CARRIE'S PROTECTOR by REBECCA YORK Page B

him a heart attack or a stroke.”
    “Sorry,” he said again. “My job is protecting you, and taking you home isn’t the way to do it.”
    She gave him a direct look—and the only answer that made any sense. “I understand.” After a moment, she added, “You said Patrick could email you, but you left your laptop back at the safe house, and you can’t get mail on a cheap disposable phone, can you?”
    “No, but I’m going to get another computer now. Then we’ll pick up some clothes.”
    She could see he was thinking several steps ahead, while she was just trying to keep her nose above water.
    Their next stop was one of the big computer and appliances chains, where Wyatt bought a midpriced laptop, using the credit card with the fake identity. Nearby was a discount department store where they each bought underwear and a couple of changes of clothing. He also bought Carrie a pair of sunglasses.
    “This is costing you a lot,” Carrie observed.
    “Your dad can add it to the bill when we get him back.”
    She didn’t bother saying she wasn’t positive of that outcome.
    By the time they were finished with the shopping expedition, Carrie was feeling worn-out. And she couldn’t imagine how Wyatt was holding up. His wound might not be life-threatening, but it should have been more than enough to slow him down.
    “We should eat something,” he said.
    She wasn’t hungry, and she’d been feeling tense the whole time they were in the department store.
    “We should call Patrick again,” she said.
    “I’d rather communicate by email.”
    “You said these phones can’t be traced.”
    “Someone could have tapped into the phone system at your father’s house. I’d rather not give them any information.”
    She sighed. “You have to set up that computer before you can get mail.”
    He nodded. “We can pick up dinner and eat in the room. That will save time. What do you want?”
    She shrugged. “It’s hard to think about food.”
    “But we both need to fuel up, with something simple and basic.”
    He drove to a fast-food burger chain and ordered loaded burgers, French fries and milk shakes for both of them. After getting the food at the drive-through window, they headed back to the motel, where he made a survey of the parking lot before pulling into the space in front of their unit.
    She was still feeling wired, but she knew she needed to eat. After unpacking the food, she sat at the table, nibbling on the burger.
    “Drink the milk shake,” Wyatt advised. “You can use the calories.”
    She took a dutiful sip and found that she wanted more. Wyatt sat down across from her, interspersing eating and sipping with setting up his computer.
    The room had a flat-screen television, and she picked up the remote and turned on CNN. The content of the broadcast gave her a shock. It was all about Carrie Mitchell.
    She watched in fascination as they showed the Federal Building where the ambush had taken place, then old pictures of her and even some of her friends talking about her.
    One was Pam Simmons, who had ridden in horse shows with her. Another was an editor who’d bought some of her nature photos.
    She studied the pictures of herself. Most of them were old. And in all of them her hair was different from the way it looked now, which was good. A shot of her standing with her father made her heart squeeze. She must have made some kind of sound, because she looked up to find Wyatt watching her.
    “I’m a celebrity.”
    “Unfortunately.”
    “I had no idea I would attract so much attention.”
    “The shooting’s big news. Bigger than the original terrorist plot.”
    “Why?”
    “You foiled the plot, making it a nonevent. The shooting’s the real deal.”
    She sighed.
    “You really want to keep watching that?” he asked when a shot they’d seen before flashed on the screen again.
    “I guess not.” She flicked off the television, then switched her attention to Wyatt, studying his face for signs that he was in