12. The Pest

12

The Pest

Brighton

Thursday, May 11 th

1:27 a.m.

I keep getting furtive glances from the police, the detectives, and the hospital security. I want to scream I'm fine and to back off. But then they would think something's wrong. Heat rushes to my face as I nibble on a fingernail. When I pull my hand away, my eyes land on the dried blood covering fingers. My skin crawls, knowing it's not mine. The continuous pacing in front of the nurses' station helps my focus as I continue to avoid eye contact.

Is it hot in here? Just me? I grab the edge of my crimson-stained lab coat and fan it out, but the hairs prick on the nape of my neck with the feeling someone is watching me. If I crack, there will be more questions. And the last thing I need is more attention.

So, I don't scream. I'm not fine.

Where was Kline, and how did he get there so fast? Was it the scream? Could he have been in the stairwell? A room? Was he the sound I kept hearing? I catch him in the middle of a conversation I can't hear over the ringing in my ears. I glare at the back of Kline's head as he explains to a tall, broody detective what he found, accompanied by wild hand movements. He darts his eyes in my direction, and the detective follows his gaze.

Despite trying to evade the truth—that I don't want to think Kline's involved, but that he could be—the last thing I want to do is give my side of what happened to the detective with him listening in, but why'd he have to look at me that way? Does he think it was me? Is he going to try to pin this on me?

I need to get out of here. Pretend none of this happened.

My eyes land on the body covered by a sheet, which shoots a pang of fear through my chest. Am I being too callous? Do they suspect me?

"You need to check the surveillance." My voice comes as a shock to my own ears.

Kline's brow's pinch together. He shakes his head. I throw off the blanket that someone draped over my shoulders and close the distance between us.

"Maybe the killer will be on there."

"We've already checked, ma'am." The detective braces one arm on the counter, his other hand on his hip. "There's a cover over all the cameras because of the construction."

Of course there is. Because who would be brazen enough to shoot someone if there were live cameras? My gaze darts to Kline. To the nurse. Her face is blotchy as she talks to a woman detective. But Kline's face is blank, nondescript.

I can't believe I'm suspicious of Kline. Sure, he'd mess with some files, screw with the insurance—but kill someone?

And why? What would be his motive?

"Did you check for cameras in the stairwell?" The realization that I never got any more information on the body lying beneath the skewed sheet floods me like a levee breaking open. I saw her face. Looked into her eyes. But I saw her leave after work.

The detective shakes his head. "There aren't any cameras on the stairs?"

"Have they figured out why she was here?" The sound of my voice cracking makes me feel inept. Why wouldn't we have cameras on the stairs? And how come I didn't know? They could have caught something.

Kline crosses his arms over his chest, wipes a hand down the whiskers on his chin, and looks at me like I've lost my mind. "Dr. Pendegrass?"

The sound of her name does me in. My legs shake, and my head turns woozy, turning Kline into two bodies instead of one. A heat flushes up my neck and settles into my face. I blink my eyes, trying to hold myself upright at the edge of the counter.

Too many hands are on me, guiding me to the ground, steadying me against the counter wall.

When my eyes meet Kline's, I know my thoughts are going haywire, and I need to redirect them. This is nonsense. He would never . . .

"Where is she? Is she okay?" Luca's voice pulls me from the chaos as the elevator doors close behind him. His gaze swings to the right before he searches the floor.

I wave as he comes rushing over. Does he mean me? Or Dr. Pendegrass?

Kline intercepts him with a hand on his arm. "We need to ramp up security. I won't tolerate my people's lives being in danger."

Luca swallows and pulls his arm away. "Where's security?"

Two men step forward as he makes his way to me.

"Are you okay? You found her?"

I nod. "Can I go home?"

"No, not yet. The police are still canvasing the hospital. I don't think it's wise to go anywhere on your own. What a tragedy." He wipes a hand down his face. "This is a liability nightmare."

"Do you have a minute? We need your statement." The detective questioning Kline steps behind Luca, directing the question at me.

Kline speaks up. "She's been through enough, don't you think?"

My heart races and my head spins. Why is he speaking for me? The floor tilts as the air in my lungs is sucked out of me. I gasp, trying to act normal. What if they all suspect me? It's pathetic that I can't control my thoughts or my reactions. I can't slip up. Not now. Not when everyone is watching me. I need to push through and give a statement because it's the right thing to do to show I care for the life that was lost.

"You found the body?" he says, ignoring Kline.

My mouth is dry, and no matter how hard I try, nothing comes out.

"Would you prefer to do this at the precinct?" The detective's words are not a threat. Understanding creeps into his eyes as he extends a hand, ushering me away from the crowd. "Do you need a second?"

I shake my head and clear my throat. "Dr. Pendegrass was alive when she came out of the stairwell."

I glance up at Kline, and his eyes beg me to stay silent. There's something off in them I can't put my finger on, but it causes me to pause.

The detective perks up. "Did she say anything to you?"

Heat courses up my neck and envelops my face. I replay the scene over and over in my mind, but the words still make no sense. My gaze settles on Kline, and we keep our eyes locked as I answer. "She mumbled something, but I couldn't make it out."

Kline slumps against the counter, burying his head in his hands. I can't tell if it's from relief or that I've let him down.

The ding of the elevator pulls everyone's attention from me. My body involuntarily sags with relief. Not being able to decipher what she said is already haunting my thoughts.

Chris Jenks takes a step from the elevator, all smiles. "The people have a right to know what's going on at this damn hospital." His eyes bounce from face to face, landing on the poorly covered body. "Holy shit." His words trail off as he covers his mouth.

"Who the hell let him up here?" Luca yells toward the security guards as they rush up to Jenks. They take him under the arms and force him back toward the elevators. He thrashes against them, trying to get a view of the scene beside him.

"Has the victim been identified? Is it a staff member of the hospital? A patient?" He fires off the questions, not waiting to get answers. "Has a suspect been apprehended?"

The guard jams his finger into the down arrow, and the elevator doors slide open. He forces Jenks onto the platform and joins him inside, pushing what I assume to be the button to take them downstairs. Jenks wrenches his arm free as he staggers back to lean against the wall, and the guard shakes his head. I'm only half-present, my mind shifting between watching the commotion in front of me and losing myself to thoughts of who could have done this.

A look of confusion and shock settles into the two lines that appear between the guard's dark brows as his shoulders sag. I'm not the only one unraveling.

The doors glide together as Jenks dives forward, pulling the emergency button, and the elevator doors halt, half-open. He slips from between them, the husky guard unable to follow because of his size. The guard's mouth falls open with a yelp of shock as he jams an arm through the gap, grasping the corner of Jenks' shirt.

Jenks slips free and smiles a cocky, sideways grin as he brushes his hands down his sides.

I'm not sure what Jenks is thinking but police are on him before he can right himself from stumbling out of the guard's grasp. He bounces on his toes to get another look at the body.

When our eyes meet, his lips twitch into a serpentine grin. "Dr. Fields, wherever you go, chaos seems to follow."

I narrow my eyes.

"Get him out of here. Now." Kline's authoritative tone leaves nothing to be argued. Luca nods toward the detectives as they direct Jenks back to the elevator to ensure it leaves the floor.

"Thank you."

Kline's brow arches. "For what?"

"Making him leave." I still can't figure out how Kline got to the main floor when he did. Where I ran into him doesn't add up. He couldn't have snuck by. But there's no way he could be involved.

The tall, broody detective returns, pulling me from my thoughts. "We need to ask you some questions. Do you prefer here or an office?"

Kline stands and stretches, answering for me. "She needs some time. You get it, right?" Stay silent —he gives me a silent plea, fear streaking through his eyes.

Anger boils in my veins. Now that the adrenaline has worn off, I'm making sense of what's going on.

"I'm fine. We can go to my office." It's hard to think in words right now, but I push off the wall behind me and stand, amazed my equilibrium has returned to its normal state. I motion for the detective to follow me. "Detective . . . ?" I let my voice trail off, raising my brow.

"Roark. You can call me Hudson."

"Follow me."

"You can wait to talk to them until you have your lawyer present," Kline shouts after us, the words coming out strangled.

I stop halfway through the doorway. Why would I need a lawyer? Does he think . . . ?

"What's that supposed to mean?" I round on Kline, clearing the distance between us, and poke him in the chest. "Where were you? You just show up out of nowhere." I narrow my eyes, hoping I get an explanation that makes sense so I can stop worrying about it.

He throws his hands up in surrender. "I'm just looking out for you, kid."

Hudson steps between us, begging me to remain quiet with a pointed stare. "No one's pointing fingers." The curve of his mouth lifts at the corner like, I know what you're thinking . I'm thinking about it too.

I scowl at Kline and return to the hallway. Hudson stalls, glancing between the two of us.

"Dr. Fields?" The sound of his shoes connecting with the linoleum reverberates through the vacant halls. He tries to catch up with me as I flick on the lights.

"Yes?" I don't give him a chance. My purse and its contents are splayed in front of my locked office. The keys are right there. Right where I couldn't find them. I scoop them up, insert the key, and twist as I step over the other remnants. "Come in."

"Are you alright?" He stops beside the door, leaning against the frame, lingering next to me.

I avert my gaze, trying to make sense of what she said. It could be incriminating, but not necessarily for Kline. It makes no sense. But I want to get this done and over with so I can go home.

When our eyes meet, Hudson smiles. It's boyish, sweet, and nothing like one would expect from a hard-nosed detective. If I didn't know any better, I'd think he was blushing, but by the time I consider it, the sound of footsteps draws closer, and I have seconds to fill him in.

His eyes search my face, looking for answers. And I'm about to tell him everything she said, everything I know—when Kline turns the corner at the hall and comes into view. He's escorted by another detective, all smiles like he won an Oscar for the best performance, and my stomach roils with disgust.

He stops a few feet from us. "Is everything okay?"

We both offer hardened smiles. But Kline doesn't take the hint.

"I need a couple of files. The whole reason I came back to the office so late." He pulls his shoulders to his ears and grins out of the corner of his mouth. "And I'm getting debriefed so I can go home." He motions behind him to where another detective follows him. "Never would have expected the night to turn into something like this."

"Crazier things have happened. I'll catch up with you in the lobby when I'm done," Hudson says to the detective, shifting his weight as he crosses his arms over his chest. His eyes stay pinned to Kline as he escorts the detective into his office and shuts the door.

Hudson's eyes darken as he blows out a long breath through his nose. The scowl on his lips emulates the forced rigidness he tries to correct when he turns to face me.

I usher him into my office and close the door behind us. I direct him toward a chair at the front of my desk as I make my way to the cabinet next to it.

"Stairs." When I'm distracted, I miss things. But I didn't miss this.

"I'm sorry, what?"

I take out the three files from earlier and start perusing the notes. "You asked what she said."

"Right." He leans forward, following my movements with his eyes.

"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.