Page 26 of Wistful Whispers
Case One: Dr. Matthew Lee, Third-Year Neurosurgery Resident.
Fifteen years ago, Lee assisted Caldwell in a high-risk spinal tumor resection. From what Sarah dug up, he had the same kind of mentorship with Caldwell I do—did. He looked up to him. Trusted him implicitly.
Until things went wrong.
I scan the details and feel nauseous. “The patient had an unexpected hemorrhage?”
“A small vessel Caldwell didn’t anticipate.” Sarah nods. “By the time he realized how severe the bleed was, the patient had lost too much blood. She survived—with nearly two years of recovery.”
“Let me guess.” I swallow. “Caldwell blamed Lee.”
“Not directly.” She tugs at her sleeves “He framed it in a way where it was hard to ascertain. Textbook diversion. He positioned himself as the experienced surgeon who was focused on the task at hand and Lee as the overeager resident who didn’t spot the blood vessel. It was his first malpractice lawsuit.”
I press my fingers to my temples. Despite his gruff disposition, Caldwell isn’t merely a great surgeon—he’s been such a cherished mentor. He leads neurosurgery. His reputation is for building careers, not destroying them.
Why the hell would he be so ruthless? Why would he let his own residents take the fall and stall their futures to protect himself?
The answer creeps in, cold and bitter.
Because his career matters more. He’s spent decades cultivating his reputation and he’s not about to let anyone—not even the people who trust him most—jeopardize it.
Sarah points to the second file. “Case two. Dr. Adrian Park.”
Part of me doesn’t want to read it. I already know what I’m going to find. Nevertheless, I can’t bury my head in the sand.
Park assisted Caldwell on a pediatric brainstem glioma resection. Park also hesitated before a crucial step after seeing something on the imaging. Caldwell dismissed it.
“Let me guess,” I murmur, “when things went sideways, it was Park’s fault.”
Sarah leans forward. “Caldwell went on the record stating Park’s retraction placement was ‘imprecise.’ Inferred he was the reason the patient ended up paralyzed. The kicker?” She motions to the paperwork. “The surgical notes don’t reflect any of this. Caldwell rewrote history.”
The nausea morphs into the possibility of dry heaves. It’s exactly what happened in the OR with Miranda. I saw the blood vessel. I knew it was too close. I hesitated.
Caldwell kept going. Probably knowing if he succeeded he’d be the hero. If he failed, it would be my fault. Either way, he’d walk away unscathed.
I force myself to meet Sarah’s gaze. “Matthew and Adrian—what happened to them?”
“Matthew left neurosurgery entirely. He switched to radiology after his reputation took a hit. Adrian managed to finish residency. Gave up his fellowship. He ended up in a small private practice, nowhere near the career he was headed for.” She bites her lip.
I grip the edge of the desk.
He buried them.
Now he’s coming for me.
Sarah studies me. “Still think he won’t throw you under the bus?”
“I—I can’t believe it.” I shake my head, slow and heavy.
Not Caldwell. Not the man who always pushes me to do better.Bebetter. Who said I had the hands and mental stamina of a surgeon. Who believed in me. These two examples aside, his history of ongoing mentorship to his protégées is legendary.
I blow out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. “The deposition. It’s me and the Black’s lawyer, right?”
Sarah hesitates.
My stomach drops.
“Seamus,” she says carefully. “You’re not only facing Marcella Delgado tomorrow.”
