Skin Deep

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AS SHE LEANED back in her seat, the van’s motion vibrated against the base of Laura Blackstone’s skull. She rocked her head, hoping it would soothe her tense muscles. It didn’t. Odors tickled her nose-the scents of hot electronics, clean gun oil, and leather uniforms. If someone blindfolded her and spun her around, she’d still know immediately that she was inside a SWAT-team van.

She couldn’t see outside the van, but she didn’t need to sightsee in Anacostia. With years of law enforcement under her belt, she knew all of Washington, D.C.’s neighborhoods well. The historic Anacostia had its share of crime and urban blight mixed in with bland strip malls and expensive homes.

This time, the neighborhood had a drug lab that the local SWAT team wanted taken down. Nothing unusual about that-it was what SWAT teams did. And since Captain Aaron Foyle needed specialized backup, he called someone he could rely on: Laura Blackstone. Actually, he called “Janice Crawford.” That was the persona Laura used when she worked with the local D.C. SWAT team.

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