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Timothy Desmond
Category:
Action/Thriller
Publisher: Black Opal Books
ISBN-10: 1626941440
Type: Fiction
Pages: 330
Copyright: June 9, 2014
ISBN-13: 9781626941441
Price: $2.99 (eBook)
Friend and doctor Hank Houston seeks answers for Matt Sweet about his daughter's situation. Dana Sweet was a grad student in Virgina and worked in Washington for the Federal Accounting Office.
When a dying friend and fellow Civil War reenactor asks California physician Hank Houston to find his daughter’s killer, Hank has no idea what problems his snooping will cause. The last thing he expected to uncover was a US murder squad being run by the DHS. But this domestic black ops unit is determined not to be exposed and, as Hank gets closer to the truth, he discovers just how far they will go to hide all their dirty little secrets.
Excerpt
Hank just wouldn’t seem to die—so this time they were going to make sure…
The hospital hallway was quiet, with the exception of the echo of a patient chart being tossed on a desk and crash cart draws being opened and closed. A night nurse checked the current supplies. The cop at the doorway watched as a well-dressed man approach Hank’s room.
“I’m Doctor Terry Graf. I’d like to check on Henry Houston."
The cop motioned for him to go into the room.
Hank had just closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep again. He remained asleep as Terry entered the room and removed a syringe from his pocket. The sterile snap of breaking plastic did not disturb Hank, as Terry prepared to inject him. He and Hank had been friends at one time, but this was a necessity. Hank had to go. There could be no loose ends.
This method was so clean. Hank’s nervous system would just go out and, with that, everything would shut down. There would be no pain, just total lights out, like a switch.
Terry kept the syringe pointed up, but hidden from the door, as he picked up Hank’s IV line. He followed the line looking for the piggy-back injection site. But he did not find it. The line led back to a pump on a stand.
He looked at the top of Hank’s hand. Damn. I could inject into the line. No, the pressure
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