Page 180 of Bad Blood

There is a choice in life. Either get stuck in the chaos, drowning in the hopeless swamps of the not yet and the not at all, or let the hero in your soul break free.

I’m ready.

And sick of waiting.

Why is this taking so freaking long? Luca’s secretary glances at me for the umpteenth time and offers me a faint smile. My insides are kicking and screaming to get things rolling.

I double-check that the brother’s two files are beside me in the chair and log in to my computer before I pull up Liam’s recent scan, ensuring I have all the facts straight before I show Luca.

The images show the mass in his right lung. Dammit, I pulled up the old CT. I close the file and click on the CT from Friday. I lean closer to the screen and zoom in on the photo.

There’s only one mass.

That can’t be right. I scroll to the top of the screen to check the dates on the scan.

There’s only one mass.

I click the X at the top right of the screen and open the scan from the beginning of May. Am I seeing things?

I slide the program to half the screen, open the new CT, and stare.

I hold up the tip of my pen to measure what I’ve found.

It’s smaller. And there’s only one.

The chemo is working.

I lean against the back of the seat, crossing my arms over my middle. What the actual fuck?

I pull Liam’s chart from beside me. I flip to Kline’s scribbled notes. To the CT. His X-rays. The radiologist’s findings.

There’s no way I missed this.

Kline lied.

I knew it.

I stand from the chair, sliding my laptop across the secretary’s desk. “Can I print this?”

Shock registers across her face as she clutches at her chest, not realizing my proximity. “What is it?” She wiggles her mouse to life to look busy.

“A patient’s file.”

“The whole thing?”

“A few pages.” I try not to come across as rude, but sense I fail when her eyes drop from mine to the straight line of my lips.

“You can try the air printer. It works half the time.” She ushers me back, pushing my laptop toward me.

“What’s the password?”

Luca’s door swings open, and I whip around as Robert comes strolling out, still in conversation with Luca.

What an ironic twist of luck . . .

“Ah, Dr. Fields. We were just talking about you.”

“All good, I hope?” I snatch my laptop from her desk, using it as a shield.

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