Chapter 838
She pushed open the door to the clinic. The familiar smell of antiseptic filled the air. To her relief, Dr. Reed was at her desk, reviewing a file.
The doctor looked up, a warm, professional smile on her face. “Thompson. Back so soon? What is it this time?”
Caroline held up her wrist, which she had already started to rub to create a plausible redness. “Just a minor sprain, I think. Instructor’s orders to get it looked at.” She shifted the responsibility, creating a layer of insulation.
Dr. Reed gestured for her to sit. As she gently palpated the bones in Caroline’s wrist, she made small talk. “Looked like an intense session out there today. I heard we have a new addition to the training cadre.”
This was the opening.
“Yes, ma’am. Instructor Hawke,” Caroline said, her tone casual, that of a curious recruit. “She’s… impressive. Doesn’t seem like a standard drill instructor.”
She paused, letting the statement hang in the air before delivering the first, carefully calibrated probe. “I was thinking she must have come from a specialized unit. Maybe one of Colonel Romero’s old teams?”
She deliberately linked Sloane and Jarrod, then watched.
Dr. Reed’s fingers, expertly examining her wrist, faltered. It was a micro-expression of movement, a hesitation so brief it was almost nonexistent. But Caroline saw it. It was a tell. A hit.
The doctor recovered instantly, her professional mask sliding back into place. “The personnel records of special operators are highly classified,” she said, her voice a smooth, practiced wall of deflection. “I’m not privy to that kind of information.”
It was a textbook non-answer. But the hesitation had already told Caroline everything she needed to know. She was on the right track.
Caroline didn’t push. Pushing would only raise alarms. Instead, she pivoted, changing the subject entirely. She started asking intelligent, informed questions about Tactical Combat Casualty Care, about new tourniquet models, playing the part of a dedicated, ambitious soldier.
The tactic worked. Dr. Reed relaxed, her posture easing as she shifted into the comfortable role of a mentor.
As the doctor began to wrap her wrist with a compression bandage, Caroline deployed her final, seemingly innocuous question. It was a piece of conversational shrapnel, designed to hit an unexpected target.
“Speaking of the Colonel,” she said, her voice filled with feigned admiration. “He’s a real legend. I heard a rumor that he used to have this partner, a real ghost. They were inseparable. Such a tragedy what happened to her… war is hell, I guess.”
She let the sentence trail off, vague and filled with the kind of barracks gossip a recruit might overhear.
This time, the reaction was more pronounced. A shadow passed over Dr. Reed’s eyes. A tightening around her mouth. She finished securing the bandage with a sharp, efficient tug.
“Focus on your training, Thompson,” the doctor said, her tone suddenly clipped and hard. “Knowing too much about the past won’t help you pass selection.”
It was a warning. A clear, unambiguous order to stand down.
Caroline had her confirmation.