52. All in Vain

52

All in Vain

Brighton

Monday, June 12 th

11:26 a.m.

"When Luca calls, tell me. Don't wait."

"I don't like this." Lauren stalls with her hand on her hip when she comes out from behind the counter.

"You don't have to."

"But—"

"I don't have any other options. Kline's not stupid enough to do anything. There are too many witnesses." I stuff my hand in the front pocket of my scrubs, confirming the list is still there, and tighten my grip on the laptop. This is the part of the plan I haven't thought out, and the realization that it could all go wrong at this point makes me queasy. "I need to finish signing some charts. I'll be in the lounge."

"Please, wait. I'm sure they can catch him in some other way." Lauren wrings her hands together, her brow creased with concern. She pulls me in for a hug, and I let the warmth of her embrace quash my nerves. I've made up my mind and know my plan will work. It has to. There is no other option.

"I don't want anything to happen to anyone else." I get one last squeeze before she lets go. We stand there staring at each other until her gaze falls to her feet. I don't give her the chance to say anything else before I swipe my badge and enter the hallway. I press myself against the door as it closes and try to regroup.

She's right. My plan's not failsafe. And I don't know the extent to which Kline will take things to protect himself. But I have to do this. I don't want him to have access to patients anymore, and this is all I've got. No matter how bad things get, I remind myself this isn't on me. I hope one day I can look back on this decision and know it wasn't a mistake.

I pull out my phone and stare at the black screen while I process what I need to say. This is where things get tricky. I don't have the evidence directly tying Kline to the murders. And my next step will set things in motion.

Yes, he dated all three—four if you count Nell—of the women on this list.

The list is too much of a coincidence.

And Phillip mentioned the shooting range.

I don't have more than that.

Just a hunch.

And the possibility Kline will implicate himself.

I enter the doctors' lounge and set my laptop on the counter, rolling my finger across the mouse pad to bring it to life as I dial Hudson.

A young female voice answers the phone; her tone clipped and intolerant.

"This is Rachel. How may I direct your call?"

I clear my throat. "Detective Roark, please."

"He's unavailable at the moment. Would you like to leave a message?"

"Yes, please. This is Dr. Fields. I have some new information for him," I say, repeating the words I was told to say verbatim.

She pauses, and clicking on a keyboard fills my ears before she asks, "Can you hold?"

She cuts me off before I can reply, the sound of her voice replaced with obnoxious elevator music. I wait . . . and wait. I glance at the clock on the wall. This is taking longer than it's supposed to, and Kline could show at any second.

The longer I'm on hold, the more this seems like a bad idea. I pull the phone from my ear to make sure I didn't lose the call and try to organize my thoughts.

An incoming text pops up at the top of my screen, and Dax's face flutters to the forefront of my mind like a rabid butterfly.

Dax: Can I bring you lunch?

Shit. Shit. Shit. He can't be here. His part of my plan is over, and I don't want him around, just in case. I fumble through a response of what to type back when there's an interruption to my thoughts.

"Hello?" A husky voice fills the phone, a little breathy and on edge. "This is Roark. Dr. Fields?"

"Yeah, I'm here."

"Sorry, we were in a briefing. Told Rachel to get me if anyone called regarding the hospital cases. You have something for me?" I appreciate his ploy of acting like this isn't part of our plan since he's at work with prying ears.

"Ten, fifteen minutes, and the answer will be yes." Once I set this in motion, I won't be able to make it stop. Hudson said he needs more than the list, but I don't know if what I'm about to do will be enough and if it will work.

"Could you hang on a sec? I need to shut my door."

There's a brief silence, and the sound of a copier fills my ears, along with some joking in the background. There are multiple voices and a telephone ringing before it all goes silent.

"You still there?" he whispers when he returns. "Wait. You said you already have what I need."

"I mentioned an idea of how to get you what you need. And I need ten to fifteen more minutes. Wait until then. If you come any earlier, it could mess everything up."

He gives me a deep, throaty snigger. "I don't know what you're planning, but please don't make me regret giving you the green light."

An uproar of raised voices in the hall behind me pulls my attention from the phone. As it gets louder, my heartbeat quickens. I double-check that my computer is recording and step to the side to make sure it captures the entire room. I can't make out the voices, but I have my suspicions. I cup my hand over the phone and try to make sense of the heated conversation. I knew I was right. But what happened to letting me know he was on his way?

"Don't be late." I hang up, not giving Hudson the chance to talk me out of what I'm about to do.

The hallway door slams open, creating a jarring sound that makes me recoil.

"Dr. Fields?" Kline's booming voice fills the corridor, along with a muffled argument from Lauren, as the sound of scuffling feet and hurried footsteps starts the ball rolling without my consent.

"Dr. Matthews, stop!"

He darts through the doorway of the doctors' lounge and freezes when he finds me with a smile on my face. I stay leaned against the counter, my arms and legs crossed, as if I've been waiting for him to arrive. His eyes bounce from my face to the open laptop behind me.

Lauren races to catch up and stops inside the doorway, out of breath and fuming. Kline turns on her, and she backs out of the lounge. Once she's out of the doorway, he says, "We'll be out in a few."

She goes to argue, but I nod, letting her know it's okay to leave. I don't like this any more than she does, but he's playing right into my hands.

He closes the door and leans his forehead against it, his shoulders quaking with anger.

"You didn't think I knew, did you?" I try not to sound snarky, but I'm sure I fail. I need to pace myself. I don't want to play my cards too early.

The question catches him off guard, and he takes three full seconds before he turns to face me. "You think you know what's going on, but you have no idea."

I stare at him, afraid to speak, blinking to make sure my brain isn't making up this entire situation.

He rolls his sleeves as he lumbers toward me.

I have to fight the urge to run. I press the heels of my hands to my eyes and start second-guessing my timeline and how long it will take for Hudson to show up. Maybe I should have waited.

Kline's dark-rimmed eyes narrow, and his lips fall into a straight line as he lunges for me, and I turn, trying to escape his grasp. He clamps onto the waistband of my scrubs and yanks as I fight to rip free, and he collides with the cabinets.

The photos skitter across the floor. Fuck. That wasn't supposed to happen. I hold up both hands, both our eyes glued to the polaroids.

"Stop. You don't want to do this." I hold up my hands in surrender as I walk backward. He crawls across the floor, gathering each picture.

"Where did you get these?"

"The back of your filing cabinet."

He wipes a hand down his face, shaking his head. "You have it all wrong. Do you see the date? The X's next to the ones who were murdered?" His questions stun me into silence as he flings them at me, and they scatter across the lounge. I've kept information from Hudson, hiding evidence I have on the investigation to use when I need it. And now I'm second-guessing if it was a good idea. "Did you think you're the only one looking into this?"

That doesn't make sense. Who hangs on to photos like this? A serial killer who has photos for trophies, that's who.

He pulls himself up and sweeps a hand across the counter, flinging my laptop to the floor without breaking eye contact. The screen goes black as it skitters across the linoleum.

I continue to keep a distance between us, my shoulders stiffening as the knot in my throat tightens, and I try to come up with a way to gather the photos.

"They won't believe you," he says as he follows me around the room until he corners me next to the fridge and counter. He sniffles and rubs his eyes as he juts his lip out. I try to stay calm, err on the side of caution. The last thing I want is to provoke him too soon. He places both hands on the wall on either side of my head and stares at me.

"They don't have to. They can see it with their own eyes." I grit my teeth and twist away from him, trying to create space between us as I stare into the camera in the corner above the sink and hope that it's working.

"Shut. Up." He slaps a hand against the wall beside my head, and I freeze, pinching my eyes closed when he leans in; his face is barely an inch from mine.

I shove at his chest, but he pushes in closer instead of backing off. My phone chimes with an incoming text, and I pause as the sound draws Kline's attention from me. He presses his body against mine, trapping me against the wall, while one hand covers my mouth and the other frantically searches for my phone.

"Is it your boyfriend?"

I gulp and smack at his hand as it trails up my waist and into the front pocket of my scrubs.

"What's this?" He holds up the crumpled sheet of paper, his jaw clenching as the realization hits. He steps away from me, raking a hand through his hair.

I edge toward the door, knowing I'm not safe if I stay here. None of this has gone as planned, and I don't think I can wait until someone arrives.

He catches my movement out of the corner of his eye and darts for me. I let out a yelp when his hand catches hold of my wrist, and whip around as I kick out, my foot connecting with his chest, throwing him off balance as he grabs my ankle and pulls me to him.

"You fucking bitch."

"Is that what you said to Carrie? Tara?"

Confusion bleeds into his eyes, and he lets me go as he takes a step back. His sudden understanding of what I'm implying is clear when our eyes meet.

"You think I did that?" Disbelief and pain spread across his face as he pushes his glasses up the crook of his nose, shakes his head, and curls his hands into fists. "What's wrong with you?"

My phone chimes with the unchecked text, and red-hot anger climbs Kline's neck. He rushes toward me, taking the phone from my pocket and hurling it across the lounge. We both watch as it slides across the floor and lands next to the door.

"You have a wild imagination, but I would never." He stalks toward me and stops in front of me to where I've creeped a couple inches along the counter. "I was keeping track. Like. You. You showed this to Luca."

"And the detectives."

"You don't know what you're doing, what you've gotten yourself into. This isn't just about the murders anymore. Or the malpractice. You'll look as guilty as I do."

I reach for the door handle, and Kline steps in front of me.

"But I had nothing to do with any of this."

"It's your word against mine." He flaps the sheet of paper in my face. "You were present for every case and every surgery. Your signature is at the bottom of every note. Did you do this?" He points at the five names I scrawled next to his list of patients and chuckles.

"I know you're involved." I pinch my lips together and straighten my spine.

"You're an accomplice." A cocky grin spreads across his face. "You've known for too long and haven't done anything." He pinches my jaw, and I groan from the force as I try to pry back his fingers. I grab a hold of his wrist, trying to get him to let go, but it doesn't help. He tightens his grip and leans in closer. He set me up. And my reaction gives me away. "Why don't you listen to me?" he asks, voice tight. He drops his hand, my face burning.

"You dated them. They're dead. You said to watch out, and I dug deeper." The words pour from my mouth, along with flecks of spit, as I flex my jaw and try to rub away the ache.

"I told you to keep your mouth shut." The foul smell of his breath tumbles over my face, and I cringe, trying to suck in air through my mouth.

"You didn't think I could figure it out, but I did." Seconds after the words are out of my mouth, I wish I could take them back. The look I get says that egging him on is not in my best interest.

"Don't make me remind you I can break every bone in your body"—he grabs my chin and jerks me to face him, stabbing a finger to my chest—" while naming them ."

"You're hurting me."

"That's the point." He traces a finger down the side of my face, and I pinch my eyes together.

Hudson, where are you?

Voices echo on the other side of the door, followed by footsteps, and my eyes whip toward it. The two of us pause as we listen. I silently beg for someone to come in, but the sound of their voices grows hazy as they continue down the hall and away from here.

"Fuck!" Kline bares his teeth. He lets me go and stalks around the room. He weaves his hands behind his head and smiles at me when he makes eye contact. The sound of a crunch makes me recoil when his shoe connects with my laptop.

He narrows his eyes and slams his hand onto the back of a chair, sending it flying across the room. My body coils like a spring when he comes closer. "You and your big mouth. You don't think I know what's going on? After all I've done for you?"

"I never asked you to." A tear slips down my cheek as I try to stop the quiver in my voice.

"Where would you be today without me, huh? Behind bars? You think what I've been doing with my patients is any different from the stunt you pulled?"

"I wasn't trying to hurt Collins. What you're doing is different."

"But Collins is dead. And you did that." The comment is so matter-of-fact that I don't know what to do with it. He's not wrong, but there's so much more that he doesn't know.

"And I still wouldn't change the treatment I chose for him."

"I'm sure his family would love to hear that. Should we have them reopen the case? Maybe they'll figure out we covered it all up." His eyes meet mine.

" You covered it up." I refuse to blink, even though my eyes ache.

He slams a fist against the table between us. "For you," he says between gritted teeth.

"I never asked you to do that."

"But I did. I couldn't let my star pupil ruin her career with her first major case. Not that it was an actual mistake."

"What do you mean?"

"You're looking into all these patients, and you didn't think to check Collins' case? Did you really think you messed up? That I'd be allowed to keep you on here if you were the physician behind a death before you were out of residency?"

"What are you saying?"

"You didn't do anything wrong. I just made you think you did."

"And you've held it over me ever since." A guttural sob escapes from between my lips at my realization. I take a step back, putting some space between us.

He rounds the table and stops in front of me, our awkward dance around the room coming to a standstill as he jabs me in the chest again. "Just wanted to make sure you know your place. And remind you that I'm in control. It's not something I want you to forget."

"You can't use Collins' case against me."

"You sure about that? I seem to remember a certain someone finding evidence that suggests otherwise." He shakes the sheet of paper in the air, his eyes bouncing to the photos scattered on the floor.

He lunges for me, grabbing a fist full of hair and jerking me off my feet. I struggle to pull free as he backs me into the wall, my hands clawing at his fingers.

"You put the list there on purpose." It's not a question. He wanted me to find it. He started this before I ever got the chance.

"You have no idea what you've done." He doesn't confirm my accusation. "You fucked up everything!"

"Please, stop." Tears sting at the back of my eyes and everything blurs.

"I told you to stay quiet. Stay out of things, but you don't listen."

"We can fix this." I press my hands together, begging him to stop as I look into his eyes.

"I tried to keep you out of everything."

He loosens his grip on my hair, takes hold of my scrub shirt, and pulls me after him. I stumble forward, trying to yank out of his grasp, but his hands clench tighter.

"Let me go!" I flail in vain, kicking and pushing, trying to get him to stop.

"Shhhhh." He pushes me away, and I slam into the table, my head knocking against the top. "I need you to listen to what I'm saying. Listen ."

"Please, stop." I hold a hand up, scooting across the table with one foot, the edge of it the only barrier between us. I make it to the end, and he races alongside me, grabbing my chin and squeezing, forcing my teeth to cut into my cheeks as my mouth pops open from the pain. I cry out in agony and thrash against him as he drags me over the side and onto the floor, hovering above me.

"I told you not to do this."

I struggle against him, but the more I flail, the harder he holds on. I slam my fists into his chest, and he flinches, letting me go as he takes a step back. His eyes have morphed into two black voids, any trace of conviction now gone; he almost looks inhuman.

Time's up. I take my chance and roll to my side and race toward the door. My shoe slips against the linoleum and I slide, my back slamming into the cabinets as I fall, stopping, the door is just out of reach. A pained breath tears out of my mouth as I grab a hold of my side.

"Are you paying attention now?" Kline lurks closer, popping his knuckles.

"Please." I get out in broken syllables as my lungs try to adjust to the air being knocked out of them. He pushes himself on top of me, the pressure of his body on mine forcing any remaining breath out of me. I pound my fists against him over and over, unable to get him to get off me. "Why are you doing this?"

"To keep you humble. Divorce is expensive."

"But you're lying."

"Who do you think they'll believe, me or you? I'm the head of oncology. Until I got caught with Ms. Harrison, no one knew anything. And I plan to keep it that way."

He knows he has me under lock and key. There's no way I can say anything else without implicating myself.

I clench my jaw, squeezing a hand over my ribs as it gets harder to pull in air. I wipe my thumb across my lower lip when I taste blood. I'm always being forced to do shit I'm not qualified for—like be nice to fucking assholes. I thrash against him, but he doesn't budge.

He leans in, whispering into my ear, "Just a reminder—I know where you work. And live ."

Taunting him was a mistake. Trying to play detective and get him to confess was a mistake. Not only did I piss him off—but now he's taken things too far. He grabs my face and tries to get me to look at him, to confirm that I understand what he's saying, when the sudden release of his weight from my body gets me to open my eyes.

"Dax?"