44. Call the Doctor

44

Call the Doctor

Dax

Saturday, June 10 th

9:41 a.m.

"This is not your best angle."

I glare at Liam from the corner of my eye, partially listening to the doctor explain what he's doing as he finishes the last stitches on the back of Liam's head.

"Three and a quarter centimeter laceration. Eight stitches. Come back in seven to ten days."

"But it's my week off." Liam shivers at his last couple of words, turning his head and cringing as the final suture pulls taut. His need to stay away from this place is understandable.

The doctor rolls on his chair, facing Liam where he sits on the edge of the exam table. His brow pinches together. "Just a simple suture removal." He turns, pointing the scissor-like tool at me. "Unless you wanna do it?"

"No way." I feel all the color drain from my face.

It's a minor cut. But he's okay, and that's all that matters. No food and low blood sugar, and Liam passes out. I could have had none of this information and been completely happy with my life. He scared the shit out of me.

The doctor gives me a spirited grin. "Bring him back in. It'll only take a couple of minutes. But before you go, you need to get that cough loo—"

The door to the room flies open, and a ruffled Brighton steps in. Her eyes dart around the area, landing on Liam, and her body slumps with instant relief.

"What happened?" She glances at me out of the corner of her eye, not voicing that I shot her a text when we got to the ER. She steps around me to get a better look at the back of Liam's head.

I wasn't expecting the rush of emotion at the sound of her voice, but knowing she's here makes everything better. And I'm not the only one in the room to stare. I narrow my gaze at the doctor, and he gives me a sideways grin, silently asking if I blame him with a shrug.

Liam rubs his fingers over the cut, flinching, and quickly pulls his hand away. "I hear the ladies like scars."

"They won't be able to see it when your hair grows back," she says, leaning over him to get a better look.

"You ruin all my best ideas." Liam gives her a Cheshire grin.

"I can remove these. A week?" She directs her attention to the doctor. And he lights up.

"Should be plenty of time. I haven't seen you around lately." He rolls the chair to the back of the room, smiling as he puts away his tools.

"I don't make it a habit to visit the ER on a regular basis." Her indifference to the man is evident as she gives Liam the once over. She scans him from top to bottom as she pokes, prods, bends, and twists his limbs. "Ready to go upstairs? We can do an infusion to help you feel better." She doesn't give Liam the chance to answer. She reaches under his arm and heaves him off the table.

Her eyes land on me. She dips her chin, and there's a brief pause—a silent thank you wrapped in underlying context when she says, "Dax."

I grin.

Liam coughs, clearing his throat as he pulls the door open.

"I don't like the sound of that," the ER doctor says as his eyes flicker to Liam holding the door open for the rest of us to pass. Brighton drops her gaze and exits; the doctor exits a couple of steps behind her.

"I don't think it's anything to worry about," she says, staying a few feet ahead of us.

"It's your fault," Liam whispers, slowing his pace to stay beside me.

"I didn't do anything."

"You didn't have to." He shoves at me, grinning as we start down the hall.

"Wait, what's my fault?"

He points to the two figures ahead of us. "Her keeping her distance."

"But you wanted it that way."

He narrows his gaze. "No, I wanted you to stay away from her . I enjoy having her around. She's sorta a big deal."

Brighton glances over her shoulder to make sure we're following. We get a bashful grin. And my favorite pinkish hue floods her cheeks before she turns.

"Agreed. But you can't have it both ways."

"Maybe that doesn't matter anymore."

His words are crushing but relevant. He has a point.

Brighton stops at the elevators, pausing as she pushes the button and sends the ER doctor on his way down the hall. When we catch up, she asks, "How'd this happen?"

Liam and I chance a glance at each other like scolded children.

She crosses her arms over her chest as she escorts Liam into the elevator. "Go upstairs. Find Lauren." She steps off, and a look of confusion creases his brow. She points at me as she heads in the opposite direction. "You, come with me."

"Hey," Liam protests through a cough as the doors slide together, leaving me alone to follow Brighton.

I freeze, watching as she continues without me, creating a gap between us. She gets farther away, and my mind convinces my body to move the second she's out of sight.

I race down the hall, around the corner, and slam right into her—crossed arms over her chest, scowl and all.

We tumble against the wall in a heap, her sliding to the floor, eyes wide with shock. I fumble over her, one arm next to her head on the wall, a leg in the air, and the other catching myself as I go down. I tuck and roll with much more flexibility and grace than I expected.

She starts to giggle.

"This isn't funny." I lie flat on my back, arms and legs outstretched like a star, staring at the ceiling.

"Quite the opposite," she says through breaks in her laughter. She stands over me, offering a hand.

I drop my arm over my face, a grin spreading across my cheeks. That smile. Those eyes. She's more heartbreakingly beautiful than I care to let myself remember.

She nudges me with her foot. "Come on."

"Did you plan that?" I roll to my side, pushing off the floor in one fluid movement.

"You caught me," she says with a smirk. She rolls her eyes and shakes her head, beckoning me into a conference room to our left. She pulls out the chair at the head of the table. "Sit."

I obey without question, slouching as I cross my ankle over my knee. I tug at the bill of my hat and pull my lower lip between my teeth to ensure the smile that's fighting to make an appearance stays tucked away and push visions of her eye roll to the farthest recesses of my mind.

We're here to talk about Liam.

Liam. Liam. And only Liam.

She pulls out the chair next to me. "I want details."

The memory of Liam on the floor. His eyes fluttering. The difficulty I had finding his pulse. I shiver at the visual in my mind. I lean forward, dropping my foot to the floor as I settle my elbows on my knees. "He said he's done. Can't keep food down. Feels like shit."

"And he passed out." It's a confirmation of her suspicion, one she looks to me to validate. Our eyes meet, and she shakes her head. "What about the Enterade?"

"He doesn't like how it tastes."

"Do you remember what I told you?"

I lean forward, interlacing my fingers as I stare at the floor. "Word for word."

"This is one of those things."

I slam my fist against the table, and she flinches. "Do you know what it's like to see him like this? Declining more and more every day. I'm trying. He's trying. We're here, aren't we?" My jaw tenses. She is not the focus of my frustration and anger.

She sits in silence across from me. I'm scared to look up and find disappointment on her face. But she surprises me when her hand slips over mine, and she squeezes. "He's halfway done."

"He's not okay."

"I understand." She hangs her head. "The last couple of weeks are always the hardest."

"He wants to quit." I gaze into her sympathetic eyes. I want to pull her to me, find comfort in her touch, and let her arms wrap around me to prove I'm not alone.

She stands and offers her hand. "But we're not going to let him."

"Easy for you to say. You weren't there."

"Look." She drops her chin to her chest. "I'm your brother's doctor. I didn't want to bring this up, but it's what's best."

"This can't happen?" I point between us. "That's what you're saying, right?" I grab her hand and pull myself to my feet. Her grip loosens, and our eyes meet.

She nods, dropping her gaze to the floor.

"I don't agree." I scowl. She needs to give me a better excuse than that. I deserve an explanation.

"There's more going on than what you see." She crosses her arms over her chest and narrows her gaze. I've offended her.

"I don't think you should continue to be a part of Liam's treatment."

"You didn't let me explain. You'd choose me over him?" Pain creases her features as her hands ball into fists.

"That's not what I mean. Explain what?"

Relief creeps into her eyes. "Everything I've figured out. Why your results were inconclusive. Why you had your own chart."

I stare at her.

She stares back.

I don't know what she's talking about, and she doesn't seem too forthcoming with the information.

"It's not just Liam. Look." She sets her laptop on the table and opens it, her fingers flying across the keyboard. "This is against HIPAA, and I need someone to confirm I'm not going crazy." She pushes it in front of me. And waits.

This makes no fucking sense. What does this have to do with Liam?

Her eyes plead with me to come closer. Confirm whatever it is she thinks she's found. I slide into the chair in front of the laptop and scan the screen. I have no idea what I'm looking for.

I read the note about a patient's cancer. The page ends and I scroll to the next. There's some lab stuff and a scan of some sort, a lot like what Liam showed me. I push the laptop toward her.

"I don't know what you want me to say."

"Here," she says, kneeling beside me. "This shows the patient's markers are within limits. She's clear. No more cancer." She swipes her fingers across the mouse pad. "But here, on Dr. Matthews' note, he says she needs surgery to remove a tumor."

I glance over at her. Our eyes meet. She exits that file and clicks on another patient's name. "And here, same thing." She scrolls through the pages too fast for me to catch anything, but her explanations make sense. "No cancer. Normal blood. Another scan. Unnecessary treatment."

She taps on each patient's electronic chart, counting them off as she goes. "Nine. And those are only the ones I know about."

I click back through the tabs on her computer, and she offers me a file.

"It's Liam's," I say, looking up at her as I wait for her to confirm what his chart has to do with the rest.

"One mass significantly shrunk. Almost nonexistent. But here," she flips to another page. "Dr. Matthews signed off on radiation treatment and surgery."

"But he does need surgery."

"Correct, but not that surgery."

"The malpractice thing." This is a lot to take in. Kline's lying. To a lot of people. This was on the news at Liam's first appointment. At the time, it didn't matter. Now, things look a little different.

"He's under investigation for Mr. Nelson." She turns her laptop, clicks on a new tab, and types in the name. "Chemo for a cancer he never had. But that's not all."

"Why didn't you say something?"

She rolls her eyes.

I let it slide.

"I tried." She shuts the laptop. "He knows I know. He wants me to keep quiet. And I'm going to."

"What?" I push out of the chair, knocking it into the one beside it.

She gives me a cunning grin. "For now."

I shake my head. "I don't understand."

There's one other file next to her laptop, and it catches my eye as she leans over to grab it. She offers it to me.

I read the name.

Grady Fields.

"Your brother?"

"I need more information. But yes, I think he was the first. If things are what they seem, he may have died for no reason."

"You think he's doing this on purpose." The pieces fall into place, and everything makes sense.

"I'm not going to let him hurt anyone else." She hangs her head. "Talking to Jenks set something into motion and there's no going back. It's only a suspicion, but too much has happened to be a coincidence."

"It looks like you have enough evidence . . ."

She cuts me off. "Not on the malpractice. I think he may have something to do with the murders."

I roll her words over in my mind for a second, pulling my bottom lip between my teeth as I try to untangle what I think she's saying. There's no way she means what I think she does.

Her fingers wrap around my forearm, and she squeezes. "Kline could be involved."

"You need to talk to your boss." She's in danger. Detective Dickhead's comment makes a lot more sense now.

"He is my boss."

I grab the bill of my hat, pulling it lower over my face. "Then talk to your boss's boss. Anyone. Someone."

"I have a plan." She pulls her thumb to her mouth, nibbling on the nail. "Kind of. I just need to make sure. I couldn't find any more patients, any proof—until I came in this morning and snooped around in his office." She perches on the edge of the table and gets lost in thought. "I found this." She tosses a handwritten list of names onto the table next to her laptop.

This is a lot to take in. A lot that doesn't make sense. There are two sets of handwriting. Notes scribbled beside each patient's name. And Carrie. Jessie. Tara. Along with another name and a question mark. This explains even more.

"The three of them worked on all of those patient's cases at some point. I found a couple of files right after the allegation, but they went missing. I didn't think Kline would be this careless, but that list was in his top drawer, right next to a couple of these."

She pulls out a handful of metal pins with two snakes entwined beneath a set of wings.

"It's a caduceus. We all wear them. But they keep finding them on the bodies. Derrick said Tara had one in her palm."

The seat groans in protest as I pull it over and plop onto it. I settle my elbows on my knees and drop my head into my hands.

"I'm looking for answers." She stands from the corner of the table, grabbing her laptop.

"What if there aren't any? If it's taken this long for him to get caught—" I close my eyes and drop my head.

"There are always answers. We just need to know how to ask the right questions. There has to be a logical explanation. But I don't know what it is."

"I should go. Liam's by himself. What are you going to do about this?" I take her brother's file from the table and offer it to her.

"I'm not sure yet." She fiddles with the ring on her pinkie finger, taking the chart and setting it on top of her laptop beside Liam's. "I need more proof."

"That isn't enough?"

"I just found these." She adjusts the badge around her neck, averting her gaze as she sets her hand on top of the files and laptop.

"What aren't you telling me?"

She drops her eyes to the floor. "It's nothing."

I sit on the corner of the table beside her, lifting her chin so our eyes meet. "I'm here to help. He can't get away with this."

She swallows and whispers, "Agreed. But I need to catch him in the act." She doesn't need to elaborate. She has a plan, that much is clear.

"That's where Liam comes in," I say, offering him up as a sacrifice.

"No. I don't want him more involved than he already is."

"But I can help." Both of us flip around to the sound of Liam's voice.

He struts into the room, an all-knowing grin on his face.

"There's no way. I won't risk it. I'll find another way." Her grip on the laptop tightens, her knuckles turning white. "I thought you went upstairs."

The corner of Liam's mouth quirks up. "I got off the elevator. I never thought I'd use those arrow open buttons. Who knew?"

"How much did you hear?" Her hands ball into fists at her sides.

"Why didn't you tell me your test was inconclusive?" Liam directs the question to me while simultaneously answering her question. "Did you get another one?"

"Didn't think about it, and yes," I answer.

"I have everything under control." Brighton points toward the door, trying to get us to leave.

"Tell me you have a better idea than using me," Liam says, throwing his arms wide seconds before another fit of coughs overtakes him.

She closes her eyes and pinches the bridge of her nose, as if trying to stave off an oncoming headache. "You don't understand the pressure I'm under." She releases a long, heavy sigh and shakes her head, avoiding eye contact.

"But we can help." I toss around the idea of Liam being on the inside, even though I don't like it. There has to be something we can do.

"It's against protocol." Her voice lowers. "I wasn't supposed to keep you."

I frown. "Liam?"

She drops her gaze to the floor, leaning against the wall next to the door. "We refer ES patients over the age of sixteen."

Realization hits me like a ton of bricks.

She kept him.

For me.

"Are you in trouble?" Liam asks.

She shakes her head, saying no, but the tension in her shoulders says otherwise. "Dr. Matthews told me to transfer you, but after I explained everything, he agreed I could keep your case."

"Is there a reason you don't keep older ES patients?" I ask.

She twists the ring on her pinkie finger, her eyes meeting mine. And I can tell she doesn't want to tell me.

"I can handle it," I say as Liam starts coughing. He holds up a finger, hacking into his fist.

Her eyes meet mine. "Because of the remission rate."

"Being below fifteen percent."

She nods toward the door, taking Liam by the arm. "You need an X-ray."

"Fine. But I'm serious, I want to help." Liam pulls out of her grasp, rubbing a fist over his chest.

Brighton lets out an exasperated breath as she points at the door. "Get the X-ray. I'll check in on you later. I need to think." She presses her fingers into her temple, closing her eyes.

Liam and I lock eyes, agreeing without saying a word. "I'll meet you upstairs," he says as he exits the room.

I lean toward her, placing a hand above her head on the doorframe as I tuck a finger under her chin. I lift her face, her eyes meeting mine. "We can figure this out together. We won't get you in trouble. We still have the best doctor in the nation."

"I don't want to draw any extra attention. Dr. Matthews is keeping tabs, and I don't need our interactions added to the list. We need to keep things professional. Someone's always watching." She drops her gaze and takes a step away, clearing her throat. I get the feeling there's something she's not telling me. But I let it slide.

"Of course." I push off the wall, creating a distance between us.

"You should check on Liam," she says, entering the hallway. "Take him home and make sure he rests. I'll see you guys on Monday."

"What are you going to do?" I trail after her, jogging to catch up as she stops in front of the elevator.

It dings, and the doors open instantly. I step inside and she holds her hand out, so they don't close. "Go home and figure out what to do next. Please make sure Liam gets the X-ray and infusion. I'll catch up with you later."

The doors glide together, and our gaze stays locked until they close, and I lean against the back wall, trying to take in everything that just happened. My phone buzzes from my back pocket.

"Hey, I'm out front."

"What do you mean you're out front?"

The sound of traffic and a horn blaring confirm my suspicion. Of course, Liam would ignore what Brighton had to say. "Why didn't you go upstairs to get an X-ray?"

"It's just a little cough. I can get it on Monday. And besides, I have a plan."

"Of course you do." I jam my thumb into the L for the lobby, knowing I have to go up two more flights before it starts the return.

"I'm being serious. Hurry up." He clears his throat.

"I'll meet you out front in a few minutes." I hang up, watching as the doors glide open and close on the next floor. I don't understand his train of thought. We come in because he passed out. Maybe the cough has something to do with it. But nothing with Liam is ever urgent.

The doors continue their routine three more times before I'm able to exit and make my way out of the lobby. Liam's leaning against a cab next to the curb and waves when he spots me. He heads toward me, meeting me halfway.

He holds up both hands, his brows drawn together, as his eyes dart from one spot to another, scanning the area. "Before you say anything, I need you to listen. And don't kill me, okay?"