Page 187 of Bad Blood

He slams a fist against the table between us. “For you,” he says between gritted teeth.

“I never asked you to do that.”

“But I did. I couldn’t let my star pupil ruin her career with her first major case. Not that it was an actual mistake.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re looking into all these patients, and you didn’t think to check Collins’ case? Did you really think you messed up? That I’d be allowed to keep you on here if you were the physician behind a death before you were out of residency?”

“What are you saying?”

“You didn’t do anything wrong. I just made you think you did.”

“And you’ve held it over me ever since.” A guttural sob escapes from between my lips at my realization. I take a step back, putting some space between us.

He rounds the table and stops in front of me, our awkward dance around the room coming to a standstill as he jabs me in the chest again. “Just wanted to make sure you know your place. And remind you that I’m in control. It’s not something I want you to forget.”

“You can’t use Collins’ case against me.”

“You sure about that? I seem to remember a certain someone finding evidence that suggests otherwise.” He shakes the sheet of paper in the air, his eyes bouncing to the photos scattered on the floor.

He lunges for me, grabbing a fist full of hair and jerking me off my feet. I struggle to pull free as he backs me into the wall, my hands clawing at his fingers.

“You put the list there on purpose.” It’s not a question. He wanted me to find it. He started this before I ever got the chance.

“You have no idea what you’ve done.” He doesn’t confirm my accusation. “You fucked up everything!”

“Please, stop.” Tears sting at the back of my eyes and everything blurs.

“I told you to stay quiet. Stay out of things, but you don’t listen.”

“We can fix this.” I press my hands together, begging him to stop as I look into his eyes.

“I tried to keep you out of everything.”

He loosens his grip on my hair, takes hold of my scrub shirt, and pulls me after him. I stumble forward, trying to yank out of his grasp, but his hands clench tighter.

“Let me go!” I flail in vain, kicking and pushing, trying to get him to stop.

“Shhhhh.” He pushes me away, and I slam into the table, my head knocking against the top. “I need you to listen to what I’m saying. Listen.”

“Please, stop.” I hold a hand up, scooting across the table with one foot, the edge of it the only barrier between us. I make it to the end, and he races alongside me, grabbing my chin and squeezing, forcing my teeth to cut into my cheeks as my mouth pops open from the pain. I cry out in agony and thrash against him as he drags me over the side and onto the floor, hovering above me.

“I told you not to do this.”

I struggle against him, but the more I flail, the harder he holds on. I slam my fists into his chest, and he flinches, letting me go as he takes a step back. His eyes have morphed into two black voids, any trace of conviction now gone; he almost looks inhuman.

Time’s up. I take my chance and roll to my side and race toward the door. My shoe slips against the linoleum and I slide, my back slamming into the cabinets as I fall, stopping, the door is just out of reach. A pained breath tears out of my mouth as I grab a hold of my side.

“Are you paying attention now?” Kline lurks closer, popping his knuckles.

“Please.” I get out in broken syllables as my lungs try to adjust to the air being knocked out of them. He pushes himself on top of me, the pressure of his body on mine forcing any remaining breath out of me. I pound my fists against him over and over, unable to get him to get off me. “Why are you doing this?”

“To keep you humble. Divorce is expensive.”

“But you’re lying.”

“Who do you think they’ll believe, me or you? I’m the head of oncology. Until I got caught with Ms. Harrison, no one knew anything. And I plan to keep it that way.”

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