Chapter 73

I didn't even realizeI had dozed off until the phone starts ringing. I open my eyes and take in the darkness of the room. Was it dark when I first went to sleep? I can't even remember anymore.

I only sleep in snatches of a couple of hours. If I could get a full eight hours of sleep, I'd feel like myself again. I even begged Abe for some pills to help me out, but he pretended he didn't know what I was talking about, like he wasn't a drug dealer. Everyone is lying to me.

I glance over at the computer, trying to remember what it is I had been reading when I drifted off. The phone is still ringing, and the sound is like nails on a chalkboard. I gingerly take the phone off the hook and hold it close to my ear, listening.

"Mason?"

It's my mother's voice. I try to answer, but my throat feels really dry, and no sound comes out of my mouth.

"Mason?"

"Hello," I finally manage.

"Oh, thank God," she says. "Are you all right? I haven't heard from you in weeks!"

"Yes," I say.

"How is school? How are your classes?"

"Fine."

"Sweetheart, you sound really tired," she says. "I know your dad puts a lot of pressure on you, but you need to take care of yourself. Are you sleeping enough?"

"Yes."

"Will you be coming home for Christmas?"

"I don't know."

"But, Mason—"

"I have to go."

I'm twenty-two years old and an adult now. She knows she can't intrude on my life if I don't let her.

"Okay, honey," she says. "But… let me know if you need anything. Anything at all."

"I will."

The truth is that I can't remember the last time I've been to class or to the lab. It somehow all faded into the background. I'm trying to save my reputation. My reputation and my life. And put a murderer behind bars, where he belongs.

But nothing I do seems to bring me closer to that goal. As it is now, I have nothing. No evidence of wrongdoing. Conlon's just going to get away with this.

Unless…

The idea, once in my head, suddenly seems so obvious. I check the date and time on my computer. The date registers as familiar, and it takes me a second to connect to the fact that our anatomy final exam is tomorrow. That means it's a Sunday—Sunday night. If I go to the hospital, there will be students in the library but no classes going on. I'll have the place to myself… all the time in the world to bust into Dr. Conlon's office and search for dirt on him.

I throw on a pair of scrubs over my boxer shorts. I haven't changed shirts in over a week, at least, but it's not like I need to look presentable. I shove my bare feet into my sneakers and pull on my dark-brown jacket. I grab my car keys off my dresser, and as I drop them into my pocket, I feel the cold metal against my fingers. My father's Magnum.

I hesitate, my fingers still on the gun. Something deep inside me is telling me to take the gun out of my pocket and leave it in my room. There isn't going to be anyone at the hospital this late. And if there is… well, maybe it's better if I don't have a gun.

And then, I hear that horrible voice again in my ear.

Take the gun, Mason.

I slowly remove my hand from my pocket, leaving the gun inside.

Not so fast. You still have to load it.