Backblast by Candace Irving (brene brown rising strong .TXT) 📗

Her gut—and her quick googling of the woman while she and John had been waiting on the printer—had assured her that Mrs. Chaudhry was the key. Not only did the chief justice value his wife enough to bring her along and offer her the choice, center seat, ironically Mrs. Chaudhry was a practicing surgical nurse at the Shifa, of all hospitals. And, like her husband, the woman also spoke English.

If anyone would be able to study the evidence she'd printed and quickly zero in on the truth, it would be Sitara Chaudhry.

Despite that excellent grasp of English however, John had felt it best that, out of respect, he offer his statement to the Chaudhrys in their native tongue.

Regan had agreed. "Major?"

On cue, John departed the head of the table and moved down to her side. He took the seat to the right of her and waited.

"Chief Justice, Begum Chaudhry, I would like you to meet Major John Garrison, US Army Special Forces. Major Garrison led the mission into that cave where your daughter died. With your permission, I would like the major to begin with his account of what he and his men saw and did upon their arrival, and afterward. Please, feel free to stop Major Garrison at any point with questions—or…just to stop him."

John waited for Chaudhry's revealing, questioning glance in his wife's direction and the man's subsequent nod, then began.

As with the hospital interview with Inaya, Regan didn't understand a word of John's stream of gravelly Urdu. She didn't need to. The entire translation was right there, in Mrs. Chaudhry's face. In the emotions that took hold in the woman's reddened eyes and in those gently quivering lips. When John reached his hoarse, halting description of the mutilated bodies he and his men had found in the cave, and of the infants that had been cut free and dumped on their breasts, the woman's eyes turned even redder and filled with glistening tears.

As had John's.

Regan reached out without thinking and slipped her hand into his lap beneath the table to squeeze the fist his left hand had unconsciously made. As much as her heart ached for the Chaudhrys, it ached just as much for John. Yes, he'd encountered death in countless ways in his career—but he'd never had to describe it to a loved one before.

Not like this.

Though John promptly turned his fingers so that they engulfed hers, he continued to stare straight ahead as he held on tight, swallowing hard as the tears began to fall from both Mr. and Mrs. Chaudhry's eyes…and his own.

John finished speaking, cleared his throat and waited.

Evidently he'd offered enough—or perhaps too much—because the chief justice shook his head slightly. There would be no questions of John.

At least not tonight.

Her turn then.

Regan waited for Sitara Chaudhry to gather herself, or as best the woman appeared able, then slipped her fingers from John's and stood. She opened her folder and removed the copies she'd printed of the evidence reports and lab results that hadn't been leaked to the Pakistani media because they exculpated McCord. She slid a binder-clipped packet in front of the Chaudhrys, another in front of the prime minister, and a third between the ambassador and her deputy chief of mission to share.

Regan kept the fourth for herself as she returned to her seat, removing her black binder clip so she could hold up each item as she went through them. "The first few pages have already been released to the media, so you may have already seen them. And it is true, Captain Mark McCord's blood was found inside the cave on a shawl that had been draped over one of the babies, as well as on two women—one of whom…was your daughter. But Captain McCord's blood was planted."

Regan held up the second round of labs that had proven it. "These are the results of the tests that were run on the captain's blood. If you'll note the sections I've highlighted in yellow, you can see that the lab determined that plasma proteins were missing from the blood evidence that was found on the two women and the shawl. The absence of such proteins indicates that a quantity of the captain's blood was frozen sometime before the murders, and then thawed out and placed inside the cave."

She held up the next several pages. "You can read a description of the blood-washing process here, as well as a statement that proves that the machine vital to the process was purchased by a hospital in Tehran, and that the doctor who committed the murders attended a training session there. It's during this session that we believe the captain's blood was frozen. The technician who held the training picked Dr. Nabil Durrani's photo out of a lineup. Also, you'll find a statement by Dr. Soraya Medhi describing how she spotted Dr. Durrani leaving the pharmacy at the Joint Theatre Hospital on Bagram Airbase in the middle of the night on the twelfth of October of this past year—during a false bomb threat. The same night, a pint of McCord's blood was stolen. The pint had been donated during a blood drive. There are additional supporting documents in your papers as well. Along with a transcript of the initial statement of an Afghan translator by the name of Tamir Hachemi, admitting that he assisted Dr. Durrani with the murders, and even obtained knives belonging to Captain McCord. The knives that were used to commit the murders and remove the babies from their mothers' wombs. I'm ready to answer any and all questions regarding the contents of your packets. Finally—" She turned to the second to last sheet. "—I've included Captain McCord's statement. He admits he was having an affair with one of the victims and that the child Begum Khan carried was his. We believe this is why Begum Khan was targeted by Durrani. To more effectively set up the captain for the murders."

"And this?" Mrs. Chaudhry's voice whispered across