Fatal Truth: Shadow Force International (13 page)

“You seem to know a lot about this sort of thing.”

“I know that the men and women who do assassination work for the president of the United States are ghosts. They don’t get caught unless…”

“Unless what?”

He fiddled with the first aid kit Beatrice had given him even though the antibiotic cream and gauze were right in front of him. “Nothing.”

“Assassins for the president. Who are these people? CIA? NSA?”

Me
. “Neither. They are their own group.”

“But the president isn’t allowed to have a private group of assassins.”

Trace didn’t respond, wiping her wound with a fresh dose of alcohol.

She grit her teeth, but sat quietly while he finished cleaning her neck. Her wound would heal for sure, but she was still in a heap of trouble. That wasn’t going away.

Unless he disposed of the trouble.

“What’s up with this Westmeyer investigation?” he asked.

She unclenched her teeth, rubbed the back of her neck. “Westmeyer is a pharmaceutical company in California run by Harold Lee, who is also head of PelCon, a super PAC. Westmeyer’s subsidiaries have spent over half a million this year alone lobbying the Senate and the House. I learned through a source that Lee and his wife are about to be investigated by the Justice Department and Security Exchange Commission for various activities, all leading back to campaign contributions.”

Unscrewing the lid, Trace put antibiotic cream on a square of gauze and swabbed Savanna’s cut. “Linc Norman doesn’t want you to expose such a huge campaign contributor.”

“He told me Monday when he came to the studio to leave the Westmeyer investigation alone.”

“Maybe you should.”

She held perfectly still under his ministrations, yet, he could feel a wild adrenaline coursing through her body, making her tremble. An accident could do that. An attempt on your life, even if it wasn’t fatal, could rock you to your core.

“Thing is, I smell a bigger story behind all of this,” she said. “During my investigation, I came across an email suggesting Westmeyer supplies certain test drugs to the military. I think this story goes a lot deeper than campaign contributions.”

Trace forced himself not to tense. “Test drugs? To soldiers?”

“Yeah, but I have nothing solid about that at this point. It’s just a theory. I don’t know what kind of drugs or who’s receiving them. That angle is a dead end at the moment.”

He relaxed again. The military had done some experimenting on him and the test drugs were still in his veins even after all of this time. But that program had been shut down.

Or at least that’s what he’d been told. Like Command & Control, you never really knew what was the truth and what was a lie.

“Do all the Rock Star bodyguards have first aid training?” Savanna asked, reaching for a safer topic.

“Yes, but mine isn’t from the Rock Stars. Got mine courtesy of the Navy.”

His admission seemed to shock her. She pulled away from his hand and turned her face toward his. “A sailor, huh? Are you allowed to tell me that?”

The admission shocked him too. “I’ll probably have to kill you now.”

She grinned and his lower half tightened at the sight of those lips parting over her straight, white teeth.

“No killing allowed.” Beatrice swept in, a blueberry smoothie in hand. Maggie, her dog, wagged her tail at Trace. “At least not at the office.”

Trace eyed the smoothie. Maybe Reese had been telling the truth about why he was in the vicinity of the accident.

“My cleaner is already at work on your coat,” Beatrice told Savanna. “They can get anything out, including blood and vomit.”

Savanna flinched and turned to Trace, “I’m so sorry about your shoes.”

He glanced down at his sock-clad feet. She’d tried to miss the expensive loafers he’d been wearing, but her violent retching had known no bounds.

“I didn’t like them anyway.” He looked up at Beatrice. “They pinched my toes. I want boots.”

“Fine. We’ll get you some boots. You’ve earned them.” She handed him a file. “The information you requested.”

Trace led Savanna to the desk as Beatrice took a seat. The two of them plunked down in the chairs across from her. Trace set the file on the desktop and flipped it open.

“It’s probably not a complete list,” Beatrice said, “but it’s the best I can do. By the way, Lieutenant Franklin from DC Metro will be here shortly to take your statements about the accident. I also contacted your producer at the studio, Ms. Jeffries, to let her know you’re here. She’d like to speak to you as soon as you’re up for it about tonight’s show.”

“You spoke to Mariah?” Savanna asked.

“I thought it prudent to let her know where you were and that you were being taken care of medically. She was relieved.”

“Let me guess, she was worried about my face.”

Beatrice graced her with a quick smile. “You’re a TV star. Your face is an asset.”

Boy, was it. Everything about her was an asset.

Not that he cared. Trace shuffled the papers in front of him. Nine identities on record. Probably more, like Beatrice had mentioned, that no one knew about.

He handed the top sheet to Savanna. “You wanted proof your sister is a spy?”

Accepting the paper, her eyes skimmed the contents. “Megan Spencer, Anna Spence, Michelle Carter, Anna Carter…” She looked up. “These were her undercover names?”

Beatrice nodded. “The ones I could get hold of.”

Savanna sat back and chuckled. “Funny.”

“What is?” Trace asked.

“Those names, Megan, Spencer, Anna, Michelle, Carter. They’re names of her favorite handbags.”

Handbags?

At his look of confusion, she handed back the paper. “Her favorite handbag designer is Macabie. They give each design a woman’s name. Those names are the names of Parker’s favorite Macabie bags.”

Trace knew the names of every type of handgun, automatic weapon, and knife in use by the armed forces, but names of purses? No clue. “Were any of these used recently?”

Beatrice wiped the moisture from her smoothie cup. “Not that I’ve been able to track.”

Damn. That would have been too easy but sure would have made his world better. “Who’s her handler?”

“I’m working on that,” Beatrice said. From the steady look she gave him, he assumed she had an idea but wasn’t ready to share it with Savanna.

“What’s our next step?” Savanna asked.

Trace closed the file. “Is there anywhere Parker would go to if she were in trouble? Any place from your past? A person she might contact for help?”

“You believe a highly-trained operative like Parker would contact a person from her past or go back to a childhood home?” Beatrice asked, her voice slightly incredulous.

Trace had done his homework on her, Reese, and Petit. She wasn’t the only one with sources. “Who did you turn to when Rory Tephra came after you? Who did your husband ask for help in protecting you?”

’Nuff said. She’d gone straight to her husband, estranged at that time, and together they’d gone to Petit. Family and friends.

Beatrice fell silent but a hardness slipped into her eyes before she switched her gaze to Savanna. “Can you think of anyone Parker might turn to? Old friends from high school? University?”

Savanna thought for a moment. “She had lots of friends in high school and college. She was in sports, on the debate team, in the science club, you name it. I couldn’t keep up with all of her extra-curriculars, and I never figured out how she did all of that and still graduated valedictorian of her class.”

“She wasn’t actually involved in all of those activities,” Beatrice said, snagging the corner of a paper inside the file and teasing it out to lay it on top of the folder. “They were cover for her internship with the CIA.”

“What?” Savanna leaned forward to examine the paper. Her gaze scanned quickly and her mouth hung open. “I don’t believe this. How did she keep all of this from me?
Why
did she?”

“She had to,” Trace said, feeling slightly sorry for her. It had to suck to know your closest friend and confident, a person who shared your very DNA, had deceived you so expertly. “The CIA requires spies to keep their true job a secret.”

“I know that, but…” She closed her eyes and sighed. “She was living a whole separate life none of us knew about.”

“It’s normal to feel betrayed,” Beatrice said and Savanna opened her eyes again.

“Betrayed? I’m amazed. Yeah, I wish she would have at least told me she was working for the CIA back then, but I’m pretty damned impressed she could keep that from me. I knew she was a hell of a sister, but now I know she’s one hell of a woman, period.”

Trace felt the corner of his mouth lift. Parker wasn’t the only one. “The men and women who work for intelligence, no matter what agency, are remarkable individuals.”

The phone on Beatrice’s desk buzzed. She hit the speaker button. “Yes, Connor?”

“Lieutenant Franklin is here to see Ms. Jeffries.”

“Ah, good. Send him in.” Beatrice rose. “Coldplay and I will step out and let you speak to Franklin.”

Dark blue eyes snapped to his. “Doesn’t the officer need to speak to him too?”

“Yes, he’ll interview Coldplay separately. For privacy reasons.”

The door opened and the receptionist, Connor, motioned a man in a uniform to step through.

“Lieutenant,” Beatrice said, crossing the room to shake his hand. “Thank you for agreeing to do the interview here.”

Trace started to stand. Savanna grabbed his hand.
Don’t leave me
, her eyes said.

Savanna didn’t want him to leave. Beatrice, now introducing the cop to both of them, was grabbing Trace’s sleeve and pulling him away. “Ms. Jeffries’ bodyguard and I will step out for a moment.”

Trace, hating himself, gave Savanna’s hand a squeeze before withdrawing his. He saw the fear in her eyes. Fear that even a cop couldn’t be trusted. “I’ll be right outside the door. You need anything, yell.”

Savanna’s throat contracted and then she nodded.

Beatrice grabbed the folder and her smoothie, leading the way to the still-open door. Maggie followed. Trace did as well, glancing back over his shoulder at Savanna whose eyes were on him instead of the officer asking her questions.

She was right to be paranoid after what had happened. He didn’t trust anyone either, even though he knew that Beatrice had no doubt handpicked the cop now sitting in the chair Trace had just vacated.

Beatrice wouldn’t allow just anyone into SFI headquarters. Still, Trace stepped into the hallway but left the door cracked open so he could hear what was going on inside.

“I need to speak to you in private,” Beatrice said, tilting her head to a conference room across the way.

“I’m staying here.”

One brow raised but she didn’t argue. From her pants pocket she withdrew her cell phone, punched in a code. “This came across my desk earlier this afternoon.”

The screen showed a grainy black and white photograph of a woman, her face turned away from the camera and her whole body slightly out of focus as if she were walking fast when the photo was snapped. “Who is it?”

“Look closely at her surroundings.”

Trace felt his insides grow cold. Even though the photo was shitty, he knew those bars, that concrete floor. “Shit.”

Beatrice lowered her voice and motioned for him to move a couple steps farther away from the open door. “Facial recognition says it’s Parker Jeffries. There is no record of her signing in, yet, as you can make out in the picture, she’s wearing an official prison visitor’s badge.”

“When was that picture taken?”

“The day you escaped.”

“So she was still alive. What the hell was she doing there?”

“You tell me.”

“I have no idea.”

Beatrice tucked the phone away. “Obviously, she went to visit someone.”

Trace hated feeling like he was one step behind Beatrice all the time, but damn it, either he was missing something or she was thinking something completely ludicrous. “You think she came to see me.”

The brow climbed again. “You sound surprised.”

“I don’t know her and never met her. Why would she come see me? To apologize for giving Savanna a bullshit story to run that sent me to prison?”

“She’s been screwed over by the president and she’s most likely figured out you were too.”

“And what could I possibly do for her while I was incarcerated?”

“Share your secret? Maybe it’s the same one she’s keeping.”

Trace rocked back on his heels. “Not possible.”

“Well, she’s looking for you and you’re looking for her. I’ve put out a feeler to the contact Savanna used to find us. He’s been off the books for a long, long time. If I hear anything back, you’ll be the first to know, but don’t hold your breath. Your best bet is to get in touch with Parker. Make it easy for her to find you. Then the two of you can wrap this up—whatever
this
is—with Linc Norman.”

He couldn’t believe she thought it would be so easy. “Parker and I are both in hiding. It’s not like I can call her up and invite her out for coffee.”