Chapter 25

I'm donewith my job at Kovak's clinic.

I had been scheduled to work a few days after Thanksgiving weekend, but I didn't show up, and I ignored his calls. I can't imagine ever going back there. The thought makes me sick.

Instead, I head to the library at school to get some studying in. I've been keeping my head above water, but without a part-time job, maybe I could do even better. Maybe I could be at the top of the class, like Mason. I've earned enough money from my time with Kovak that I could take a few months off.

Heather and I usually study together, but she has been avoiding me since she caught me with those bloody scrubs. I figure I'll give her a few more days, and maybe she'll forget all about it.

Yeah, right.

Mason is usually at the library, so I search for him instead. I go through every single aisle of the library looking for him. I finally find my lab partner, Sasha, in the last aisle.

I've seen Sasha and Mason hook up. I'm not supposed to know about it, and Mason has been surprisingly close-lipped about the whole thing, but I once caught them coming out of the anatomy locker room together, and you could just tell. It's funny, because those two are the last couple I would've expected to start hooking up. I would have thought Sasha would know better.

"Have you seen Mason?" I ask her.

She's so small that I have to bend my neck nearly at a right angle to look her in the eyes.

A crease forms between Sasha's brows. "No, I haven't." She bites her lip. "Have you?"

I shake my head. Obviously not.

"If you see him," Sasha says, "could you tell him that I… I'd like to see him?"

It's no surprise that Mason is treating her like crap. She is way too nice for him.

"I'll tell him," I promise her, even though lecturing Mason on his love life is pretty low on my priority list.

Just as I'm settling down at an empty table to study by myself, my phone start ringing. The number for Kovak's clinic pops up on the phone, and I send it to voicemail. But then he calls again.

I should pick up. The responsible thing to do is to tell him that I'm quitting. That he will never see me again. I'll tell him that, and then I will block his number.

"Abe," he says on the other end of the line. "Weren't you scheduled to work tonight? We're pretty busy here."

"I was," I admit. "But the truth is, this job isn't really working out for me anymore, you know? So this is my notice."

"Huh." He's quiet for a moment. "Notice doesn't really work that way. Usually, you give somebody notice, and then you work for a little while longer, so they have a chance to find somebody new."

He's not wrong. But I would think given the circumstances, the rules don't really apply.

I grit my teeth. "Fine. How long do you need?"

"How about you work until I say you can stop."

A cold sensation slithers down my spine. "But…"

"Abe," he says, "you know I've got a camera set up in the waiting room of the clinic, right?"

My mouth falls open. I never saw a camera in the waiting room, but it makes sense he'd have one. He doesn't say the words, but the implication of what the camera picked up is clear.

I'm screwed.

"What do you want?" I manage.

"Hey, look, we're in this together, Abe," he says in an irritatingly casual voice. "I just need you to understand that. If you give me your loyalty, then we're good."

"Fine," I growl at him. "You have my loyalty."

"Fantastic. I'll see you in fifteen minutes."

I bury my face in my hands. I made a terrible mistake—I should have gotten away from there while I still could. Before, the worst that could have happened was being slapped with a drug charge. Now I've killed someone—I could go to prison for the rest of my life.

I'm trapped.

And what about Patrice? I told her what I suspected about the clinic, and she's "looking into it." What if she discovers what I've done?

This is a problem. She is a problem.

I'll figure out a way to deal with it later, though. For now, I've got to get to work.

When I get down to the hospital parking lot, I end up running into Mason. He's all alone, not dressed nearly warm enough for the weather. Even I'm wearing a coat, and I never get cold. But he doesn't seem like he even notices that it's twenty degrees out.

I walk toward him, even though he's in the opposite direction of my car. He's pacing back and forth rapidly, and as I get closer, I hear him mumbling to himself. He almost looks like he's on drugs, although I've never seen him at the clinic. I can't make out exactly what he's saying, but I get these chills that have nothing to do with the cold. I get this feeling that maybe I shouldn't bother Mason right now.

After all, I've got enough problems of my own.