48. One Wrong Move

48

One Wrong Move

Brighton

Monday, June 12 th

8:30 a.m.

"Why the hell don't I have access?" I chuck my badge across Kline's desk. It hits him square in the chest, and I instantly regret letting my emotions overtake me.

"Looks like you're here. Must have some access." He doesn't look up from the chart in front of him. He slides his glasses up the crook of his nose, grabs my badge from the top of the charts he's working on; scribbles in someone's chart and holds up my badge for me to take.

I rip it free from his grasp and swallow around a tight ball of emotion. "I can't log in to the computer." I bite out each word as I lean forward, placing my hands on his desk.

"You're overstepping bounds."

"And?" I want to wipe the satisfied smirk off his smug little face.

"You're in over your head." He pushes back from his desk, stands, and drops the apathetic fa?ade as he passes me and enters the hall.

If he wants me to come out guns-a-blazing, he doesn't know what he's getting himself into. That's it—there's no way in hell I'm letting him anywhere near Liam.

"Coming?" He peeks his head back inside the door, waiting for me to follow. "It's an easy fix." He takes hold of the badge around my neck and grins.

I stride past him, not making eye contact as the force of my passing rips the lanyard from his hand. Footsteps trail after me, but I keep a distance between us as I try to keep my anger from boiling over.

"We felt you needed some time to think. Seems like you've been making rash decisions, not following protocol, acting without thinking."

"Who the hell is we ?" I bite out, stopping in the hall as I whirl around on him.

He holds up both hands, fighting a smirk. "Me and Eugene." The implication is clear. He's trying to remind me he's in control and put me in my place.

"I knew it was you," I say, stabbing a finger at his chest.

"I asked him to restrict your access, so you'd have to come see me." He ignores my accusation. "This case you're working, Blakely. I'm concerned."

"Everything is fine."

"Is it, though? Your decision-making shows otherwise. You leave your keys lying around. And your email open—"

"What decision?"

"Keeping Liam."

"I'm not getting into this with you again. I know what I'm doing."

"I'm not sure you do." Kline opens the cream-colored folder in his hands and skims the pages as we walk down the hall toward the oncology floor. "Anything we need to discuss?"

Is this a trap? Is he trying to get me to confess to something? Or did Liam already stop by?

My silence pulls his attention from the folder.

"Is that a yes?" He skims a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair while he waits for my response.

I shake my head and try to keep what I'm thinking off my face. If he were observant, he'd see that my balled fists and stiff posture are a dead giveaway that he's on to something.

"Liam came by a little while ago. You just missed him." That explains things. He closes the chart, tucks it under his arm, and stops in the middle of the hall.

I swallow the lump in my throat. The urge to pull my phone from my pocket to call and tell Dax the plan is off has me spiraling as regret sinks low in my stomach.

After a moment, he asks, "Have you talked to him?" His gaze moves over my shoulder to the door leading to the main floor. His eyebrows arch when he sees something, but I keep my focus on him.

"No." I fidget while I stand there, fighting to maintain my composure.

"Is everything going well?"

"Yes." This is what I need, so why does it feel so wrong?

"Nothing out of the ordinary?"

"Nope." I find him staring.

"Why would he ask to change doctors, then? Any ideas?"

My heartbeat rages through my eardrums. This is not how I imagined this going. I try to formulate why Liam would have asked to change doctors since we didn't get to that the other night, but my tongue is heavy and slathered in cotton.

"I told him I'd take him, although he should have been a referral from the beginning. If he wants to change providers, it's none of my business. I just wanted to make sure it has nothing to do with you ."

"It doesn't." My voice feels small, emotion thickening as I clear my throat. I don't want to give away what we have planned. "If Liam wants that, I would never hold him back."

"He said it was personal. Do you have any ideas why he'd ask to change?"

The more I explore potential explanations, the more it doesn't make sense. With the malpractice, my insistence on keeping Liam, and the treatment already being underway, it's no wonder Kline's suspicious.

"Because of the news broadcast." The idea flits into my mind, and it's an instant winner. I made a complete fool of myself on TV and may regret this later, but it is a reasonable motive for him to want to change. Yes, I'm totally throwing myself under the bus, and yes, the look on Kline's face confirms it, but it's the only thing that makes sense.

Kline rolls his shoulders back and flexes his jaw. But that's all the reaction I get from him before he takes off down the hall without mentioning that he saw the recording and how I acted on live TV. "He has an infusion at nine. We'll move forward with the dates you have outlined. I haven't worked an ES case since your brother. This is why I suggested we do a referral, but it's too late for that now."

"I can help in any way you need," I say, my desperation seeping into my words. I hope my lie sounds more convincing than I actually feel.

I will take Liam back, but this is one step in the direction I need things to go. There's no way I'm going to let Kline have him and not keep a close eye on things. This really is the perfect plan. And with me staying involved, it won't be at Liam's expense. My paranoia has me convinced that Liam's idea may be over the top, but I don't think we have any other choice.

I step around him and pull the door open. Kline grabs my arm, pulling me to a standstill and offering me the chart in his hand.

It's Liam's.

I should have figured. I make my way toward the elevators, my head buried in the file. Everything is exactly as I had it before. One week for recovery after the chemo, a CT scan, and surgery. Kline hasn't changed a thing.

"There's one more thing." Kline's voice draws me to a stop, and I pull myself from the file, giving him my attention. "I can't figure out why you think it's okay to talk to the detectives behind my back."

"Everyone has talked to the detectives," I say with a dismissive roll of my eyes. I can feel the nurses and patients staring at us. I try to play off that I'm aware of his suspicion and jam my finger into the elevator call button. He stops next to me, and we stand in silence as we wait.

"But you're a little more vested in this, aren't you?" The doors slide open, and he steps onto the elevator.

"I don't know what you're talking about." I join him, lean against the back wall, and close my eyes. My heart thuds against my ribcage. Why did I agree to be with him alone?

"The lawsuit."

My mind instantly goes to the murders. He has to realize that's what this is about, but his lack of awareness of the situation has me second-guessing. Maybe Hudson was right, and they do have the wrong guy.

"I don't know what you think you have, but you've got it all wrong."

I bite back the tight sensation in my throat. "Why are you doing this?"

"I'm looking out for your best interest."

"What happened to looking out for the best interest of our patients and coworkers?"

"That too." He balls his hands into fists at his sides, flexing his fingers.

"I have the proof."

"I don't know what you think you have, but it's not enough." He doesn't mention the list. But why? Could someone else have planted it for me to find?

"Why are you doing this?" I ball my hands into fists as we step off the elevator and make our way to IT.

"To prove a point. It's my word against yours."

"You did this on purpose."

"I did this? No, no, no. You did this," he says, spit flying out of his mouth as he leans in, his beet-red face inches from mine.

I can't get my mind to work in conjunction with my mouth as it flies through a million different scenarios.

The disheveled appearance.

The mood swings.

Margo's random presence.

I start to fit the pieces together of how Kline plays into everything—but I'm two seconds too late.

Eugene swings open the door, his surprise etched across his face at finding us outside. "I wasn't expecting you two. Dr. Matthews, Dr. Fields." His eyes bounce between the two of us. "Is everything okay?"

I want to scream that it's not, but the look I get from Kline tells me I'd be wiser not to. Bile builds up in my throat as I struggle to understand his intentions.

"Fine," Kline says, directing me to take a seat in front of Eugene's desk. "We're here to restore access. I appreciate you taking care of that for me."

"Of course. Glad you two figured everything out. I was worried about the breach." Eugene offers a timid smile, dropping his eyes to the computer screen as he takes a seat. My suspicions about Kline's involvement were correct.

Kline towers above me, placing his hands on my shoulders, telling me to stay quiet.

"This explains your email mishap. It would be best if you didn't hand out your password. It's against HIPAA . . ." Eugene says as his fingers fly across the keyboard. His mouth continues moving, but nothing overrides the static in my ears.

Kline's trying to destroy my career.