Joey saved him. “Oh, one more thing, guys.” She pivoted the screen to a new slide—Saltykova’s network map widened, two faint lines pulsing from NorthBridge’s transport vendor toward a defense-contract node labeledQuinTech.“If Norah keeps pulling, she is going to hit a name we’ve already bled for once.”
Ryder read the label, jaw setting. “Derulo.”
Marshall felt the map settle in his head Norah in the center, lines tightening around her position. He rubbed his thumb along the crease in the folder to keep from clenching a fist.
“Thanks, Joey. Everybody go home, get some rest. I have a feeling it’s going to be a long week.”
Chairs scraped. People stood. Tasking turned into motion.
Ryder caught Connor at the door. “Text me whatever you have on Chicago. I want the timestamps.”
They spilled out into the hallway, voices fading into the hum of the building.
Marshall lingered alone for a moment with the screen. NorthBridge glowed in white. Summit in blue. Two red threads pulsed toward a name they’d chased for a year. A helpless feeling churned in his chest like acid reflux. How could he control the game at this rate? The board was shifting so quickly, his grasp on the situation was tenuous at best.
CHAPTER 10
NORAH
By Sunday night,Norah had stopped pretending she was fine.
The weekend had blurred into spreadsheets and coffee cups, the hum of her laptop filling every silence she didn’t want to think about. She’d combed through county records, cross-referenced property deeds, and built a private file for Joey labeledMarketing Review—Archive, uploading it piece by piece to a hidden cloud folder.
Each time she hit save, the progress bar crawled slower. Each time she blinked, she swore she saw a shadow at the edge of her window.
She told herself it was exhaustion. Or guilt that she’d dragged a man like Marshall Kelley back into her life.
By the time she finally closed her laptop, the clock read 11:32. The house was too quiet, her thoughts too loud.
Norah stood by the front window, arms wrapped around herself. Georgetown was quiet this time of night—church bells long finished, restaurants closed, the occasional cab passing on wet pavement.
She should have felt safe.
Except… The black suburban had been parked on the opposite side of the street since early this morning. Same spot. Same silhouette. The rain had washed the license plate too blurry to read, but the driver hadn’t moved.
Norah’s first thought had beencoincidence. Her second,concern. And by the third, her stomach had gone cold.
She turned off the lamp and the TV, letting the house fall into shadow. The faint hum of the refrigerator was the only sound.
Then she grabbed her phone.
Norah: I think I’m being watched.
She stared at the message, then deleted it. If she was being watched, she didn’t want them to know she was on to them. Who knew if they’d tapped her phone. Maybe she was just being paranoid. Maybe not.
Norah: I think I might get a catsitter for Cleo.
She sent the innocuous message with a prayer that Marshall would understand what she was saying.
Marshall: She’s a special cat. What makes you think she needs someone to watch her?
At least his response wasn’t to call her crazy. He was playing along.
Norah: I think she must get kind of anxious, staring out the front window and seeing the exact same things on the street every day waiting for me to get home.
She didn’t know how she could be more obvious than that.
Marshall: What kind of toys does she like to play with?
