CARRIE'S PROTECTOR by REBECCA YORK Page B

murmured.
    “You do, too,” he answered, eyeing her conservative yet flattering outfit.
    He paid for the luggage, and they went back to the car. After stowing the department-store bags in the one of the suitcases, they headed back the way they’d come the day before, taking the same route to the Beltway and then to Wisconsin Avenue.
    “We should plan how we’re going to represent ourselves to various people,” Wyatt said.
    “Okay. How do you want to play it?”
    “I think that if anyone else is with Rita—or asks how we know Aaron—we say we’re friends from the country club.”
    “Which club?”
    He named a well-known club off of Connecticut Avenue in Chevy Chase.
    “What if people who really knew him there are around?”
    “Unlikely. They kicked him out six months ago when he couldn’t pay the membership fees.”
    “And you know all that how?”
    “I researched him on the web after you went to sleep. Then I did some more poking around in the morning.”
    “What else did you find out?”
    “That his credit cards were maxed out. I also know that his wife has a trust fund from her family. She used it to buy her apartment.”
    “So she wasn’t dependent on her husband.”
    “Right. Which is lucky for her.”
    “Describe her to me, so I don’t start talking to another guest like she’s the widow.”
    “She’s a good-looking blonde woman in her late thirties. Her hair is in a short pageboy. Her makeup is always impeccable. She’s the kind who takes good care of herself and wouldn’t allow an ounce of extra fat to spoil the look of her size-four figure.”
    “It sounds like you don’t approve of slender women.”
    He gave her a quick look, then glanced back at the road. “I don’t like this obsession in our society with trying to look model thin.”
    “There are a lot of people who are overweight.”
    “Yeah. A weird contrast.”
    They drove in silence for another few minutes before Wyatt cleared his throat.
    “Yes?” she asked.
    “About our cover story... Maybe we should pretend to be a married couple.”
    After he dropped the comment, silence hung between them for a few seconds. Carrie could imagine he hadn’t liked making the suggestion, and she couldn’t stop herself from needling him.
    “Why, exactly?”
    “Because that’s the easiest explanation of why we’re showing up together. Do you have a better idea?”
    “We both worked downtown with him.”
    “Rita probably met the office staff,” he shot back.
    “Right. I guess we have to use the country-club story—and false names, too.”
    “Since I’m already Will Hanks,” he said, using the alias he’d used at the rental-car place and the motel, “you can be Carolyn Hanks.”
    “You came up with that fast. Were you already thinking about my name?”
    He nodded.
    “Carolyn Hanks and Will Hanks,” she said, trying out the names. “If we get a chance to talk to Rita, maybe I should be the one who starts the conversation.”
    “Why?”
    “Because it will be woman to woman, and she may say things to me that she wouldn’t say to you.”
    He thought for a moment. “Okay, that makes sense, but maybe we need to have a legend planned so we don’t get caught in any traps.”
    “What’s a legend?”
    “A spy’s cover story. What if you lost your first husband a few years ago, and you have some idea of how she feels.”
    “We’re getting into an elaborate scenario, don’t you think?”
    “We need to be prepared.”
    “Then what did you do with Aaron at the country club? Golf? Tennis? Do we know what he did there?”
    He made a dismissive sound. “I can’t fake my way through golf or tennis. Let’s say we met in the weight room.”
    “Okay,” she answered, remembering that Wyatt had been a faithful user of the weights at the safe house. The memory stopped her for a moment. Living with him and using the weight room had been part of her routine for a week. Now that seemed like another life. In fact, her whole world had