Page 159 of Bad Blood

“I don’t agree.” I scowl. She needs to give me a better excuse than that. I deserve an explanation.

“There’s more going on than what you see.” She crosses her arms over her chest and narrows her gaze. I’ve offended her.

“I don’t think you should continue to be a part of Liam’s treatment.”

“You didn’t let me explain. You’d choose me over him?” Pain creases her features as her hands ball into fists.

“That’s not what I mean. Explain what?”

Relief creeps into her eyes. “Everything I’ve figured out. Why your results were inconclusive. Why you had your own chart.”

I stare at her.

She stares back.

I don’t know what she’s talking about, and she doesn’t seem too forthcoming with the information.

“It’s not just Liam. Look.” She sets her laptop on the table and opens it, her fingers flying across the keyboard. “This is against HIPAA, and I need someone to confirm I’m not going crazy.” She pushes it in front of me. And waits.

This makes no fucking sense. What does this have to do with Liam?

Her eyes plead with me to come closer. Confirm whatever it is she thinks she’s found. I slide into the chair in front of the laptop and scan the screen. I have no idea what I’m looking for.

I read the note about a patient’s cancer. The page ends and I scroll to the next. There’s some lab stuff and a scan of some sort, a lot like what Liam showed me. I push the laptop toward her.

“I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“Here,” she says, kneeling beside me. “This shows the patient’s markers are within limits. She’s clear. No more cancer.” She swipes her fingers across the mouse pad. “But here, on Dr. Matthews’ note, he says she needs surgery to remove a tumor.”

I glance over at her. Our eyes meet. She exits that file and clicks on another patient’s name. “And here, same thing.” She scrolls through the pages too fast for me to catch anything, but her explanations make sense. “No cancer. Normal blood. Another scan. Unnecessary treatment.”

She taps on each patient’s electronic chart, counting them off as she goes. “Nine. And those are only the ones I know about.”

I click back through the tabs on her computer, and she offers me a file.

“It’s Liam’s,” I say, looking up at her as I wait for her to confirm what his chart has to do with the rest.

“One mass significantly shrunk. Almost nonexistent. But here,” she flips to another page. “Dr. Matthews signed off on radiation treatment and surgery.”

“But he does need surgery.”

“Correct, but not that surgery.”

“The malpractice thing.” This is a lot to take in. Kline’s lying. To a lot of people. This was on the news at Liam’s first appointment. At the time, it didn’t matter. Now, things look a little different.

“He’s under investigation for Mr. Nelson.” She turns her laptop, clicks on a new tab, and types in the name. “Chemo for a cancer he never had. But that’s not all.”

“Why didn’t you say something?”

She rolls her eyes.

I let it slide.

“I tried.” She shuts the laptop. “He knows I know. He wants me to keep quiet. And I’m going to.”

“What?” I push out of the chair, knocking it into the one beside it.

She gives me a cunning grin. “For now.”

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