Page 108 of Bad Blood

Too late now.

“Maybe, in passing. I can’t remember.” I pull my shoulders to my ears, not ready to give him my theories. I need a confession or some other proof. I need to get into his office and see if he’s left any evidence that could link him to the victims besides that they’ve dated.

He steps forward, excitement flashing in his eyes as he settles both hands on my desk and leans over it toward me. “I need you to find out. Can you do that?”

“Won’t he get suspicious?”

He paces in front of the desk, both hands on his hips. “I’ll figure out a way for you to get the information.”

“You can ask his nurse.”

“That would look suspicious. You talking to her is natural; it’s something you do every day, right? You have an easy in.”

“Him,” I say, voice tight.

“What?”

“Kline’s nurse is a man. Phillip.”

“You talking to him. Is that a yes? You’ll do it?”

I wait longer than he finds acceptable. I have some ideas. And if I’m right, Kline will be quick to tie the noose over his neck all on his own. “Fine. But this is going to be on my terms.”

30

What Are the Chances?

Brighton

Friday, June 2 nd

11:23 p.m.

Why do I agree?

I’m not thinking straight. But it’s too late.

We shake on it. Hudson goes over the details. I pretend to be listening, but my mind is stuck on the part where I decided to be a snitch.

“I’ll be in touch.” He gives me a satisfied smile.

“No contact at work.”

“Got it.”

“Kline can’t find out.”

“We’ll keep you safe.” He places a hand over his heart.

“He . . . I . . . What if?”

Hudson tilts his head to one side, noting my reluctance. “We won’t let anything happen. You’ll be under our protection.”

“How?”

“We’ll plant someone undercover.”

They can just do that? Seems a little over the top, but he doesn’t seem like the type of guy to say something and not mean it. I have no idea what he thinks I’m going to uncover since my search for more on the malpractice, which should be obvious and easy to find, has left me empty-handed.

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