Page 51 of Careless Whisper

I hitched the strap of my straw tote higher on my shoulder, adjusting the weight of the fruit inside. “And?” I prompted.

“These men protect their own at the cost of everyone else. Sometimes, I had to smile through it. Sometimes, I had to walk away.”

“You think I should walk?”

He looked at me then, really looked. “I think youshould do what makes you content, what doesn’t take away your peace of mind.”

That night, I dreamed about the OR—the steady rhythm of monitors, the weight of clamps in my hand, the feeling of catching an error just in time.

On my last morning, I sat outside with my mother while the city yawned awake.

“Am I an idiot for going back? A loser? Or would I be one for staying?”

She handed me a mug and kissed the top of my head. “Whatever you decide, you’re not a loser or an idiot; you are a survivor, and I’m very proud of you.”

CHAPTER 18

Elias

Before I confronted Maren, I wanted to get the facts about what the fuck happened in Boston.

It took me three days, several calls to Boston—and one favor I’d rather not owe—before finally getting a number for Kajal Patel, the former head nurse at Stratford who was now living and working in London. After making sure I wasn’t calling her in the middle of the night, I got her in the evening, her time, and hopefullyafterher shift.

“This is Kajal Patel.”

Relieved, I said, “Hi, Kajal, it’s Elias Graham…ah…from Boston.”

“Oh.” I didn’t blame her for being confused. I was a blast from the past. “How are you?”

“Good?”

I chuckled. “Kajal, I’m sorry for bothering you. I heard you live in London now.”

“Yeah,” she replied. “My husband got a job here and so we moved. And…I could get a job as a nurse.”

“That’s great. So…how’s the weather?” I almost groaned at that stupid question, but I didn’t know how to ask her what I needed to.

“Ah…Dr. Graham, can you tell me why you’re calling me? I don’t think it’s to, you know, ask me how the weather in London is…which, by the way, is totalshiteas they say here.”

Now, I laughed. “Kajal, I wanted to ask you whatyouthink happened five years ago…with Reggie Sanchez and Dr. Maren Loring.”

She gasped. “God! I’m so glad someone is finally asking because every time I brought it up with anyone, no one wanted to talk about it. You know, I even filed a report officially when I was leaving. I mean…I was leaving, right? What could they do to me? Is that why you’re calling?”

I struggled to breathe for a moment.

“Ah…no, Kajal. I’m calling because I’m now at Harper Memorial in Seattle and…I have both Maren and Reggie working here.”

“That woman is a menace,” she muttered angrily.

I knew she wasn’t talking about Reggie, but I asked for clarification.

“Dr. Maren Loring!” she exclaimed. “Look, Reggie paged Maren about the patient. I remember itclearly. She saw the tamponade signs. She followed protocol. She pushed.”

“I never saw that in the M&M report.”

“I put it in there,” she objected. “I did.”

“Okay, I believe you,” I said softly because I did. Maren had somehow managed to make that communication between Reggie and her disappear. There was no other explanation.

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