Fatal Deception by Marie Force Page A

fraud—Medicare, Social Security, Medicaid. She’s been involved with one fraud after another and was finally put away for a long stretch about six years ago after the feds cracked a scheme in Ohio. She basically defrauded the government for a living.”
    “Wait,” Freddie said. “If our vic is Denise Desposito and she was put away for a long stretch six years ago, how is it possible that she was married and had a kid in that time?”
    “She didn’t,” Lindsey said. “Thirty-six-year-old Desposito was killed in a fight in prison a month after she was sent away.”
    Sam exhaled a long, deep breath. “What the hell?” She shook her head in disbelief. “So our victim isn’t Victoria Taft Kavanaugh, which explains why there was practically no sign of her online, and even though her prints match up with Denise Desposito, she’s not her either?”
    “That’s right,” Lindsey said.
    “Then who the hell is she?”

Chapter Seven
    “Everybody out,” Dr. Anderson said a few minutes later when he returned with another doctor.
    Sam and her team were still processing what Lindsey had told them.
    “Cruz,” Sam said, “go to Calahan Rice on K Street and find out everything you can about the woman who’d been known there as Victoria Taft. Gonzo, you and Arnold track down Felicity Rider, maid of honor in the Kavanaugh’s wedding.”
    “What can we do?” McBride asked.
    “You can get out so we can sew her up,” Anderson said.
    “See if you can track down a Victoria Taft from Defiance, Ohio,” Sam said, ignoring the doctor. “Parents are Greg and Betty.”
    “Got it,” McBride said, writing down the info.
    “I’ll be at HQ as soon as I’m done here. Meet me there.”
    “That’s it,” Anderson said, ushering the others from the cubicle. “Everyone out.”
    “My parents can stay,” Sam said, suddenly filled with anxiety as the plastic surgeon approached and introduced himself as Dr. Simsbury. As they prepped her for the procedure, she wished she’d allowed Nick to come after all. While Celia offered a comforting and steady presence, no one could take his place.
    “A quick pinch to numb you up,” Simsbury said when he came at her face with a freakishly long needle.
    It took every ounce of self-control Sam could muster not to scream or grab his arm to stop him—if she broke his arm in the process, that would be fine too. The “quick pinch” burned like a fucking bastard, sending tears spilling from her eyes.
    “You’re almost there, honey,” Celia said, squeezing Sam’s hand.
    “One more,” Simsbury said.
    This time Sam closed her eyes so she wouldn’t have to watch the needle come toward her. It burned no less the second time around. She broke into a cold sweat and forced air into her lungs by sheer will.
    “We’re going to give you something to calm you down, Sam,” Anderson said. “Your heart rate is through the roof.”
    Her eyes flew open. “No!” The medicine that would calm her would also ruin the rest of her day, and she couldn’t afford to be muzzy around the edges today. Plus, it would require more needles. “Give me the goddamn stitches and get me out of here.”
    “This is going to take a while,” Simsbury said. “You may as well get comfortable.”
    Sam wanted to take his head off. Did he really think she was going to get comfortable while he was sewing her face closed? But because the argument would take time she didn’t have, she bit her tongue and closed her eyes to get “comfortable.”
    The next thing she knew, Celia was shaking her awake. “Sam? Honey, they’re done.”
    What the hell? Did she sleep through the stitches? “What did they give me?”
    “Nothing. You fell asleep.”
    “That’s one for the record books.” At least her face didn’t hurt anymore. That was something anyway. “What time is it?”
    “Noon.”
    Groaning, Sam sat up too fast, and a head rush overtook her. Celia’s hands on her shoulders steadied her.
    “You need to take it slow,