Under the Knife

by Tess Gerritsen

  So it’s over, she thought. I was stupid to hope for anything else.

  They allowed her a chance to respond but she’d lost her voice; it was all she could manage to remain calm and dry-eyed in front of these seven people who’d just torn her life apart.

  As the committee filed out, she remained in her chair, unable to move or even to raise her head. “I’m sorry, Kate,” Guy said softly. He lingered beside her for a moment, as though hunting for something else to say. Then he, too, drifted out of the room.

  Her name was called twice before she finally looked up to see Bettencourt and the attorney standing in front of her.

  “We think it’s time to talk, Dr. Chesne,” announced the attorney.

  She frowned at them in bewilderment. “Talk? About what?”

  “A settlement.”

  Her back stiffened. “Isn’t this a little premature?”

  “If anything, it’s too late.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “A reporter was in my office a few hours ago. It appears the whole case is out in the open. Obviously the O’Briens took their story to the newspapers. I’m afraid you’ll be tried—and convicted—in print.”

  “But the case was filed only last week.”

  “We have to get this out of the public eye. Now. And the best way to do it is a very fast, very quiet settlement. All we need is your agreement. I plan to start negotiations at around half a million, though we fully expect they’ll push for more.”

  Half a million dollars, she thought. It struck her as obscene, placing a monetary value on a human life. “No,” she said.

  The attorney blinked. “Excuse me?”

  “The evidence is still coming in. By the time this goes to trial, I’m sure I’ll be able to prove—”

  “It won’t go to trial. This case will be settled, Doctor. With or without your permission.”

  Her mouth tightened. “Then I’ll pay for my own attorney. One who’ll represent me and not the hospital.”

  The two men glanced at each other. When the attorney spoke again, his tone was distinctly unpleasant. “I don’t think you fully understand what it means to go to trial. Dr. Santini will, in all probability, be dropped from the case. Which means you will be the principal defendant. You’ll be the one sweating on that stand. And it’ll be your name in the newspapers. I know their attorney, David Ransom. I’ve seen him rip a defendant to shreds in the courtroom. Believe me, you don’t want to go through that.”

  “Mr. Ransom is no longer on the case,” she said.

  “What?”

  “He’s withdrawn.”

  He snorted. “Where on earth did you hear that rumor?”

  “He told me.”

  “Are you saying you talked to him?”

  Not to mention went to bed with him, she reflected, flushing. “It happened last week. I went to his office. I told him about the EKGs—”

  “Dear God.” The attorney turned and threw his pencil in his briefcase. “Well, that’s it, folks. We’re in big trouble.”

  “Why?”

  “He’ll use that crazy story of yours to push for a higher settlement.”

  “But he believed me! That’s why he’s withdrawing—”

  “He couldn’t possibly believe you. I know the man.”

  I know him too! she wanted to yell.

  But there was no point; she’d never be able to convince them. So she simply shook her head. “I won’t settle.”

  The attorney snapped his briefcase shut and turned in frustration to Bettencourt. “George?”

  Kate shifted her attention to the chief administrator. Bettencourt was watching her with an utterly smooth expression. No hostility. No anger. Just that quintessential poker player’s gaze.

  “I’m concerned about your future, Dr. Chesne,” he said.

  So am I, she felt like snapping back.

  “There’s a good chance, unfortunately, that the Disciplinary Committee will view your case harshly. If so, they’ll probably recommend you be terminated. And that would be a shame, having that on your record. It would make it almost impossible for you to find another job. Anywhere.” He paused, to let his words sink in. “That’s why I’m offering you this alternative, Doctor. I think it’s far preferable to an out-and-out firing.”

  She stared down at the sheet of paper he was holding out to her. It was a typed resignation, already dated, with a blank space awaiting her signature.

  “That’s all that’d appear in your file. A resignation. There’d be no damning conclusions from the Disciplinary Committee. No record of termination. Even with this lawsuit, you could probably find another job, though not in this town.” He took out a pen and held it out to her. “Why don’t you sign it? It really is for the best.”

  She kept staring at the paper. The whole process was so neat, so efficient. Here was this ready-made document. All it needed was her signature. Her capitulation.

  “We’re waiting, Dr. Chesne,” challenged Bettencourt. “Sign it.”

  She rose to her feet. She took the resignation sheet. Looking him straight in the eye, she ripped the paper in half. “There’s my resignation,” she declared. Then she turned and walked out the door.

  Only as she stalked away past the administrative suite did it occur to her what she’d just done. She’d burned her bridges. There was no going back now; her only course was to slog it out to the very end.

  Halfway down the hall, her footsteps slowed and finally stopped. She wanted to cry but couldn’t. She stood there, staring down the corridor, watching the last secretary straggle away toward the elevators. It was five-fifteen and only a janitor remained at the far end of the hall, listlessly shoving a vacuum cleaner across the carpet. He rounded the corner and the sound of the machine faded away, leaving only a heavy stillness. Farther down the hall, a light was shining through the open door of Clarence Avery’s office. It didn’t surprise her that he was still at work; he often stayed late. But she wondered why he hadn’t attended the hearing as he’d promised. Now, more than ever, she needed his support.

  She went to the office. Glancing inside, she was disappointed to find only his secretary, tidying up papers on the desk.

  The woman glanced up. “Oh. Dr. Chesne.”

  “Is Dr. Avery still in the hospital?” Kate asked.

  “Haven’t you heard?”

  “Heard what?”

  The secretary looked down sadly at the photograph on the desk. “His wife died last night, at the nursing home. He hasn’t been in the hospital all day.”

  Kate felt herself sag against the doorway. “His…wife?”

  “Yes. It was all rather unexpected. A heart attack, they think, but— Are you all right?”

  “What?”

  “Are you all right? You don’t look well.”

  “No, I’m—I’m fine.” Kate backed into the hall. “I’m fine,” she repeated, walking in a daze toward the elevators. As she rode down to the lobby, a memory came back to her, an image of shattered glass sparkling at the feet of Clarence Avery.

  She needs to be put to sleep…. It’s so much better if I do it, if I’m there to say goodbye. Don’t you think?

  The elevator doors hissed open. The instant she stepped out into the bright lights of the lobby, a sudden impulse seized her, the need to flee, to find safety. To find David. She walked outside into the parking lot and the urge became compelling. She couldn’t wait; she had to see him now. If she hurried, she might catch him at his office.

  Just the thought of seeing his face filled her with such irrational longing that she began to run. She ran all the way to the car.

  Her route took her into the very heart of downtown. Late-afternoon sunlight slanted in through the picket shadows of steel-and-glass high-rises. Rush-hour traffic clogged the streets; she felt like a fish struggling upstream. With every minute that passed, her hunger to see him grew. And with it grew a panic that she would be too late, that she’d find his office empty, his door locked. At that moment,
as she fought through the traffic, it seemed that nothing in her life had ever been as important as reaching the safety of his arms.

  Please be there, she prayed. Please be there….

  * * *

  “AN EXPLANATION, MR. RANSOM. That’s all I’m asking for. A week ago you said our chances of winning were excellent. Now you’ve withdrawn from the case. I want to know why.”

  David gazed uneasily into Mary O’Brien’s silver-gray eyes and wondered how to answer her. He wasn’t about to tell her the truth—that he was having an affair with the opposition. But he did owe her some sort of explanation and he knew, from the look in her eye, that it had better be a good one.

  He heard the agitated creaking of wood and leather and he glanced in irritation at Phil Glickman, who was squirming nervously in his chair. David shot him a warning look to cool it. If that was possible. Glickman already knew the truth. And damned if he didn’t look ready to blurt it all out.

  Mary O’Brien was still waiting.

  David’s answer was evasive but not entirely dishonest. “As I said earlier, Mrs. O’Brien, I’ve discovered a conflict of interest.”

  “I don’t understand what that means,” Mary O’Brien said impatiently. “This conflict of interest. Are you telling me you work for the hospital?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “Then what does it mean?”

  “It’s…confidential. I really can’t discuss it.” Smoothly changing the subject, he continued, “I’m referring your case to Sullivan and March. It’s an excellent firm. They’ll be happy to take it from here, assuming you have no objections.”

  “You haven’t answered my question.” She leaned forward, her eyes glinting, her bony hands bunched tightly on his desk. Claws of vengeance, he thought.

  “I’m sorry, Mrs. O’Brien. I just can’t serve your needs objectively. I have no choice but to withdraw.”

  It was a very different parting from the last visit. A cold and businesslike handshake, a nod of the head. Then he and Glickman escorted her out of his office.

  “I expect there’ll be no delays because of this,” she said.

  “There shouldn’t be. All the groundwork’s been laid.” He frowned as he saw the frantic expression of his secretary at the far end of the hall.

  “You still think they’ll try to settle?”

  “It’s impossible to second-guess….” He paused, distracted. His secretary now looked absolutely panicked.

  “You told us before they’d want to settle.”

  “Hmm? Oh.” Suddenly anxious to get rid of her, he guided her purposefully toward the reception room. “Look, don’t worry about it, Mrs. O’Brien,” he practically snapped out. “I can almost guarantee the other side’s discussing a settlement right—” His feet froze in their tracks. He felt as though he were mired in concrete and would never move again.

  Kate was standing in front of him. Slowly, her disbelieving gaze shifted to Mary O’Brien.

  “Oh, my God,” Glickman groaned.

  It was a tableau taken straight out of some soap opera: the shocked parties, all staring at one another.

  “I can explain everything,” David blurted out.

  “I doubt it,” retorted Mary O’Brien.

  Wordlessly Kate spun around and walked out of the suite. The slam of the door shook David out of his paralysis. Just before he rushed out into the hall he heard Mary O’Brien’s outraged voice say: “Conflict of interest? Now I know what he meant by interest!”

  Kate was stepping into an elevator.

  He scrambled after her but before he could yank her out, the door snapped shut between them. “Dammit!” he yelled, slamming his fist against the wall.

  The next elevator took forever to arrive. All the way down, twenty floors, he paced back and forth like a caged animal, muttering oaths he hadn’t used in years. By the time he emerged on the ground floor, Kate was nowhere to be seen.

  He ran out of the building and down the steps to the sidewalk. Scanning the street, he spotted, half a block away, a bus idling near the curb. Kate was walking toward it.

  Shoving frantically through a knot of pedestrians, he managed to grab her arm and haul her back as she was about to step aboard the bus.

  “Let me go!” she snapped.

  “Where the hell do you think you’re going?”

  “Oh, sorry. I almost forgot!” Thrusting her hand in her skirt pocket, she pulled out his car keys and practically threw them at him. “I wouldn’t want to be accused of stealing your precious BMW!”

  She looked around in frustration as the bus roared off without her. Yanking her arm free, she stormed away. He was right behind her.

  “Just give me a chance to explain.”

  “What did you tell your client, David? That she’ll get her settlement now that you’ve got the dumb doctor eating out of your hand?”

  “What happened between you and me has nothing to do with the case.”

  “It has everything to do with the case! You were hoping all along I’d settle.”

  “I only asked you to think about it.”

  “Ha!” She whirled on him. “Is this something they teach you in law school? When all else fails, get the opposition into bed?”

  That was the last straw. He grabbed her arm and practically dragged her off the sidewalk and into a nearby pub. Inside, he plunged straight through the boisterous crowd that had gathered around the bar and hauled her through the swirling cigarette smoke to an empty booth at the back. There he plopped her down unceremoniously onto the wooden bench. Sliding into the seat across from her, he shot her a look that said she was damn well going to hear him out.

  “First of all—” he started.

  “Good evening,” said a cheery voice.

  “Now what?” he barked at the startled waitress who’d arrived to take their order.

  The woman seemed to shrink back into her forest-green costume. “Did you…uh, want anything—”

  “Just bring us a couple of beers,” he snapped.

  “Of course, sir.” With a pitying look at Kate, the waitress turned ruffled skirts and fled.

  For a solid minute, David and Kate stared at each other with unveiled hostility. Then David let out a sigh and clawed his fingers through his already unruly hair. “Okay,” he said. “Let’s try it again.”

  “Where do we start? Before or after your client popped out of your office?”

  “Did anyone ever tell you you’ve got a lousy sense of timing?”

  “Oh, you’re wrong there, mister. My sense of timing happens to be just dandy. What did I hear you say to her? ‘Don’t worry, there’s a settlement in the works’?”

  “I was trying to get her out of my office!”

  “So how did she react to your straddling both sides of the lawsuit?”

  “I wasn’t—” he looked pained “—straddling.”

  “Working for her and going to bed with me? I’d call that straddling.”

  “For an intelligent woman, you seem to have a little trouble comprehending one little fact: I’m off the case. Permanently. And voluntarily. Mary O’Brien came to my office demanding to know why I withdrew.”

  “Did you—did you tell her about us?”

  “You think I’m nuts? You think I’d come out and announce I had a roll in the hay with the opposition?”

  His words hit her like a slap across her face. Was that all it had meant to him? She’d imagined their lovemaking meant far more than just the simple clash of hormones. A joining of souls, perhaps. But for David, the affair had only meant complications. An angry client, a forced withdrawal from a case. And now the humiliation of having to confess an illicit romance. That he’d tried so hard to conceal their affair gave it all a lurid glow. People only hid what they were ashamed of.

  “A weekend fling,” she said. “Is that what I was?”

  “I didn’t mean it that way!”

  “Well, don’t worry about it, David,” she assured him with regal composure as she rose to her f
eet. “I won’t embarrass you any more. This is one skeleton who’ll gladly step back into the closet.”

  “Sit down.” It was nothing more than a low growl but it held enough threat to make her pause. “Please,” he added. Then, in a whisper, he said it again. “Please.”

  Slowly, she sat back down.

  They fell silent as the waitress returned and set down their beers. Only when they were alone again did David say, quietly, “You’re not just a fling, Kate. And as for the O’Briens, it’s none of their business what I do on my weekends. Or weekdays.” He shook his head in amazement. “You know, I’ve withdrawn from other cases, but it was always for perfectly logical reasons. Reasons I could defend without getting red in the face. This time, though…” He let out a brittle laugh. “At my age, getting red in the face isn’t supposed to happen anymore.”

  Kate stared down at her glass. She hated beer. She hated arguing. Most of all, she hated this chasm between them. “If I jumped to conclusions,” she admitted grudgingly, “I’m sorry. I guess I never did trust lawyers.”

  He grunted. “Then we’re even. I never did trust doctors.”

  “So we’re an unlikely pair. What else is new?”

  They suffered through another one of those terrible loaded silences.

  “We really don’t know each other very well, do we?” she finally said.

  “Except in bed. Which isn’t the best place to get acquainted.” He paused. “Though we certainly tried.”

  She looked up and saw an odd little tilt to his mouth, the beginnings of a smile. A lock of hair had slipped down over his brow. His shirt collar gaped open and his tie had been yanked into a limp version of a hangman’s noose. She’d never seen him look so wrenchingly attractive.

  “Are you going to get in trouble, David? What if the O’Briens complain to the state bar?” she asked softly.

  He shrugged. “I’m not worried. Hell, the worst they can do is disbar me. Throw me in jail. Maybe send me to the electric chair.”

  “David.”

  “Oh, you’re right, I forgot. Hawaii doesn’t have an electric chair.” He noticed she wasn’t laughing. “Okay, so it’s a lousy joke.” He lifted his mug and was about to take a gulp of beer when he focused on her morose expression. “Oh, I completely forgot. What happened at your hearing?”