Page 37 of Nicole's Shelter

“You know they fought me on that. WITSEC, I mean.” She jerked against the seat belt so she could face him. “When they moved me when… the last time. They said I couldn’t keep the camera. They said I had to find a different hobby.”

“Why?” But he knew the answer.

“The whole reset button thing. Do you know how many people wish for a life reset button? It’s not nearly as cool as it sounds.”

“No.” He didn’t have to change his name when his wife died, but everything else had shifted. Other than his career, all of it still remained a little off, like a broken bone that never healed properly.

“I offered them stats about people and cameras. Hobbyists and professionals.” She sat back again, arms crossed over her chest. “Got a new camera out of the deal.”

“Congratulations?”

“It was better than the damned sketchbook they suggested.”

He laughed. Couldn’t stop it if he’d tried. He had a ridiculous image of her trying to sketch any one of the many shots on her camera.

“It’s two completely different mediums,” she ranted.

“I know.” He managed to catch his breath. “I get it.”

“He didn’t find me through the camera.”

Rick agreed. But there were plenty of other resources available to people with the right clearances, he thought as they passed a traffic camera on the interstate. “You know that ‘taking action despite resistance’ thing I do?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m about to do it again.”

She twisted in her seat, looking for the threat.

“No one’s found us yet. I just want to keep it that way.” He noted the current mile marker and envisioned the new route in his mind. He couldn’t be sure exactly how far south they were going, but he’d feel better if they were going through less populated areas. And maybe, if he made it seem like a short detour, he could convince her to go see Allie.

“We’ll take the back roads, unless you have a better plan.”

“Works for me.”

“It would be more efficient if you’d tell me where we’re going.” He intended to loosely follow the railroad, based on her earlier determination to get to the train station. It made sense, if she’d taken the time to develop a plan, to create little caches along an easily accessible route like the railroad that connected Florida to Maine.

“What’s your favorite type of subject? To photograph,” he clarified. When he’d gone through the recent photos, it seemed like she had a thing for fountains and parks, but maybe that was just because the area was close at hand. She had been intent to the point of reverent in the chapel this morning.

“I’m pretty opportunistic. The composition matters more than the particular subject. Behind the lens I feel like myself. It’s more real. Inside the pictures I can see the world as the most real me would see it.” She removed her hat and pulled her ponytail forward, taking out each band. “That sounds stupid.”

“Not at all.” He knew how it felt to flounder. Since losing his wife, he felt apart and alone unless he’d been on a mission with his team. Still, he couldn’t imagine being forced to learn a new name, a new personal history, and to walk around essentially a stranger inside himself.

“Why do you ask?”

“Trying to find the connection. Why burn down your apartment unless there was something incriminating inside?”

“The photos or records of them?”

“Are they all on your personal computer?”

“Only while I’m editing. I use a cloud storage account and have a hard drive as back up.”

One hand on the wheel, he drummed a random rhythm on his leg with the other. “Who knows that?”

“No one. Who would care enough to ask? Pictures for work I edit at work.”

And that computer had been hacked. There had to be another piece. Sure, the corrupt DEA agent could point to Nicole as a firebug, hoping it would flush her out and trip her up, but how had he known where to find her?

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