last week. Sight lines from the house across the street are clear to your bedroom window. Anyone with a telephoto lens could document you from there without being detected."
My stomach tightened. "You think they have?"
"I think we should assume they have. 847 documented images means they've been very thorough."
847 documented images.
"They haven't been in the house. All documentation appears to be external. That's important."
"Why?"
"Because it means they're following rules. Their own rules, but rules nonetheless. They're documenting, not touching. They're building a case, not acting on impulse." He drained his coffee and set the mug down carefully. "It gives us time."
"Three weeks."
"Yeah."
"Can I ask you something?"
"Yeah."
"Why'd you take this job? You drove up from Portland in the middle of the night. You could've said no."
A muscle in his jaw contracted. He looked toward the window where rain still ran down the glass.
"Michael's a friend. When he asks for help, I show up."
"That's not a reason. That's an excuse."
He turned back toward me.
"I work alone. I don't take jobs that involve—" He stopped—started again. "I take solo contracts. Clean situations. That's how I operate."
"Why?"
"No variables I can't control. No one depending on me except the client." His voice softened. "And clients are easier to protect when you don't—"
"When you don't what?"
He was quiet for a long moment. When he spoke, the tone was barely above a whisper.
"The last time I trusted backup, they buried my client three days before her wedding. Her name was Kyra. She was ajournalist testifying against a trafficking ring." He looked at his hands. "Someone I trusted gave them her route to the courthouse. I spent three years thinking it was my fault for not seeing the threat. Turns out the threat was standing right next to me."
A chill ran up my forearms.
"I'm sorry."
"Not your fault. But it's why I work alone. Why I don't—" He stopped again.
"Don't what?"
He stared into my eyes.
"Don't get involved. Don't let clients become anything more than assignments. Don't let myself feel responsible for anything more than keeping them breathing."
