Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
Noah
“Temperature’s dropping,” I say to Jake as we finish tightening the final screw on the motion-activated camera, hidden high in the spindly branches of the tree across from Alicia’s house. This isn’t her property, but we want more angles.
The cold has crept in with that bone-deep stillness unique to DC in late fall—not yet winter but threatening it. My breath fogs faintly in the air as I climb down and check the view on my phone.
It’s just one more layer of protection—a discreet vantage point that won’t trip alerts with every passing squirrel, but might catch something we’d otherwise miss. Anyone casing the perimeter will be looking closer to the house, not skyward.
“You think this is chilly, you should visit Chicago,” Jake says, rubbing his gloved hands together. He spent the weekend back in Chicago with his girlfriend. “The highs were below freezing.”
“Seriously?”
He nods, the corner of his mouth twitching.
Jake flew in earlier this afternoon—straight from the airport to the field. He’s staying at a hotel nearby.
As the last light fades and the shadows deepen along the sidewalk, the street feels quieter than usual—like it’s listening.
“You gonna move to Chicago?” I ask.
“Nah. Still got my place in the Highlands. Daisy and I plan to bounce between our places.”
“It’s nice you can do that. Long distance isn’t easy.”
“Yeah.” He smirks, pushing his sunglasses up onto his head. “Her gig’s flexible. We’re lucky. She’s flying in tomorrow.”
“Is that right?”
“Yep. Hudson’s cool with it. His idea, actually. Said he wanted to make sure we get the work-life balance thing right.”
“That’s good of him.” I close the toolkit, the sound of metal clicking oddly loud in the still air. My car’s parked under the carport, waiting for me to move it before Alicia gets home. “Glad Daisy was there when you got out of the hospital. You needed someone in your corner.”
Jake grins. “I got a bump on the head and some chest pain.”
“Didn’t you need stitches?” I arch a brow. “The answer is yes. I was there—at the hospital. That guy hit you hard.”
He rubs the back of his neck, sheepish. “A few stitches. Nothing major.”
“Well, you’ve got a thick head of hair—hides the damage.” I let the heart condition slide—he wants to downplay it, I can roll with that.
He chuckles, the sound easy and unguarded. “Daisy says a hard head goes with it. But yeah, she’s been good for me. We’re figuring it out. I upgraded her sofa for better TV viewing, she got me throw pillows for mine. One day we’ll consolidate, but this works for now.”
“Good for you, man,” I say, crossing my arms. I mean it. Jake’s a solid guy. The kind who’s seen too much but somehow still manages to smile.
He studies me for a second. “You seeing anyone?”
I pause. The question lands in murkier territory than he’s aiming to navigate. We’re standing between the sidewalk and Alicia’s brown grass lawn, the sky a flat gray, the air edged with frost. It’s small talk, but it cuts too close.
“Hey—just a question.” He lifts a hand, palms up, grinning. “Not digging.”
I give him a nod, wordless. Some things are better left unspoken. Especially the kind of thing that’s still figuring itself out. Alicia’s not someone you talk about—she’s someone you protect.
Jake lets it go. “I’ll head out. Got to check in with Hudson.” He clicks the key fob and the RAV-4 rental chirps in reply.
“Run and breakfast in the morning?”
“Sure thing.”
“I’ll swing by after the handoff to Gabriel.”
“Sounds good.”
He climbs in, and I stay there a moment longer, watching the taillights fade down the block. Then I turn back toward the house, scanning the tree—small, leafless, skeletal. It’s a backup, but sometimes the backups save lives.
Up the street, headlights in the dusk catch my attention. A familiar Rivian rolls into view, followed closely by a Toyota 4Runner. Alicia and Gabriel. I step forward, instinct tightening my chest.
She turns into the short drive, slowing beside my car. I wave, gesturing that I’ll move. She rolls down the window, the glass humming as it slides.
“I’ll move to make room,” I say.
“It’s fine,” she answers, voice soft but weary. “We can shuffle later.”
Gabriel’s SUV idles at the curb. He catches my eye, gives a quick salute—the silent, precise exchange of two men on duty—and then pulls away, his taillights vanishing around the corner.
Alicia shuts her car door and steps forward, shoulders drawn in like the day’s weight is pressing down on her. There’s a sadness to her tonight—quiet, bone-deep, and impossible to ignore.
“You heard?” she asks.
“I found it,” I tell her.
The corners of her lips tilt down, and in the next heartbeat she’s against me. Her head rests against my chest, the faint scent of her shampoo threading through the cold air. I wrap my arms around her and hold her there, letting her lean into the steadiness I can offer.
“It’s going to be okay,” I murmur, meaning every word. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”
“This is surreal,” she says against my jacket. “I just want it all to go away. I feel beaten down and exhausted.”
I rub slow circles over her back, feeling the tension in her muscles, the exhaustion radiating off her. My lips brush the top of her head, just once—a quiet promise.
I don’t say anything else. Sometimes holding someone is the whole conversation.
Then, a car door slams. Alicia flinches, instinctive, stepping back.
“Mom, I’m home!” Stella’s voice rings bright and oblivious, a child’s music in a too-tense evening. She runs up, her backpack bouncing, hair flying. “Is everything okay?”
Alicia smooths her daughter’s arm, the tenderness in her eyes doing something to my chest I don’t have words for. “Yeah, of course it is,” she says gently, stooping to grab the pack.
“Alicia, do you have a minute?” Jessica’s voice floats from the passenger seat of the SUV still idling by the curb. Richard’s behind the wheel, hands braced on the steering wheel, jaw tight.
“Why don’t you head inside and grab a snack,” Alicia says to Stella.
“Cool! Can we order in tonight?”
“You got it.”
We both watch her bound up the stairs. Alicia exhales, straightens, and walks toward the car like a woman going into battle. I fall into step behind her, just close enough to be a presence.
Richard’s eyes flick to me—sharp, assessing, maybe hostile. The look of a man doing math he doesn’t like.
“Hey, you two,” Jessica chirps, too bright and eager to be genuine. “How are you doing?”
“Good,” Alicia says, her tone clipped and polite. “Thanks for bringing Stella home.”
“Oh, you know we love to.” Jessica leans forward, smile wide. “I was thinking, maybe we could all go to dinner sometime. The four of us.” She glances at Richard, realizing a beat too late that he’s not on board. “Unless that’s awkward—”
“Maybe sometime,” Alicia says smoothly. “My schedule’s a nightmare lately.”
Richard scans the street ahead, then the rearview mirror. Everything about him screams get me out of here.
“Well, you know, the holidays are coming up. It’d be great to—”
“We’ll talk about it later,” Richard mutters, cutting her off.
“Oh. Okay.” Jessica waves with too much enthusiasm as Richard pulls away, leaving a trail of tension in their wake.
Alicia and I walk back toward the house. Though the air between us hums with unspoken things, I keep my hands to myself.
“I can move the cars—”
“Wait until after seven,” she says, pushing the door open. “There’ll be more street parking. Or after Stella’s in bed, we can pull them both inside the gate.”
The carport can hold two—she just leaves space for Stella’s basketball hoop. She’s a good mom.
Inside, the warmth of the house wraps around us, carrying the faint scent of cedar and something floral—Alicia’s perfume, clinging to the air.
“What is that?” she asks suddenly.
Stella’s at the counter, refrigerator door open, a soda can in hand.
“It’s the only thing—”
“You’re not drinking caffeine this late.”
“It doesn’t affect me the way it does you.”
“Stella.”
The girl hesitates, reads her mother’s fatigue, then swaps the soda for sparkling water.
“What did Jessica want?” she asks.
“Nothing.”
Stella tilts her head.
“Dinner,” Alicia admits.
“She’s so weird.” Stella grabs her drink and backpack. “She loves going out to dinner.”
“Some people do, hon.”
Stella’s halfway up the stairs when she says, “She wants us to be a version of Modern Family.”
Alicia freezes. “Why do you say that?”
“Well, not the gay family part,” Stella says matter-of-factly, “but the tight-knit second marriage thing. She asks about you all the time. It’s like she wants to be your bestie.”
Alicia stares at the stairwell long after her daughter disappears, then exhales. “Text me what you want for dinner,” she calls up.
She retrieves a bottle of wine from the fridge and sets it on the counter with a soft clink. Leaning against the island, she closes her eyes for a moment, like she’s finally allowing herself to feel the weight of everything.
“Would you like a glass?” she asks quietly.
“No, thank you.” I step forward, taking the bottle and the corkscrew from her hand. “Let me. Sit. You’ve had a day.”
Her shoulders drop, some of the tension leaking away. “Yes,” she says, voice barely above a whisper. “Yes, I have.”
She sits, wraps both hands around the empty glass, and watches me work the cork. I don’t mention the tracker, or Richard, or any of it. She knows I’m here. That’s enough for tonight.