Chapter Fourteen #2
Or there were a dozen other plausible explanations. None of which Brantley wanted to think about. At the moment, they were running on blind faith that she was alive. Until he had some sort of proof, he had to stick to the facts.
“If he does, we’ll find her,” Reese said.
Brantley heard the doubt in his husband’s tone.
“Let me do some diggin’ and I’ll get you what I can,” she replied. “When Baz gets back, I’ll have him call you with an update on Weaver.”
“Thanks, JJ,” Reese said.
“Yup.”
The call disconnected.
Brantley glanced down at the speedometer, realizing he was doing nearly twenty over the speed limit. He lifted his foot off the gas pedal, dropping back down.
“We’re gonna figure this out,” Reese said. “Let’s deal with the information we have first. We’ll proceed from there.”
Brantley nodded. “Call Archer and Atticus. Give them an update. They’re the ones leadin’ this shit show.”
Reese’s warm hand landed on his arm. “We’re gonna figure it out.”
“I fuckin’ hope so.”
Baz walked into the private office of Dr. Timothy Weaver.
He’d already been through the emergency department in search of the man, but was told he wasn’t on duty for another hour. According to one of the helpful nurses, Dr. Weaver was handling a few calls in his office.
And sure enough, the doctor was sitting behind a big mahogany desk, glasses perched on the tip of his nose while he stared at his computer screen.
“Dr. Weaver?”
The man looked up, eyes wary. “Yes?”
“My name’s Sebastian Buchanan. I work for Sniper 1 Security. We’re lookin’ into a case and your name came up.”
His salt and pepper eyebrows dipped low as he pulled his glasses off his face. “I’m not sure I can help you. Doctor/patient confidentiality and all that.”
“Oh, I’m pretty sure that doesn’t apply in this case.”
Since the good doctor didn’t suggest he take a seat, Baz took it upon himself to get comfortable, a move that clearly made Dr. Weaver nervous.
“A little over a year and a half ago, a woman was brought in after she was struck by a car. According to what you told the family, you did everything you could, but you could not save her.”
That got his attention, but it only added more worry lines to his brow.
“Kylie Walker.” Baz paused, waiting to see if Dr. Weaver would recognize the name.
He did.
Yeah, he definitely did, but he attempted to hide his initial reaction with a frown. “I’m sorry. That was quite some time ago. I don’t recall.”
“Oh, come on now, Doc. I can tell by those deep grooves”—Baz rubbed his forehead for emphasis—“that you know exactly who I’m talking about.”
The doctor smoothed his expression. Or tried to. “No, I’m sorry, I really don’t.”
“Well, let me see if this helps.” Baz leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and pinning the doctor with a cold stare.
“On January 9, 2021, the same day you pronounced Kylie Walker dead, you received a hefty chunk of change into your bank account.” He cocked an eyebrow. “Does that ring any bells for you?”
Dr. Weaver had the good sense not to comment.
“Yeah. I thought it might.” Baz took a deep breath, reined in his anger.
“See, here’s the thing. Kylie Walker’s husbands—she has two, that wasn’t a blunder on my part—and her five kids …
well, see, they miss her. And we came across some information that leads us to believe she’s not in that coffin in the ground like we originally thought. ”
That hint of worry turned into a full-blown case of fear. Dr. Weaver’s eyes widened, and his mouth opened, but no words came out.
Baz sat up straight. “I take it you know something.”
Dr. Weaver shook his head adamantly. “No. No, I don’t.” He pushed his chair back and shot to his feet. “I’ve got rounds. You really need to leave now.”
Baz slowly stood up, looked at the door. “Rounds? Oh, okay, sure. Let’s go make rounds. I can follow you while you work. We can continue our conversation.”
A sheen of perspiration broke out on his forehead, and the doctor was talking fast when he said, “You can’t. That’s not allowed. I don’t know anything. I don’t even remember who you’re talking about. That was so long ago.”
Baz smirked, waiting for the doctor to run out of excuses.
“And I never got a deposit of five hundred thousand.”
Holding up a finger, Baz cocked his head. “See, I never said how much that deposit was for.”
“Yes, you did. You said a hefty chunk of change. Five hundred thousand.”
“No. I purposely left that part out.”
Dr. Weaver moved toward the door, but Baz intercepted, blocking him before he could make his escape.
“I have rounds,” the doctor repeated.
“As long as you don’t mind having a shadow because I’m not leaving until you tell me what I need to know.”
“I don’t know anything.”
Baz stared into his eyes. His pupils were dilated, and a single drop of sweat started to trickle down his left temple slowly. He would bet good money that the man’s heart was racing and his palms were sweating.
“What was the money for, Dr. Weaver?”
“I don’t know about any money,” he said, his voice trembling.
Baz took a step back. “Is that your final answer?”
Dr. Weaver looked relieved when he said, “Yes.”
Nodding, Baz turned toward the door. “When you’re ready to talk, come find me. I’ll be talking to the nursing staff and the hospital’s administration. I’m sure someone can tell me what that deposit was for.”
He took one step forward before Dr. Weaver barked, “Wait!”
Baz slowly turned around to see the man wiping his forehead. “Look. I was sworn to secrecy, so there’s not much I can tell you.”
“Sworn to secrecy? By who?”
“The federal government. The person you’re talking about was a federal witness who was taken into custody.”
Son of a bitch.
Baz tried to keep his heart from galloping out of his chest, but it wasn’t easy. “Why?”
“The FBI didn’t say. They just told me that it was pertinent that she died that day. They were setting her up with a new identity. I don’t know what it is.”
“You’re telling me that Kylie Walker did not die that day?”
“I’m telling you that the FBI told me I couldn’t talk about it.”
“What proof do you have?”
Dr. Weaver’s eyebrows slammed down. “What proof? There is no proof. When someone goes into witness protection, they do what’s necessary to keep it under wraps. No paperwork.”
Baz snorted. “Are you saying you falsified a death certificate on good faith that they were telling you the truth?”
“I had to.”
“And you didn’t find it strange that the federal government was willing to pay you five hundred thousand dollars for your cooperation?”
“They said it was the normal fee.”
Oh, Jesus Christ. Surely this guy wasn’t as stupid as he pretended to be.
“Who did you work with at the FBI?”
Dr. Weaver turned back to his desk. “I don’t remember. But I’ve got his card.”
Baz waited while the doctor shuffled through papers in one of his desk drawers. A minute later, he produced a card, passed it over.
Yep. That would be the guy.
Fuck.
Gesturing toward the office, Baz urged Dr. Weaver backward. “I’ve got a few more questions, and you’d better have some damn good answers.”
On his way out of the hospital half an hour later, Baz called JJ.
“Tell me you found something,” she said, sounding chipper.
“I definitely did.”
“Did Dr. Weaver cop to bein’ paid off?”
“He did. Said he was given instructions to stage her death because she was a federal witness going into witness protection.”
“Holy shit. What do we do now?”
“Well, I think you should call Brantley and give him a heads-up. Since we’ve got some time before we can see the babies, I’m gonna run over to the funeral home.”
“I’ll do some diggin’ real quick. See what I can find. They would’ve gotten a payoff, too, huh?”
“I can’t imagine they could’ve gone through the process without realizing they didn’t have a body.”
“What if they did? Have a body, I mean.”
Baz frowned, pausing at the door. “You think they sent one in her place?”
“It makes sense, right? They’d have someone to bury so they wouldn’t ask questions.”
He shook his head, pushing the door open. “And what? They just convinced the family not to have an open casket? No, I think they were in on it.”
“You’re probably right. Let me work on it. I’ll let you know. Love you.”
“I love you, too.”