23. Dead to Rights

23

Dead to Rights

Brighton

Thursday, June 1 st

7:19 a.m.

There is something about being in the presence of Luca James that is both underwhelming and entertaining at the same time. I'm not sure if it's the drone of his voice or the tap-tap-tapping of his pen on the legal pad in front of him, but I lost track of what he was saying when he mentioned the badges again.

A sharp sensation comes from my right elbow. "Ouch."

"Sorry, Dr. Fields, did you need something?" Luca forces everyone's attention to me.

"No, sir." I rub where he pinched me. I hate how he thinks it's okay to pretend we're chummy when we're anything but. And why is it always the freaking elbow?

I turn in my seat, ignoring Kline's existence.

He chuckles under his breath.

"I'm sorry. Did I say something funny?" Luca stops tapping his pen. I can't say I'm not thankful for the interruption, but now there's no telling how long the rest of the meeting will be. Luca doesn't do well with distractions.

"Dr. Matthews wanted to know if there was any new information about Dr. Pendegrass. He didn't know how to ask. I figured I could help him out. How long will we have the extra security in the parking garage?" I ask, more out of my own curiosity than anything Kline mentioned.

Kline's face pales. Ha! That'll teach him to prod at me when I'm pretending to pay attention.

Luca glances at the pad in front of him, tracing his finger along his list. "Because of recent events, we're on a basic lock-down, if you will. Authorities aren't saying the incident at the park is related to the incident here, but the fact that someone else in the vicinity has fallen victim to a heinous crime doesn't bode well for us. As I said before, we are working in complete cooperation with the police, and if anyone has any information pertaining to . . ."

Somehow, I lost focus and missed everything Luca said. Did he say another victim? From the park —as in where I was with Dax last night? How did I miss this? I pull out my phone, searching for more information, when someone on the opposite end of the table clears their throat.

Dr. Tara Perez, our locum radiologist, waves. I've seen her around the last few weeks. She's always in some shade of red scrubs. They complement her olive complexion and brown hair. It's a bold statement, but it suits her, and she's extremely proficient.

I'm a little jealous.

"Yes, Dr. Perez?" Luca's nasally voice drones.

"Haven't they already interviewed everyone?"

Their conversation puts my search on hold. I need to know this.

Luca pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Well, yes, everyone here has been questioned pertaining to Dr. Pendegrass. I was reiterating the importance of coming forward if anyone thinks they know something about the recent incident, inform them and cooperate . . ."

I turn my head, chuckling into my shoulder. I do enjoy how easy it is to fluster him. Like I said, entertaining. I make eye contact with Tara, and she winks. I'm not the only one fluent in his propensity to fumble our meetings.

"And the security?" Kline asks, drawing Luca out of his rambling.

"Wear your badges." A couple of sniggers fill the room. Luca glances around, tsking under his breath.

Kline grabs my arm and raises it in the air. I yank free and swat his hand. "Knock it off."

"Yes, Dr. Fields?" It's hard to ignore the annoyance in Luca's voice.

"I think what Dr. Matthews ," I enunciate his name through clenched teeth, "means is, are we going to be stopped every time we go in and out of the garage for the foreseeable future, or is there a glimmer of hope that they'll let us return to normal soon?"

"It's a precautionary measure." Luca's voice cracks on the last word. He's getting agitated. His cheeks heat, and his blink is on repeat.

Tara pipes in, "Foreseeable future, check."

Small conversations take place around the table. Luca has lost hold of the meeting. He pushes his seat back and stands, grabbing his legal pad and pen. He taps the pen on the table like a gavel. "One more thing."

No one pays him any attention.

"I said," he clears his throat, "one more thing—HR wanted me to mention the malpractice lawsuit." He glances at Kline out of the corner of his eye, but his gaze bounces away before I can be sure I saw what I think I did.

He takes a sheet of paper from under his legal pad and reads it verbatim. "The investigation into the allegations regarding the misconduct and delayed diagnosis leading to wrongful death because of negligence . . ." His eyes do it again, but this time, I'm watching for it, and they land, without question, on Kline. "Due to Provider X failing to offer reasonable aftercare . . ." Blah, blah, blah. "Provider X is under comprehensive investigation . . . and the depositions will start in four weeks."

I stop listening, appreciating how he avoids Provider X's real name, although everyone knows Kline's the defendant he's referencing. I can't be the only one who observes Luca's blatant lack of subtlety.

But I think I am.

Kline stares off into space, acting none-the-wiser. It's an excellent tactic to take the heat off himself, even though it's obvious he's trying too hard.

Tara fiddles with her laptop. I bet she's playing solitaire.

A shock of envy courses through me, and I shoot her a covetous glance. I should have brought my laptop. Tara makes eye contact and yawns before rolling her eyes and gazing back at her computer screen. It's a little obvious for the new girl, but I like it.

The rest of the crew is staring off into space or pretending to pay attention.

"Also, we have a few fresh faces I'd like to introduce. I think you've all met Dr. Tara N. Perez." He holds a hand in her direction.

She wiggles her fingers in greeting.

"And we have a new interoffice delivery secretary, Ava D. Sinclair. She drives around delivering paperwork, lab data, etcetera. You may have seen her around. She's here or between hospitals in one of our white delivery cars most of the day." He glances over the top of his glasses. "She is not in attendance today. We also have Frank Peters and Shiloh Willis, our newest security additions. Please make them feel welcome."

The two of them wave from the back of the room.

"Any other questions?"

Everyone knows to stay quiet.

Do not engage—I repeat, do not engage.

Luca tucks the legal pad under his arm and slides his pen into the front pocket of his white dress shirt. He leaves the malpractice paper on the table.

It seems deliberate.

I glance at Kline out of the corner of my eye. He's staring at the paper too.

"If that's it, remember: badges, be vigilant, cooperate." He glances at the paper now but leaves it lying there. "Have a good afternoon."

The minute he steps out the door, everyone starts talking.

My eyes stay glued to Kline.

He stands and stretches, walking over to Tara. He strikes up a conversation, and I wish, more than anything, I could be a fly on the wall next to them. Something about his interest in her has me concerned. Since my run-in with Hudson, I keep noticing strange things I somehow overlooked before. Kline's interest in single brunettes is at the top of the list. And the gossipy nurses confirmed he's been going out with more of the staff than is appropriate.

She giggles at something he says, places her hand on his biceps, and leans into him. When both of them glance at me, I pretend to be looking at something else—like the pretend fly on the wall.

She agrees with something else he says, and they both walk toward me.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

So much for being discreet.

"Hey, it's Brighton, right?" Tara's voice interrupts my pretending.

I paste on a quick smile, glaring at Kline from the corner of my eye. "Yes."

She extends a hand as a gracious smile spreads across her face. "Tara."

"Figured you two should meet since she's going to be"—Kline clears his throat—"here for a while, filling in."

Something about his comment causes her to pause. She hasn't seemed fazed by anything, but how she averts her eyes and loses a little color from her cheeks says otherwise.

I give her the once over, sizing her up like Margo did with me. Kline's type, for sure. "You'll fit right in." I regret it the second it comes out of my mouth. Dammit, why does Kline always have me on edge, fighting for my right to be seen and heard?

Screw him.

I change tactics and take her by the arm to pull her into a hug. She stiffens. I guess I caught her off guard.

"Welcome," I mutter into her ear.

She squeezes me back after deciding I'm not a danger. "Thanks. Dr. Matthews and I were discussing the whole security thing a second ago." She points over her shoulder to where they were standing. "I haven't been driving in because we only have one car right now—Dom and I—but he had to take it on a business trip and won't return until next weekend. Dr. Matthews mentioned you live on the Upper East Side."

I shoot him a nasty glare but paste on a smile before I turn back to Tara. "I do. Need a ride?"

"Oh, you're a lifesaver. I have a ride with a friend for the rest of this week. But if you're willing to be a backup?" She cups my hands between both of hers and squeezes. "I hate taxis. Hate. Them."

"You and me both," I say with a chuckle, catching movement out of the corner of my eye.

Kline reaches across the table, grabbing the paper Luca left behind. He scans the room and folds it, stuffing it in his back pocket. When his eyes land on me, he smiles.

"Figured you'd be willing to help," he says, patting me on the shoulder and acting like he didn't get caught red-handed.

I narrow my eyes at him, but it goes unseen. He places a hand on Tara's shoulder and directs her into the line exiting the conference room.

"I get off at five every day," she says, glancing at the clock on the wall. "I can meet you in your office next week."

I seethe in silence.

I hate being put on the spot. And Kline knows I can't say no.

The seat groans when I drop into it, ignoring that I need to finish a few things before my time hiding in here is up, but I couldn't care less.

The room clears, and the door clicks to a close, goosebumps racing up my spine. One glance around at the chaotic conference room and I'm annoyed. Dealing with my colleagues is like wrangling toddlers. I don't have much experience with little people, but most adults shouldn't leave their chairs askew, pens on the floor, or mugs on the table.

With a swipe of my finger over the phone screen, my search continues. Not that I need to search long. The report appears on my screen as a top story on Fox 5 News. How did I miss this?

The photo of a black body bag on a gurney flanked by two crime scene workers is at the top of the page. I swallow the lump in my throat and scroll to the recap article from the news broadcast that aired early this morning.

Her face pops into my head before I finish scanning the article. I can't recall seeing her at the meeting.

But she would have been here, all of our department was.

Jessie Belmont.

She was with me a few days ago, working on a case. There has to be a reasonable explanation. What's the likelihood our team is being picked off one by one? I shudder at the thought. There's no way it was her. Not making it to the meeting doesn't mean imminent death.

I open the hospital directory and peruse through the departments. I find Jessie's photo under an explanation of what we do here at MSW Oncology Department below a Meet the Bone Cancer Team heading. I'm not sure what I expected to find. It's her—all smiles, exactly as I remember her from a few days ago. Dark hair, hazel eyes, white lab coat. I didn't know she was a runner.

There's a pang of regret that I haven't ever tried to connect with her on a deeper level.

What is wrong with me?

This is absurd. I'm not sure if she is the victim or if she's a runner. And the easiest way to put myself at ease is to find her.

She is the only J contact I have on my phone. I tap on her name and the phone icon. It rings and rings and rings to voicemail. This doesn't mean anything. She could be with a patient. I'm probably overreacting and she's fine. I close my phone and stuff it in the front pocket of my scrubs. I'll see if she's on the floor in a minute.

I gather the pens and pile them in the center of the table and my eyes dart to where Kline snatched the paper from. Why does he want it? It's not like none of us knows what it says. Maybe Luca didn't read it all. Or perhaps Kline intends to go over it on his own. But why would he act sneaky and pocket it? It's not like he couldn't get his own copy from HR. Or maybe he doesn't want them to know he's taken a bigger interest in the lawsuit.

"Do you have a second?"

I yelp and jolt in surprise, the coffee from the mugs I've collected splashing down my scrubs and onto the floor. "What the heck?" I shriek, grabbing at my chest.

Luca chuckles. "I'm sorry I scared you. Can I talk to you for a minute?" He closes the door behind him, turns his face away, and lowers his head. "Did he take it?"

"Take what?" I set the mugs in the sink and run a paper towel under the water, wiping it across the front of my scrub pants to get the coffee stain before it sets in.

"The paper? The one I left." He gazes at the head of the table. "Over there."

I drop to the floor and wipe up the splashed coffee remnants. A small part of me wonders if Luca expects me to explain Kline's actions—as if I know what he's thinking or why he's acting as strange as he is—but I couldn't justify what he's doing if I tried.

Luca walks to the other side of the room and places a hand on the table before stooping to look underneath it. "It's not here. I presume he took it, right?" He stands and smooths a hand down his white button-down shirt.

If I agree, will Kline be in more trouble? Did he do something wrong in taking the paper? Was he set up?

I plaster a smile on my face and lift an eyebrow.

"You don't need to cover for him."

"I've already told you what I know." Most of it.

"Depositions are at the end of the month. Explain what you saw, what happened."

The muscle in my jaw twitches; I'm sure it's a dead giveaway. The longer I'm silent, the more it looks like I'm covering for Kline. Which I'm not. I have no idea why the stupid piece of paper means so much to the two of them.

Tara peeks in the doorway after a brief knock, smiling, saving me from whatever I was about to bite the bullet for.

"There you are. Dr. Matthews said you hadn't come out of here yet. Is the ride home an open-ended offer? I'm going to be late tonight and won't need a ride until next week."

"Yeah, no problem. Whenever you need, you'll just need to remind me."

"I'll keep you posted." She smiles and disappears, the door creaking to a close. I take this as my cue to escape and grab my laptop.

Recognition dawns on Luca's face, and his expression hardens. "You could fix this."

"And I will. I need to find more charts, see where this started and why." He already has Collins' case to keep me quiet. I need to figure out why he's roping me in on these cases too.

"You have enough evidence."

Without thinking, I double-check that the USB is safely tucked in my breast pocket. I can't bring myself to hand it over because something tells me I'm the only one I can trust. What if Kline's not doing this alone? And how deep does this betrayal go?

I glance up at Luca, hating that my thoughts take me there, but until I sort this out, everyone is a suspect. "But that doesn't explain why he's doing this on the cases I've worked with him. Do you have any ideas?"

Luca shakes his head. "That, I don't know."

"Exactly. I'm going to get to the bottom of this. I need to know why. And I'm close."

But I need more proof. A motive.

And I want to be the one to find the hammer to secure the final nail into his coffin.