Hideaway At Hawk's Landing. Rita Herron
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Mila Manchester was a plastic surgeon—but she could have passed for a model. Well, maybe not a model. She wasn’t rail thin or gaunt-looking or covered in layers of makeup.
Instead she was naturally beautiful. Huge dark eyes stood out against ivory skin and pale pink lips. Her hair was a fiery dark color with streaks of red.
There was also a softness about her that made her look wholesome.
He jerked his eyes back to the road. He couldn’t get distracted by her good looks. Sometimes the lookers were shallow beneath.
Charlotte twisted her hands together. “I was born with a port-wine birthmark,” Charlotte said. “No one wanted to adopt me because of it. Dr. Manchester, Mila’s mother, did volunteer work and removed it for me at no cost.” She paused, her voice warbling. “I met Mila the day before the surgery. She was about my age but wasn’t turned off by the way I looked. I guess she’d seen worse at her mother’s practice.”
“Her mother sounds like a saint.”
“She was,” Charlotte said. “I owe so much to her. And Mila. She visited me every day at the clinic while I healed. She told me she wanted to be like her mother.”
Her story was getting to Brayden. “And you think she is?”
Charlotte nodded. “I’ve read about her work. She’s generous and caring and volunteers with Doctors Without Borders... There’s no way she’d help the Shetland operation hurt innocent girls.”
Brayden hoped she was right. Lucas’s wife had been through enough without learning that her friend was a criminal.
They lapsed into silence until they reached Austin and the field office. As they parked and walked in, Charlotte grew more jittery.
Lucas was probably going to kill him for bringing her.
But her description of the doctor had piqued his curiosity.
Harrison met them at the front door.
“Lucas is about to question her,” Harrison said.
“I’d like to observe,” Brayden said.
Harrison frowned but glanced at Charlotte and seemed to realize Brayden was trying to appease Lucas’s wife. He ushered them through security, then to a room with a viewing screen to watch the interrogation.
Brayden’s gut tightened as Lucas appeared, his hand on Dr. Manchester’s arm.
Damn. Even with her long dark hair tangled and escaping a haphazard ponytail, her clothes disheveled, and her face pale and exhausted-looking, she was stunning.
She heaved a weary breath and looked up at the camera in the corner as if she knew it was there. But she didn’t make a move to fix her hair or put on pretenses.
Instead her big brown eyes were haunted and filled with fear.
Fear that made him want to find out the truth about what had happened today. Was she helping the Shetland operation?
Mila fought tears, but they streamed down her face as Special Agent Lucas Hawk escorted her into an interrogation room.
He’d been careful to explain where they were and that she was in federal custody.
She didn’t know what to do. Didn’t know if Izzy and Roberta were dead or alive.
Pain mingled with panic at the thought.
If she talked, those terrible men would hurt Izzy.
Agent Hawk placed a bottle of water on the hard surface of the table in the room. She’d seen enough crime shows to know that she was being watched. That they’d record whatever she said. That they’d get her prints from the water bottle.
Sweat beaded on her upper lip and forehead, trickling into her hair.
It had been hours since she’d eaten or drunk anything. Hours since those men had broken in and threatened her. Hours since she’d started the surgeries that would enable that monster to escape.
Agent Hawk was watching her with steely eyes. Another agent named Hoover stood by the door, his arms folded, expression condescending as if he’d already tried and convicted her.
Agent Hawk’s boots clicked on the hard floor as he crossed the room. He narrowed his eyes at her as if dissecting her, then removed a key from his pocket and uncuffed her hands.
She breathed out, grateful to be free of the heavy metal on her wrists so she could reach the water. Feeling dehydrated, she turned up the bottle and drank half of it in one long gulp.
Water trickled down her chin, and she wiped at it, then glanced at her fingers. Even though she’d worn gloves during the surgery, the stench of the ugly man’s blood lingered.
“Dr. Manchester,” Agent Hawk began. “You know the reason you’re here?”
She nodded, then looked up at him, but she couldn’t stand the accusations in his eyes, so she jerked her gaze back to her hands.
He slapped a photograph of Arman DiSanti onto the table. “You performed plastic surgery on this man today at your clinic?”
She chewed her bottom lip. He knew that or he wouldn’t have arrested her.
“Answer me,” he said, his tone cold.
She gave a slight nod. What good would a lie do when he’d practically caught her red-handed?
“Arman DiSanti is the man we suspect to be the ringleader of a human trafficking ring called the Shetland operation,” Agent Hawk said bluntly. “This group has abducted dozens of teenage girls in Texas this past year.”
She willed herself not to react. But Izzy’s sweet face crying as that man snatched her taunted her. Where was her little girl now?
The agent paced in front of her, then spread several pictures on the table. “These are photographs of some of the teens abducted this year. At least these are the ones we rescued.” He named each girl, then pinned her with an accusatory look as if she was responsible. “No telling how many more victims he’s had kidnapped.”
She swallowed back bile. She knew what a horrid man he was. That was the reason she’d taken Izzy from her mother to raise her.
The agent laid another photo on the table then another and another. The first one showed a dark building with a cage in it. Blood dotted the floor.
Another photo revealed pictures of chains attached to a pole. Then another yielded a close-up of the words Help us crudely etched into the wall.
“He chained them to the wall and locked them in a cage like they were animals.” The next picture showed two young teens dressed skimpily as they stood in front of what appeared to be a camera. Both girls were glassy-eyed, drugged.
“Then he sells them at an auction like they’re cattle. That’s where he got the name Shetland for his operation.” He tapped DiSanti’s photograph. “This is the man you helped escape the law today, Dr. Manchester.” He slapped one more picture on the table, this one of a dead girl, her skeletal figure decaying.
Mila bit back a gasp.
“This is a girl named Louise Summerton. She was murdered when she tried to escape the man who bought her.”
Nausea welled in Mila’s stomach.
She fought it, but her stomach heaved. Panicked, she covered her mouth, her chest convulsing. The agent at the door must have realized she was going to throw up because he grabbed a trash can and shoved it in front of her.
Emotions overcame her, and tears rained down her face as she retched into the trash can.
* * *
BRAYDEN