51. Better Left Unsaid

51

Better Left Unsaid

Brighton

Monday, June 12 th

10:19 a.m.

There is a choice in life. Either get stuck in the chaos, drowning in the hopeless swamps of the not yet and the not at all, or let the hero in your soul break free.

I'm ready.

And sick of waiting.

Why is this taking so freaking long? Luca's secretary glances at me for the umpteenth time and offers me a faint smile. My insides are kicking and screaming to get things rolling.

I double-check that the brother's two files are beside me in the chair and log in to my computer before I pull up Liam's recent scan, ensuring I have all the facts straight before I show Luca.

The images show the mass in his right lung. Dammit, I pulled up the old CT. I close the file and click on the CT from Friday. I lean closer to the screen and zoom in on the photo.

There's only one mass.

That can't be right. I scroll to the top of the screen to check the dates on the scan.

There's only one mass.

I click the X at the top right of the screen and open the scan from the beginning of May. Am I seeing things?

I slide the program to half the screen, open the new CT, and stare.

I hold up the tip of my pen to measure what I've found.

It's smaller. And there's only one.

The chemo is working.

I lean against the back of the seat, crossing my arms over my middle. What the actual fuck?

I pull Liam's chart from beside me. I flip to Kline's scribbled notes. To the CT. His X-rays. The radiologist's findings.

There's no way I missed this.

Kline lied.

I knew it.

I stand from the chair, sliding my laptop across the secretary's desk. "Can I print this?"

Shock registers across her face as she clutches at her chest, not realizing my proximity. "What is it?" She wiggles her mouse to life to look busy.

"A patient's file."

"The whole thing?"

"A few pages." I try not to come across as rude, but sense I fail when her eyes drop from mine to the straight line of my lips.

"You can try the air printer. It works half the time." She ushers me back, pushing my laptop toward me.

"What's the password?"

Luca's door swings open, and I whip around as Robert comes strolling out, still in conversation with Luca.

What an ironic twist of luck . . .

"Ah, Dr. Fields. We were just talking about you."

"All good, I hope?" I snatch my laptop from her desk, using it as a shield.

"The depositions start in a couple of weeks. The evidence we've gathered clears your name. We were figuring out some last-minute details. Discussing your testimony and if we need it."

Did he say what I think he did? I'm getting so close! Am I doing all this for nothing?

I stare at him, afraid to speak. I'm not sure if the words that surface in my mind are appropriate to say out loud. My stomach sinks as an avalanche of ice cools my insides. The thought of being on the stand and getting to testify against Kline is what I've been waiting for. And they better not take that from me.

Luca joins him at the door. "Brighton. Just the person I wanted to see."

The two of them shake hands, and Luca claps Robert on the back. "Let me know if you need to go over anything else."

He says goodbye to the secretary as Luca guides me into his office.

"What's going on? Are you okay?" The deep worry in his voice is authentic, and I try to compose myself because I'm not here to discuss the deposition.

"I know Kline made me take time—"

"He said you requested a break. That the pressure of the deposition and a couple of special care patients was wearing on you."

White-hot anger courses through me. This has to stop. I can appreciate the twist on Kline's intentions, but I won't take his crap anymore. My hands tremble, and I can't shake the feeling that I'm on to something. I just need the chance to explain what else I've found.

The vision of how this plays out materializes in my mind so quickly that I can barely catch my breath before words start spouting out of my mouth. "I found more patients. And have information about Carrie and Jessie and—"

Luca's eyes widen as he guides me to a chair at the front of his desk, waiting until the door is closed before he speaks. "Be careful what you say around others." He gestures for me to take a seat and slides into his own, his eyes boring into me. "You have privileged information."

I slide my computer across his desk, facing the screen in his direction.

He leans across his paperwork, settling his elbows on the desktop, his attention on the screen.

I click to pull up the first file.

Grady Fields.

The evidence sits at the bottom of the surgical note. Kline's signature and the date.

"What is this?" Luca leans closer, tracing his finger across the bottom of the screen.

"That's where this all started."

"Your brother." A flicker of confusion spreads across his eyes before it slips into concern.

I swallow the knot in my throat, click the X at the top of the screen, and open Julie West's file. I click on her CT scan and rotate the screen toward him.

"Another one?" Luca's distracted, but I need him to focus. I snap my fingers to get him to pay attention, and his nostrils flare when our eyes meet. I can only imagine what he's thinking and how this throws the case wide open.

"Of many."

He scans the report, pinches his eyes closed.

"There was a list in his desk drawer. All of them except Fields and Blakely are on it. And Carrie, Jessie, and Tara helped on one or more of their cases." I click through the patient's charts, Luca's face going paler as he appreciates the weight of the evidence I've uncovered.

"He only does it when I'm in surgery with him. Except with Grady. And he's changed information in Blakely's chart too."

I try to swallow the lump in my throat and race back to the waiting area, grabbing the two files I left in the seat.

"Misdiagnosis. Incorrect testing protocols. Failing to refer to the proper specialists," I spout off the information as I re-enter, too eager to wait until the door closes.

"Kline's killing his patients." His words are barely audible. He slumps in his chair, his face shifting to a pallid color of ash. He wipes the palm of his hand across his clammy forehead, clearing his throat. "How long have you known?"

I grab Liam's charts, flip to the CT scan, and skim the radiology findings until I find what I'm looking for.

"He did it here too." I slide the chart over the desk into Luca's waiting hands.

"But he hasn't had surgery."

"Not yet."

"So, why would he be messing with this patient?"

"To mess with me." I assume and swallow the thought that this could be an over-the-top assessment.

Luca drops his gaze, shakes his head.

"Abbie Barkly. Wrong lab tests. No MRI. Misinterpreted findings. Surgery for a mass that didn't exist." I read the conclusion of the next patient on the screen.

Luca closes his eyes.

"Jason Pritchard—no follow-up after abnormal test results. Emergent surgery after Stage IV cancer findings on CT."

"How did you find these?"

"On this." I slide the tattered sheet of paper to him. "The similarities continue. Patient after patient after patient. Misdiagnosis, incorrect testing, unnecessary surgery, loss of life."

"People don't give you enough credit," Luca says with a weary smile. He closes the laptop and offers me the two charts.

What the hell?

"What's that supposed to mean?" My thoughts unravel. Has he known about this? Why doesn't he care?

"I wondered how long it would take for you to figure it out, especially with everything else going on." He leans back in his chair, placing his pen in the breast pocket of his shirt.

"You knew he was behind this?"

He leans across his desk, clasping his hands together. "But we had to wait."

"I have all this proof." I toss the two files back onto his desk and slide the laptop to him.

"I understand your frustrations." His brow creases, his sickly pallor changing to a reddish hue when he clenches his jaw. "But I didn't know about this." He runs his finger over the names of the doctors on the list.

"I was making sure."

"This changes things."

"I've talked to the detectives, and I found these." I spread the four polaroids in front of him.

His jaw drops open. He lifts one and then the next. He closes his eyes, pushing them back toward me. "Where?"

I scoop up the photos of Carrie, Jessie, Tara, and Nell, putting them in order with the first three on top and Nell at the bottom.

He picks up the phone and presses a button, holding up a hand for me to wait. "Bea? Can you call Dr. Matthews, please?"

My heart jumps into my throat. "No, not yet." I have a clear vision of how things are supposed to go but failed to consider Luca jumping the gun before I'm ready.

"I need this. Can you leave it?" He reaches for my laptop, running his finger across the pad to bring it back to life. He doesn't offer an explanation, but the look I get tells me it's detrimental to his plan.

"What about these?" I slide both Blakely charts to him.

"I'll hold on to them for safekeeping."

I stand, feeling dismissed, as he continues staring at my screen. A voice in the back of my mind screams that it's not wise to leave my laptop after the scolding I got from Eugene. And I reach for it, shocked when Luca pulls it out of my reach.

The page for Dr. Matthews to come to HR vibrates through the static on the overhead system.

"You should go. I don't want you crossing paths." Luca shuts my computer and tucks it under some papers next to his phone. There's something unnerving about his tone. "Can I have that?" He points at the paper I have crumpled in my hand. He tries to tug it from between my fingers as the thought crosses my mind that he's taking all my evidence, and I tighten my grip.

"You already know about them. I want to keep this." I stuff it in my front scrub pocket along with the polaroids and focus on his face, curious why he's so determined to keep the evidence I've collected.

"Robert will want to see it."

I search his eyes for any sign that I've made a mistake. But he gives nothing away. Our eyes stay locked until he clears his throat.

"And he can, but not yet. You have everything you need there." I point at the laptop and files.

The entire look on his face transforms, his expression bordering on fury, but it's quickly replaced by uncontrollable frustration.

His reaction makes everything tilt and shift. "What's going on?" I push back in the seat, stumbling as I try to stand.

"I told you I'd keep you out of this. Make sure your name got cleared." He wipes a hand down his face.

"If you know about all this, you shouldn't need my laptop." I reach across his desk to grab it when his hand flies out to stop me.

The shadow of a grin spreads at the corner of his mouth. "I was going to tell you that you don't have to testify, but"—he holds up both hands in my direction—"I got sidetracked. Good news."

Our eyes meet and the look he gives me tells me I don't have a choice. I wish I could take back my decision to come to him with this. I pull at the laptop in a tug-of-war with Luca, swallowing the tightness in my throat as I squint through the sting of tears.

"I'll get this back to you before the end of the day." He lets go of my wrist and the blood rushes back into my hand, the icy tingle pulsing through my fingers.

"You don't understand. I need your help." I pry his fingers off my laptop and pull it to my chest. "Trust me."

I explain my plan. The importance of the phone call to warn me. And how the timing of this is everything. Luca agrees. That was the only thing holding me back, and now, nothing stands in my way.

He doesn't like it, but he decides it could work. I rub at the stinging sensation on my wrist and see the instant regret on Luca's face as I take my laptop and files. This case has to be wearing on him too. I can't be the only one it's affecting.

But I am the only one who can make it stop.