Page 52 of Bad Blood

I slide the folder back toward him. I should have known he would guess the note was from me.

His brow furrows with frustration. “Is that a yes?”

My jaw clenches of its own accord. I nod.

“And this?” He tosses a file in front of me and another, too quick for me to catch the names. “Four. There are four.”

“Yes, sir.” I take the charts, tapping them on my thighs to straighten them. I glance at the tags, noting the letter stickers signifying the first and last names of the patients. I come to the fourth and final file. “But not this one.”

Luca tilts his head to the side and takes the offered file. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t recognize this one.” And Bill Lee isn’t in the stack. I blink. That can’t be right. I left his file. I fan through the charts again. Where is he?

“Can you explain?”

“I don’t know anything, sir.” Besides assisting when requested, I’m not in the loop. Kline has done nothing but protect me, but something doesn’t feel right. “Can I see that again?”

He hands me Ms. Harrison’s file.

I peruse the pages, flipping between prior findings, lab tests, and surgical procedures. I grab another file. And another. And another.

Shit.

My stomach sinks. This one doesn’t have my signature. If Luca has a patient I didn’t find, how many more are there? And who gave this to him?

A follow-up with an infection that led to death. A tumor overlooked on CT. Surgery with incomplete removal.

Why doesn’t Luca have Bill’s file? He’s the guy who was on the stairs, the one I mentioned to the detective. I fan through the files one more time, hoping I missed his. But I didn’t. Because it’s not here. I know I left it. I know I did. Did Kline find it?

“Sir, are these the files your secretary gave you?”

Two lines form between his gray-speckled brows. “Kline brought me these. Tuesday afternoon.”

No, no, no. Did Luca’s secretary give them to Kline? I knew I should have handed them to Luca directly. I can see it all play out in my head: Kline drops by after I leave the charts, sweet-talks the secretary into going over what I left, and takes what doesn’t serve him. But that doesn’t make sense. Why would he add a file that places him in the crosshairs?

Luca’s eyes rove over the sheet of paper in his hands, reading off the script. “Were you aware this was happening before or after we got hit with the litigation?”

“I didn’t know about this until you called me, sir.” I’ve been following this alongside everyone else. I slide all four of the files back across the desk. Kline did this on purpose. But I only know half of it because he covered his tracks—to the naked eye.

Unfortunately for him, I know what I’m looking for, and the patients’ lawyers will figure it out too when they call in an expert. It’s right there—he’s lying. Taking their lives in his hands and snuffing them out.

“Dr. Fields.” Luca’s anger-filled voice draws me from my conclusion. “I know how hard this is.”

It’s a moot point.

“Sir?”

He pushes the intercom to Bea in the waiting area. “Send him in.”

Luca’s door opens as I turn in my seat, eyeballing the man, who I assume to be a hospital attorney, who comes dressed to the nines, briefcase and all.

“Dr. Fields,” he says, tilting his head toward me. “You’re being subpoenaed for deposition as a witness on behalf of Mount Sinai West.” He sets his briefcase on the edge of Luca’s desk and pops it open, pulling an envelope from inside before he offers it to me. “Next time you have this conversation, you’ll be under oath.”

My lungs seize, and I turn in my seat and ask Luca, “What? I thought this was to clear everything up. Why am I being subpoenaed?”

Luca nods goodbye to the attorney, and he waits until the door closes before he says, “It’s protocol. We need to cover our bases.”

“But I don’t know what’s going on.”

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