29. Consolation Prize

29

Consolation Prize

Brighton

Friday, June 2 nd

11:06 p.m.

Tapping on the door behind me pulls my attention from the book in my hand, and I freeze as a chill skirts down my spine. I blink, trying to get my eyes to focus on the sentence I've read three times. My overly active imagination is probably playing tricks on me. The rhythmic sound comes again.

It can only be one of two people. I shudder at the idea of the first, curious about what would bring the second. If I continue to ignore it, maybe they'll go away.

Another knock.

I glare at the door and drop the book on top of the pile I've finished reading, hoping the person who can't take a hint will hear my annoyance in the thud.

The mound of books topples over when my knee bumps into it, and I curse my stiff back as I try to straighten.

Knuckles strum against the door again.

My muscles tighten with anticipation, and fear halts my hand over the knob, snarling teeth and angry words settling into my mind.

I've never seen him like that.

I was trying to get a reaction, but I never expected a threat to accompany it.

I snap out of the memory, allowing it to fade.

"Dr. Fields?" The unfamiliar voice calls from the hallway. The rapping returns. "You in there?"

I fumble the handle, trying to twist the lock, and pull the door open.

Hudson has his fist poised in the air, ready to knock again.

"Detective? What are you doing here?"

I get a sheepish grin. "You're okay."

"Why wouldn't I be?" Visions of the anger on Kline's face resurface, and I shake my ankle, the pulse of the pressure from his hand still throbbing. I clear the growing lump from my throat and steady a fist on my hip, surprised neither of the two people I pictured are at the door.

Why is he here?

I don't have to voice my question as he stuffs his hand in his pocket and shifts his weight to lean against the doorframe. "I wasn't comfortable leaving you earlier but didn't want to cause suspicion." What would make him uncomfortable about leaving me with Kline? I knew it. They are suspicious of him. I knew it. There's definitely a commonality between the women he's been dating and the two victims.

Disheveled appearance. Unkempt work attire. Not paying attention. Claiming false information in patient's charts. Disrespecting me in front of coworkers.

The list goes on and on.

And Kline checks off every box.

I don't know why I didn't see it sooner. I've been so focused on trying to clear myself that I didn't see what was right in front of me.

My stomach twists with discomfort. I check my watch. "It's been almost an hour. If you were worried, why'd you wait so long?" I paste on a polite smile and pull the door open all the way, waiting for him to enter.

"I wanted to make sure he left before I came back up." He gives me another guarded smile and bows his head before approaching my desk. "But you're still here, and it looks like you're okay."

"I have some things I need to research." My calm voice belies the pounding in my chest, and I have to fight the contents of my stomach from spilling across the floor. Hudson needs to confess to what he's saying with bashful glances, fidgeting hands, and a lack of words before my mind goes into overdrive.

Why was he uncomfortable leaving me with Kline?

"I wasn't sure if you planned on staying, but that pile of books had me guessing correctly."

"I'm looking into some . . . things," I say, glancing at Liam's chart amongst the rest in the pile on my desk. "Why didn't you want to leave me here?" And why won't he answer my damn question?

A rush of blood fills my ears. I grit my teeth as frustration bleeds into my brain. Looking at diagnosis codes and checking charts was exactly what I wanted to do on a Friday night. He makes his way to the chairs tucked under the front of my desk and pulls one out as I follow, but he perches on the corner of my desk instead of taking it.

"Dr. Matthews' reaction to you showing up caught me off guard. Is there something going on between you two?" If he only knew the half of it. He pulls a pen from the holder next to my stapler and waits for my response. The grin he gave me before turns into a cocky smirk.

"Absolutely not." Besides the fact that he threatened me. Does Hudson have suspicions of something else? Because—yuck.

"Did he mention why we stopped by?"

"Dr. Pendegrass."

"We're looking into some discrepancies in people's stories."

I stop in front of him, crossing my arms over my chest. "You mean in Kline's story."

He humphs as a lock of hair falls into his eyes. A couple of seconds pass. It's obvious what he's doing. I've seen CSI. He's trying to make things awkward, get me to talk.

But I'm a vault.

I need to be the one dealing with all this until I have enough evidence against Kline, right? Besides, the only person I can trust right now is myself. And I don't know anything about the murders.

"I'm trying to keep you safe, doc. Dr. Matthews mentioned being partners in crime." He lets out an exaggerated breath as he crosses his arms over his chest. "Do you have a minute to answer some questions?"

"Why would you think I could help you?"

"The murders—I think they have something to do with you. And I think you can help me figure out what it is."

This is bullshit. He's not looking out for me. He wants information. Information I don't have. "We aren't dating. We've never dated. And that will never be an option. Is that what you're asking?"

"Thank you for clarifying, but no. Do you have any information regarding what he's been up to lately? A calendar? His schedule?"

"You'll need to talk to his nurse."

"I'm not saying you do, but you could? " I appreciate his subtle request. He yawns and stretches, the hem of his shirt lifting. His well-kept khakis and button-up from earlier now retired for rolled sleeves and some wrinkles.

I'm too tired for this shit.

Of course Hudson would expect me to cooperate.

How long has this been in the works?

One.

Two.

I'm not fast enough to think three when I get a confirming smile. "You could help our case. Have you noted the similarities between the victims and"—his eyes leave mine and fixate on my hair and mouth before returning—"other coworkers? Yourself?"

"No," I say. This hadn't crossed my mind. Not until now. But this is ridiculous. There has to be an explanation. I just need to figure out what it is.

"Brown hair, hazel eyes, five-sixish? You haven't noticed?"

"Have you seen the news?" I ask, redirecting our conversation. How did I never put two-and-two together until now? It was right in front of me.

His head flies up at my question, surprised I've changed the subject. "Every day," he says with an easy smile that turns primal as if this was a stupid question to ask.

"The malpractice suits? The ones covered by the news anchor, Chris Jenks?" I reiterate.

He nods but doesn't elaborate. He knows. He has to.

"He's involved with Kline's ex." Why do I have to be so obvious?

"And?" He gestures for me to continue. His lips fall into a scowl. "I don't see why that's important."

" And Chris is covering the murders," I add. Doesn't he see? Jenks has been here too. Every time.

He could be setting up Kline.

It's a long shot, but I can't help but think of every possibility. I clap my hands together, a little too excited to reveal my train of thought.

"Hear me out." I tick off my fingers as I spout off my list, "He's covering the malpractice. Conveniently showed up right after the hospital murder. And he's the lead anchor for what took place at the park." I cross my arms over my chest as I drop into my chair with a pompous smirk. "Sounds pretty cut and dry."

He considers what I've told him for a couple of seconds before he speaks. "I get it. I've been where you are. You're trying to protect Kline—whatever he's done—but we don't want this to happen again. He knew both the victims. He was more than a little friendly with them."

"But—" How dare he suggest I would protect Kline. I wouldn't defend him if my life depended on it. I'm just looking for more information, so I don't look like a fool when I finally hand it over.

He holds up a hand, cutting off my protests. "And he's somehow managed to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Every time. It sounds like Mr. Jenks is doing his job, and he's very good at it. There's no reason for him to pin this on Kline, even if he is dating his ex."

My mouth drops open with a gasp.

"I know it's not enough. But for now, it's what we've got, and that's where you come in."

"I don't think so." Seconds after they leave, Kline threatens me. If I dig deeper, what will he do next? I need to make sure my name gets cleared from the malpractice, and I don't have time to add whatever he's suggesting on top of everything else.

But Hudson's right. Why would Chris be involved?

I stand and return to my stack of books as a dismissal, but Hudson doesn't catch on. I scoop a couple off the floor and turn to find him clicking the pen over and over. He pulls his chiming phone out of his back pocket and grins after reading his incoming message. He must feel me staring because he gazes up, and our eyes meet as he takes a seat.

"Are you sure? We know about the evidence in the malpractice suit. The timing between everything can't be a coincidence."

Is he trying to blackmail me into helping him?

I scowl at him and drop the wobbling pile of books across my desktop. How dare he try to use the malpractice as leverage against me.

"I've already told Luca and Robert everything I know. Which is nothing." And I'm still gathering evidence.

"We're not here for the malpractice, but it raises suspicion that your signature is on every chart. And he said you were partners."

"Because I was in surgery with him." I cross my arms over my chest. I can't believe he would ever consider that I would be in cahoots with Kline.

"Like I said, we're not here for that. The timing of the lawsuits and these two murders go hand in hand. It can't be a coincidence."

"What does this have to do with me?"

"You're on the inside." He leans forward, resting an elbow on his knee. "Kline trusts you. You could help."

My mouth goes dry, and I give a snort of laughter. The way he treated me earlier says otherwise.

"Hey, don't shoot the messenger. It wasn't my idea." He holds up both hands before dropping the pen into the cup.

"Where's your partner?"

"Somewhere he can't misbehave."

"Good cop, bad cop?"

"Of course not. Good cop," he points at the door over his shoulder and then at his chest, "better cop. We're off duty. He went home after we left."

"But he sent you to do the dirty work and convince me to talk?" I narrow my eyes and take a seat, grabbing a file from the desktop. I should let Hudson know what Kline did after they left, but it would be my word against his. There could be marks left from his hand. I roll my ankle but decide to wait. "I don't know anything."

"That's not how this works. I saw an opportunity, and I took it. I'm very observant." He stiffens, crossing his arms over his chest.

I mimic his posture. "You came all the way back here to see if I'd cave?" I smile, acting innocent.

He nods.

"Believe me, if I knew anything, I'd give it to you. But I don't, and you don't know what he's capable of." I point to the door. My lips fall into a straight line at the memory of his calloused fingers, putrid breath, the threat.

Hudson's eyes widen. Everything I said put the wrong picture in his mind. Kline could make it easy for me to get fired after the depositions. I don't want to lose my job, but how do I explain this to an outsider? "If you need information about Kline, you can ask him."

"Or you can. Looks like you're getting a call." The side of his mouth quirks up.

I reach for my phone, and my heart plummets to my toes.

It's not Kline.

It's another unknown number from the hospital.

I close my eyes, willing the voicemail to pick up. I don't want to talk to anyone with Hudson around.

"Is it him?" he asks, breaking me from my mental plea. He leans over the desk as I shield the phone from his prying eyes. He gives me a lopsided grin and scoots closer as he tries to glance at the screen. "It's late. Could be important."

The phone stops vibrating, and I deliberately change the topic as I slide it into the center desk drawer. "It's not."

The remaining pile of books and charts beside the door is daunting. I give it a quick glance and Hudson notices. If he's going to be a means to my procrastination, I'm all for it, as long as he stops asking questions. I haven't come up with anything new from the other charts since I started looking. And my brain needs a break.

"Do you think he's involved?"

My head flies up at his question. "I don't know." That's the problem. Before Kline's comment about the timing of the murders and malpractice, I would have said no. But now, I'm not sure. I swallow the extra saliva that's filled my mouth and hope he doesn't take this movement as me trying to be evasive.

"We still haven't figured out what's going on with the pin Carrie had in her hand. It means something, but I don't know what. And"—he hesitates, running a hand over his face—"there was one found at the park too."

"On Jessie?"

"Pinned to a running pack she had around her waist."

"I told you we all have them."

"It seemed out of place. I shouldn't be telling you this." He analyzes my face, his eyes searching for answers he's never going to find. "Let me restate the question. Do you think he had anything to do with the murder of Dr. Pendegrass?"

"No." I don't hesitate because the idea of his involvement was too much for my mind to handle—until tonight when Kline mentioned it. And I wish I could take my answer back. I wouldn't have had any qualms about holding my stance, but things changed the second his hand wrapped around my ankle. "Maybe."

"Has he been acting strange?" He perks up, giving me a confident smile.

"Yes."

"The ex? The other women? What can you tell me about his relationship with the victims?"

"He's going through a divorce, and he has been dating a lot." I leave out that I'm curious about his connection to the victims too. I've already said too much.

"Not exactly an ex, yet. Got it."

"And I don't know about his relationships. What happens after he leaves this building is none of my business."

"He hasn't mentioned them?"

I swallow, rubbing my clammy hands on my jeans. "Maybe?" He mentioned meeting Carrie, but it was news to me. "We don't spend a lot of time briefing each other on our personal lives."

Hudson rolls his wrist over, checking the time. "That's a yes or no question," he says, standing from the desk.

"He didn't know both of them." Very well. This is so far from the truth that it's almost funny.

But not really.

Shock spreads across Hudson's face. A V deepens between his brow. "Are you sure?"

"The recent one—Jessie." This half-truth is a means to an end because I need more time. A nurse mentioned he only saw her outside of work once or twice.

"Are you sure about that? He never mentioned her? They never dated? That blows the case wide open. Shit." He wipes a hand down his face, scrubbing at the scruff on his chin.

I pull my fingers to my mouth, nibbling on the cuticle of my right pointer finger, and look toward the ceiling. I get a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. I don't know how much Hudson knows. And I don't want to be caught in a lie.

Is this a good idea? Am I sure about this? What's the charge for perjury? Will this give me any more time to figure things out?

Too late now.

"Maybe, in passing. I can't remember." I pull my shoulders to my ears, not ready to give him my theories. I need a confession or some other proof. I need to get into his office and see if he's left any evidence that could link him to the victims besides that they've dated.

He steps forward, excitement flashing in his eyes as he settles both hands on my desk and leans over it toward me. "I need you to find out. Can you do that?"

"Won't he get suspicious?"

He paces in front of the desk, both hands on his hips. "I'll figure out a way for you to get the information."

"You can ask his nurse."

"That would look suspicious. You talking to her is natural; it's something you do every day, right? You have an easy in."

"Him," I say, voice tight.

"What?"

"Kline's nurse is a man. Phillip."

"You talking to him . Is that a yes? You'll do it?"

I wait longer than he finds acceptable. I have some ideas. And if I'm right, Kline will be quick to tie the noose over his neck all on his own. "Fine. But this is going to be on my terms."