Body of Evidence (Evidence Series) Read Free Page A

before her had charged her uncle with using his influence as vice president to get the US government to award numerous contracts to Raptor, only to receive a payoff when he took a job with the mercenary organization a few months after leaving office.
    Uncle Andrew had warned her that Curt Dominick would one day come calling and ask about the work Raptor did for JPAC, and the US attorney would twist her words if she wasn’t careful. But he had also said Curt Dominick had more ambition than human decency, yet the man had shielded her from the firing squad. That exceeded human decency and made him on the verge of godlike in her estimation.
    Pressure built in her chest, and she rose from the plush seat. Curt didn’t budge from his position in the aisle, trapping her between the table and chair. “Excuse me,” she said.
    He was tall, six feet at least, and intimidating with his probing gaze.
    She squared her shoulders. “I need to walk. Even a plane aisle is better than my six-by-six cell.”
    He stepped back and swept an arm out.
    The jet smelled of forced air and wealth. The deluxe interior struck her as ridiculous after two months inside a dark, concrete box. The oil painting on the bulkhead appeared to be a signed original—and she was fairly certain she’d seen the artist’s work featured in a DC gallery a few years ago. “This isn’t a government jet,” she said.
    “No. It was donated by a billionaire who was anxious to be associated with your rescue.”
    She cringed. She was certain the media attention had made her efforts to convince the North Koreans she wasn’t important that much harder. They’d wanted no one less than the secretary of state or sitting vice president as envoy. She really shouldn’t have been shocked Curt Dominick had been chosen. After all, in a moment of desperation, she’d tossed out his name. It would forever be her dirty little secret that she’d chuckled at the idea of him being distracted from prosecuting her uncle.
    But never, not once, had it occurred to her the man would actually be selected. He wasn’t a cabinet member or a heavily tattooed and pierced former basketball player, so what did he have to offer? She could only assume the fact that he was prosecuting her uncle had been a delicious irony to the dictator.
    “Start talking, Mara. We need to know what happened the day you were arrested.”
    She needed a minute. She didn’t want to think about that day, let alone talk about it. But the State Department did need answers.
    She turned to face him, then wished she hadn’t. His closed expression was an unwelcome change from the man who’d removed her blindfold in the courtyard. Her guard went up, and she looked away before answering. “On the last morning, I found unexploded ordnance not far from the remains of the pilot of an F-86 Sabre.”
    “A bomb. Is that unusual?”
    She shrugged, aiming for nonchalant. “We dig in combat-plane wrecks. It happens.” Anxious and wondering how much she should reveal, she turned and strode down the aisle to the galley, where she opened cabinets, making a show of looking for something to eat, even though nausea threatened with every bump of the aircraft. “Our ordnance-disposal expert—Evan Beck—ordered the site cleared so he could defuse it.” She raised her voice to be heard over the omnipresent whine of the aircraft. “We argued, because his plan wasn’t standard protocol.”
    She stretched on tiptoes and reached for a box of crackers she didn’t want. Without warning, his hand appeared next to hers and snatched the box from the high shelf. She leaned into the sharp edge of the counter to widen the distance between them.
    “What is standard protocol?” His voice was low, harmonic with the hum of the jet but audible because he stood uncomfortably close.
    “In North Korea? The team stuck together. Always.”
    “That had to be awkward after you and Evan broke up.”
    She stiffened, rattled that he knew about her