Chapter 6
I drove home just after noon because I needed clean clothes and my employee badge. Gabriel wanted to come with me, but I told him the duplex was safer if he stayed there.
He studied my face before agreeing.
“Lock the door behind you,” he said.
“I will.”
“And if anything feels wrong, leave.”
“I know.”
“No, Mara. Don’t be polite about it.”
That stopped me. I nodded once and drove away.
My apartment building stood behind a laundromat near the hospital. The hallway smelled like wet coats and detergent. I had lived there for three years, long enough to know which floorboards creaked and which neighbors listened through their doors.
My landlord, Mr. Bell, was waiting beside my apartment.
He held a manila envelope against his chest. “You’ve had some visitors.”
“Who?”
“Hospital representatives.” He looked embarrassed. “They said you might be unstable. That there was concern about confidential material.”
I unlocked my door but didn’t open it.
“What did you tell them?”
“That I don’t discuss tenants.” His eyes moved toward the stairs. “But they asked about your family. Whether you had someplace else to go.”
A cold line formed beneath my ribs.
Inside, the apartment looked untouched at first. My couch was where I’d left it. The small dish by the door still held two grocery receipts. Then I saw the bedroom closet.
One of the storage boxes had been opened. My old nursing-school books lay on the floor. The envelope where I kept my employee evaluations was missing.
Mr. Bell stood in the doorway. “Should I call the police?”
I thought of the surveillance camera in Gabriel’s room. The access log. Vale’s voice offering immunity if I returned Gabriel.
“No,” I said. “Not yet.”
He frowned. “Mara, if someone entered—”
“I’ll handle it.”
The lie sounded familiar because I’d used it on myself for years.
I packed two changes of clothes, my identification, and the notebook where I had written down every medication round from the night Gabriel awakened. Before leaving, I photographed the disturbed closet and the broken latch on the bedroom window.
At the bottom of the stairs, my phone rang.
Dr. Adrian Vale.
I let it ring twice before answering.
“Mara,” he said, smooth and patient. “I’m glad you picked up.”
“I’m not coming back to the hospital.”
“This isn’t about employment.”
“Then why are you calling?”
A pause. I heard faint music behind him, strings and conversation, as if he were already standing in some polished room.
“You’ve been placed under considerable pressure by Mr. Reed,” he said. “He’s frightened, and frightened people can become persuasive.”
“I saw the transfer order.”
“You saw a document you were not qualified to interpret.”
“I saw Tessa’s credentials used without her knowledge.”
His voice cooled by one degree. “You’re making serious accusations.”
“I’m describing what happened.”
“You kissed a sedated patient,” he said.
My grip tightened around the phone.
“We have the footage,” Vale continued. “You could lose your certification, your housing, and your reputation. Or you could help return Mr. Reed to appropriate care and explain that your judgment was compromised.”
Shame rose so quickly it made my mouth dry. He knew exactly where to press.
“I’m not helping you hide anything.”
“I’m offering protection.”
“You’re offering silence.”
He exhaled softly. “Three days from now, the Vale Community Foundation will announce its expansion. There will be reporters. Donors. People who care about stability.”
“I don’t.”
“You will.”
The call ended.
I stood in the parking lot while a delivery truck rattled past. Then I opened my contacts and searched for an attorney. The first number belonged to a legal clinic Noah had mentioned. I left a message.
When I reached June’s duplex, Gabriel was at the kitchen table, reading the copied audit page.
I set my bag down.
“Vale called,” I said.
Gabriel looked up. “What did he offer?”
“Protection.”
“And what did he threaten?”
I told him.
He didn’t reach for me. He didn’t tell me it would be fine. He only moved the chair beside him back with his foot.
I sat.
“I’m going to testify,” I said. “Even if they use the kiss.”
Gabriel’s expression tightened, but his voice stayed level.
“Then tell the truth before they tell a version of it for you.”
That evening, Tessa called from an unknown number.
Her voice was low. “Mara, someone else accessed Gabriel’s chart the night you stopped the infusion.”
“Who?”
“An employee named Luis Ortega. He worked pharmacy inventory.”
“What happened to him?”
“He’s been removed from every schedule.”
“Fired?”
“I checked. There’s no termination record.”
May you like
Silence filled the line.
Then Tessa said, “I don’t think they want us asking where he went.”
