Page 105 of Bad Blood

I stop in front of him, crossing my arms over my chest. “You mean in Kline’s story.”

He humphs as a lock of hair falls into his eyes. A couple of seconds pass. It’s obvious what he’s doing. I’ve seen CSI. He’s trying to make things awkward, get me to talk.

But I’m a vault.

I need to be the one dealing with all this until I have enough evidence against Kline, right? Besides, the only person I can trust right now is myself. And I don’t know anything about the murders.

“I’m trying to keep you safe, doc. Dr. Matthews mentioned being partners in crime.” He lets out an exaggerated breath as he crosses his arms over his chest. “Do you have a minute to answer some questions?”

“Why would you think I could help you?”

“The murders—I think they have something to do with you. And I think you can help me figure out what it is.”

This is bullshit. He’s not looking out for me. He wants information. Information I don’t have. “We aren’t dating. We’ve never dated. And that will never be an option. Is that what you’re asking?”

“Thank you for clarifying, but no. Do you have any information regarding what he’s been up to lately? A calendar? His schedule?”

“You’ll need to talk to his nurse.”

“I’m not saying you do, but you could?” I appreciate his subtle request. He yawns and stretches, the hem of his shirt lifting. His well-kept khakis and button-up from earlier now retired for rolled sleeves and some wrinkles.

I’m too tired for this shit.

Of course Hudson would expect me to cooperate.

How long has this been in the works?

One.

Two.

I’m not fast enough to think three when I get a confirming smile. “You could help our case. Have you noted the similarities between the victims and”—his eyes leave mine and fixate on my hair and mouth before returning—“other coworkers? Yourself?”

“No,” I say. This hadn’t crossed my mind. Not until now. But this is ridiculous. There has to be an explanation. I just need to figure out what it is.

“Brown hair, hazel eyes, five-sixish? You haven’t noticed?”

“Have you seen the news?” I ask, redirecting our conversation. How did I never put two-and-two together until now? It was right in front of me.

His head flies up at my question, surprised I’ve changed the subject. “Every day,” he says with an easy smile that turns primal as if this was a stupid question to ask.

“The malpractice suits? The ones covered by the news anchor, Chris Jenks?” I reiterate.

He nods but doesn’t elaborate. He knows. He has to.

“He’s involved with Kline’s ex.” Why do I have to be so obvious?

“And?” He gestures for me to continue. His lips fall into a scowl. “I don’t see why that’s important.”

“And Chris is covering the murders,” I add. Doesn’t he see? Jenks has been here too. Every time.

He could be setting up Kline.

It’s a long shot, but I can’t help but think of every possibility. I clap my hands together, a little too excited to reveal my train of thought.

“Hear me out.” I tick off my fingers as I spout off my list, “He’s covering the malpractice. Conveniently showed up right after the hospital murder. And he’s the lead anchor for what took place at the park.” I cross my arms over my chest as I drop into my chair with a pompous smirk. “Sounds pretty cut and dry.”

He considers what I’ve told him for a couple of seconds before he speaks. “I get it. I’ve been where you are. You’re trying to protect Kline—whatever he’s done—but we don’t want this to happen again. He knew both the victims. He was more than a little friendly with them.”

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