Page 7 of Doctor Enemy

See? I can be rational about things.

Even though I never want to look at anything with Sawyer Green’s name on it again, I’m going to pull myself together, act like a real doctor, and get out there to get my work done. I can be totally professional.

“Probably. I don’t like writing out my statements even when things gowell,” says Cara.

She tucks a strand of her long brown hair behind her ear, revealing small earrings shaped like white stars. “It feels like I’m in the principal’s office, even though I know, rationally, that it’s just standard practice.”

We share a few moments to complain about all of the paperwork that comes with being both a doctor and a resident, and then I head back out of the lounge, toward the nurses’ station to collect the papers that I need.

It feels like a long, slow walk of doom.

When I get there, I’ll be given a stack of papers at least twelve thick, maybe more of them since the cops are officially involved in this case.

Then I’ll have to spend the next two hours going over them and recounting every issue about the entire case, including the last moments of Sawyer’s life.

Being a doctor isn’t nearly as glamorous as the TV shows try to make it look.

The only upside is that the officer isn’t still standing at the nurses’ station when I get there. I bet he’s either taking statements from the driver, or he’s handling his own reports about Sawyer’s truly unfortunate death.

Maddie gives me a soft, sad-looking smile when I approach. “I’m sorry,” she says. “But I think that you’re handling it really well.”

“Thanks. You’ve got some papers for me?” I ask.

Maddie pulls a single sheet of paper out from one of the folders sitting on the desk and slides it toward me. “Kurt came and got the rest. This is the only one that needs your signature.”

A sharp bolt of anger shoots through me.

All that man ever does is try to bulldoze each case, and get his name slapped down as the head doctor on as many records as possible.

It’s the single most infuriating thing in the world, especially on the tail end of having just lost a patient.

I snatch the paper off the desk and storm off without saying anything to Maddie. It’s not her fault. I’ll come back later and apologize for being rude.

The only thing that I can think about is hunting Lockwood down.

I'm going to give him the piece of my mind that no one else seems interested in letting him have.

Chapter three

Kurt

Thedoctors’loungeisfor everyone.

The sleep room, that’s free game.

But my office is supposed to bemysanctuary at Mercy General.

It was a hard-earned thing—only department heads are given their own personal office.

Mine happens to be on the fourth floor, at the edge of the building. That means it’s got two large windows, which are presently letting in the warm glow of the city at night.

I don’t have much in here.

I’m not a super sentimental kind of guy. My house isn’t empty, but it’s not cluttered either, it's more of a modern and clean vibe, and I don’t collect anything past phone numbers of people that I meet at the bar.

They always say, “Call me sometime,” and then I toss the sheet of paper into my dresser drawer and never bother to touch it again.

I clearly don’t have any hidden drawer of phone numbers in my work office–a shame–but I also don’t have much else sitting around.

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