Page 42 of Bad Blood

“There was an incident this past spring with a patient and the stairwell. None of us thought twice about it, but it wasn’t isolated. The patient kept going to them under strange circumstances. Again and again. Like he was scoping out the place. I hadn’t considered that patient could have anything to do with Carrie until I pieced together some of what she was saying, but,” I slide the folder in front of him. The one that holds the patient in question, along with mine and Kline’s signatures. “This guy was misdiagnosed and lost his life. He’s also a patient in the malpractice litigation.” At least he will be once I give his chart over to Luca.

Hudson takes the file and props his leg onto the edge of my desk. “And? You think this has to do with whoever murdered Dr. Pendegrass?”

“Maybe. She could have been telling me to run, for all I know. The guy could have still been on the stairs. I don’t know.” I drop into my seat, my shoulders rolling forward. I sound stupid and paranoid. He’s never going to believe this. What am I thinking?

Hudson slides his business card across my desk and surprises me by saying, “This is worth looking into.” I look up and see a cautious smile.

He dives into simple questions. Did I hear the gunshot? Was there more than one? Was there anyone else in the stairwell? I answer with automatic replies.

But I can’t take my mind off the only other thing I made out. The thing that puts Kline behind the barrel of the proverbial gun.

Nelson.

13

Chaos Ensues

Brighton

Thursday, May 11 th

6:51 a.m.

I can’t concentrate. I thought last night was a shit show, but what the fuck?

Hundreds of questions, six cups of coffee, and one headache later, and I’m suffering at the hands of Luca. Half-zombie. Half-human.

The first hints of sunlight brighten the sky to an orangish hue beyond the window. And I stare out, lost in mental snapshots of what happened last night. The gunshot. Blank eyes. Her mouth moving. Blood. A lot of blood.

Despite my best efforts to focus on what Luca’s saying and ignore the commotion outside of this doctors’ lounge, the sharp elbow jab to my side is a couple of seconds too late.

“Dr. Fields, do you have any questions?” Luca asks.

A surge of annoyance courses through me. I have a million fucking questions. Like, who in the hell murdered one of our doctors? Are there any suspects? What are they doing to protect the rest of us? And how in the hell is a badge supposed to ensure this doesn’t happen to someone else?

Kline snickers beside me.

“No, thank you. All clear.” I salute Luca. “Wear the badge. Don’t lose the badge. The badge is my number one priority. Got it.”

Luca’s jaw tenses, and his lips fall into a scowl. “HR is available for photos between noon and four to update badges. If you can’t make it between those times, please notify your head of department. Dr. Matthews,” he says, pointing to Kline, “will have the new badges to you by the end of the day. Let me know if you have questions. Let’s work together to prevent what happened to Dr. Pendegrass from happening to anyone else. Be vigilant. Travel in pairs. And if you see something, say something.”

I pull the elastic band from my hair and comb my fingers through the knots. Who would have known we were going to need to be presentable today? And I don’t have the strength to think about what happened. Cold, calloused—yes—but it’s part of who I am. This is how I deal. Shut it out. Compartmentalize.

Don’t think about it. There are plenty of other things that deserve your focus—things you can control. Breathe.

Kline lolls his head toward me and wipes his finger along his lower lashes. “You got something right here.”

“It’s called sleep deprivation.” I fight the urge to roll my eyes as the side of my lip twists in disgust, wiping away what I assume to be dry mascara. Falling asleep on one’s desk and only getting a couple of hours of shuteye is never in one’s best interest.

The sound of scooting chairs and a couple of yawns fills the air. I hate meetings.

Hate.

Them.

Most of the staff return to their duties. I stall, needing a couple more minutes to wake up. I grab the box of donuts from in front of Kline and pull it toward myself. He catches the lid, stopping it before I can reach for one. “You busy?”

“Right now?” I look at him with irritation. “Like, literally?”

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