Читать книгу Don't Say a Word - Rita Herron - Страница 12

IT TOOK DAMON ANOTHER week to get in touch with Dr. Pace, a week of anxious hell for Antwaun and the family.

“Dr. Pace, thank you for agreeing to see me on such short notice.” Damon settled into the leather wing chair across the plastic surgeon’s desk. Although Pace consulted and sometimes took on patients not associated with government projects, many were of a confidential nature. He also worked with universities on the latest research techniques involving plastic surgery and had assisted in cutting-edge work with facial reconstruction on severely injured patients, including infants with birth defects.

“Yes, well, we do have a history, Special Agent Dubois.” Pace stared at him over his reading glasses. “So, to what do I owe this visit? Your team have another problem you want me to take care of?”

Damon swallowed at the reminder of his secret military missions. The E-team, the Erasers, had been a special-ops elite squad, carefully chosen for their individual skills. Damon, a tactical leader as well as an explosives expert; Max Levine, helicopter pilot and computer genius; Calvin Norris, sniper and search-and-rescue leader; and Lex Van Wormer, security specialist.

If there was any problem the government wanted taken care of, sanctioned or not, the E-team was called in to erase it. No one was to know of their existence. Even Pace didn’t know the details of their work. And no member would ever tell.

Tell and you die.

“I’m with the bureau now,” Damon responded.

Pace nodded, a small grin splitting his face. “Yes, that’s right. FBI.”

Damon almost laughed. Pace didn’t believe him. The team was tight-knit and was virtually impossible to escape. But when he’d left, the three guys on the original E-team had formed a private business after they’d left the military, conducting government missions as well as taking on private cases. Max had said some of the new members were even needlessly violent, and had asked about his defection.

Damon had opted out and left, although the others hadn’t liked it one damn bit.

“I need to know any information you may have on a man named Karl Swafford.” Damon watched Pace for signs of recognition. But not so much as a blink of an eye or a twitch. Of course, the man was trained in scrutinizing body gestures and hiding them as well.

“I’ve heard of him, as most of the people in New Orleans have.”

Damon grunted. “I have reason to believe that he faked his death and disappeared. And that you helped him.”

Pace’s eyebrow arched upward. “And where did you get this information?”

“Let’s just say that the death of a certain reporter brought it to light.”

“You mean Kendra Yates, the woman your brother is accused of murdering.”

“Antwaun is innocent,” Damon said. “And I need your help, Reginald. If Swafford is alive, he may have killed Miss Yates. I also think he has someone on the inside who helped frame my brother for her death.”

“Interesting theory. I wish I could help you, but I can’t.”

“Did Kendra Yates question you about Swafford?”

“No. And I did not perform plastic surgery on him either.”

Damon silently cursed, then withdrew the photo of Kendra and placed it on the desk. “Look at this carefully, Reginald. Are you sure this woman didn’t approach you? She might have worn a disguise.”

Dr. Pace made a token show of examining the photo, then exhaled and leaned back nonchalantly. “No, I’ve never seen her before in my life.”

Damon understood the reason for Dr. Pace’s secrecy. His silence protected not only himself, but the members of the E-team, government VIPs, witnesses in the WITSEC program and current patients. Hell, his secrecy had kept Damon alive.

But the tiny tremor in the doctor’s eyelid gave him away this time. He had seen Kendra Yates, but he didn’t want to admit to it.

Possibilities floated through Damon’s head. What if Kendra had threatened to write about Dr. Pace in the paper?

Perhaps he’d panicked and killed her. Or he might have reported her snooping to the military or another fed who’d decided she needed to be diposed of.

His gut tightened. What if the insider who’d killed her and set up Antwaun wasn’t with the local police department but was one of his coworkers at the agency?

CRYSTAL FELT AS IF she were crawling out of her skin. She had to get out of the room.

The sidewalk was dimly lit, the woods creating shadowy nooks that offered privacy. Surely the garden would be empty, and she wouldn’t have to worry about being seen or the pitying gossip.