Cait wanted to get home, not just to take Leyla off of Auntie Jane’s hands but also to spend time with her daughter. It had been a busy week, and the thought of just snuggling with Leyla in the big chair in her living room was insanely appealing. But Jane had taken the baby to the supermarket, so Cait knew she had a little bit of time. Another fifteen minutes wouldn’t make much difference, and she wanted to follow up on the Audi that had been parked on Badger Road this morning.

A quick stroll through the cubicle village revealed plenty of empty chairs. Only about half of the station’s employees worked on weekends—essential personnel or flex-time staff—and she made her way to a quiet corner. At first she pulled out her cell phone, but then she saw that the charge on the battery was low. When she stayed over at Jane and George’s, she never remembered to bring a charger. Instead, she picked up the phone on the desk she’d commandeered and tapped a button to get an outside line.

A call to information got her the number for the Medford Police Department, and she dialed quickly, glancing up at the clock. Just after nine a.m.

“Medford Police, your call is being recorded. This is Sergeant Bryce.”

“Good morning, Sergeant. My name is Caitlin McCandless. This is sort of a weird phone call, I guess, because I’m not sure what you can do about it. I live in an apartment on Boston Avenue, but my aunt and uncle live on Badger Road. George and Jane Wadlow. Anyway, during the night and early this morning there’s been a car parked on the street a few doors down, in front of the home of a family who are away on vacation. The driver stays in the car, almost like they’re conducting surveillance, and during the night my aunt witnessed what she thought of as a shift change, with one car taking over from another. She’s kind of unsettled by the whole thing, so I said I’d look into it for her. I went out this morning to try to talk to the driver, but as soon as I approached, the car took off. I guess my first question is whether or not you guys are conducting any surveillance on Badger Road.”

The sergeant made a noise in his throat, a kind of “hmmm.” Then he took a breath Cait could hear over the phone.

“I don’t know of any ongoing surveillance, Ms.… I’m sorry, what was it?”

“McCandless.”

“Are you a police officer, ma’am?”

“No. Why would you think that?” Cait asked.

“Just a tone of voice. But don’t worry, it’s a compliment,” Sergeant Bryce said.

“I was National Guard, did a double tour in Baghdad, so I guess you learn how to give a report.”

“That explains it. Look, I seriously doubt we’ve got anything going over there, but if you can hang on a second, I’ll confirm.”

“I’d appreciate it,” Cait said, and then she waited.

She expected to be on hold for a while, but Sergeant Bryce came back on the line after a minute or two.

“Ms. McCandless, I spoke to the detectives on duty and, according to them, there is no surveillance operation in your aunt’s area.”

“In some ways, that’s even more troubling. When I went out there earlier, the guy took off like a bat out of hell. They’re not making much of an effort to go unnoticed, but he definitely did not want to talk to me. It felt wrong. My aunt lives there, but she also watches my daughter while I’m at work. I’d really like to know what these people are up to.”

“Can you describe the car?” Sergeant Bryce asked.

“New model Audi. I got the plate number, actually,” she said, slipping the scrap of paper from her pocket. “Do you have a pen?”

“I do. Shoot.”

She rattled off the license plate number and then tucked the paper back into her pocket, just in case. Sergeant Bryce seemed competent and helpful, but she knew better than to rely on someone who had no personal interest in solving the problem. Maybe that was cynical of her, but she liked to think of it as merely practical. There were police who were very good at their jobs and took their duty as a sacred trust, and there were others who didn’t care very much.

“All right,” Sergeant Bryce said. “I’ll send a car by there right now. If my guys don’t see anything, they will do another pass tonight, after dark. Meanwhile, I’ll run this plate number and see if I come up with anything. I’m on duty tomorrow, so if you want to give a call back then, I’ll fill you in on whatever we come up with. In the meantime, give me a number where I can reach you.”

Cait gave him her cell phone number—reminding herself to charge it—and her home number as well. He asked her to spell both her last name and Jane’s.

“I really appreciate this, Sergeant,” she said. “Thanks for taking it seriously.”

“No worries. If some creep was sitting outside my house in the middle of the night, I’d want to know who it was, too.”

“Thanks. Seriously. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, if not sooner.”

After she hung up, she sat back in the chair and smiled. As bizarre as the last twelve hours or so had been, Cait felt like she had people looking out for her. It was a nice feeling. She wasn’t happy with the idea of being interviewed for the newscast, but she allowed herself to believe that the fallout might not be as bad as she feared.

A little instant celebrity, she thought. Fifteen seconds of fame. What harm could it do?