Page 44 of Bad Blood

“It’ll only take a sec.”

“I have a meeting.” I rub at the headache threatening to turn into a migraine and usher him ahead of me. I lean against the doorway this time, crossing my arms over my chest. “So?”

“Did you see this?” He holds up a gray pin, stopping next to me. It’s the caduceus—the symbol for medicine and the practice thereof—a staff with two snakes coiled around it. A pin all of us doctors bear over our names sewn over our breast pocket, attached to our stethoscope, or on our scrubs.

When I go to reach for it, Hudson drops it into his palm and folds his hand into a fist.

I point at mine, realizing now why it drew his attention earlier. “We all have them.”

He drops his gaze to the floor, kicking at something imaginary on the linoleum tile. “So, that’s a no.”

“I’m not following you.”

“She had it in her hand.”

My hands fly to cover my open mouth without my permission. “Was it hers?”

He shakes his head. “She had hers there too,” he says, pointing at mine. “All of you have them?”

“They sell them in the gift shop like candy. But, yes, we all wear them. Even the nurses. I think I have a couple in my desk if you—”

“I’m good, thanks.” He holds up a hand, declining my offer. “Is there anyone who doesn’t wear one?”

“Not that I can think of, but I pay little attention to that. Sort of becomes something you notice without seeing it, you know what I mean?” I stifle a yawn with the back of my hand, unwilling to follow my thoughts to their logical conclusion. What if Kline’s is missing?

The corner of his mouth quirks up. “Thank you for your time. If you think of anything else, please call.” He pulls out his wallet and offers me another business card.

I pat my freshly starched, blood-free lab coat pocket where I tucked his previous card. “I’m keeping it close. Just in case.”

Hudson smirks. And this time, I definitely see a rosy hue flood his cheeks. “My phone is always on.” He retreats down the hallway, turns at the junction, and disappears.

A couple of steps across the hall, I stop in front of Kline’s closed door, knowing I should avoid it by all means possible, even though this meeting will happen eventually. I prefer to get it over with on my terms. I don’t have the energy for him and his critique of who-knows-what. But I can’t get this sinking feeling in my gut to go away. I need to see if he has his pin, but even if he does, that doesn’t mean he didn’t replace it.

This meeting has to be about Liam, but I hold out hope that I’m not busted. I lift my hand to knock on his door when someone clears their throat behind me.

“Sorry.” Kline smiles. “I had to go over a couple of things.”

My eyes instantly land on the pin above his pocket. Berating thoughts fill my mind. I need to stop pinning him as the bad guy. I have no proof. Nothing to put him at the scene of the crime except my suspicion.

I nod across the hall, yank my office door open, and hurry inside. I expect him to follow, but I sit behind my desk, situate a couple of folders, cross my legs, and boot up my computer. I glance at my watch, noting I have a little less than thirty minutes before my first patient.

Kline clears his throat.

“Hey.”

He stands with his back to me, his focus on the hallway, with his hands stuffed in the pockets of his scrubs.

“Do you have surgery today?”

“At eight.” He signals toward the open door.

“You’re not needed in preop?”

“Did you see Carrie last night?” He changes the subject.

I shoot him with a death glare. He can’t be serious.

“I mean . . . before. Did you see her?”

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