Chương 2
He looked toward the hallway.
“I knew there were questions.”
“What questions?”
Marcus hesitated.
That hesitation was the first thing that made Lena afraid.
“Marcus.”
“Not here.”
“Why?”
“Because if you’re asking me whether I think Claire Mercer knows something about Noah Bell’s death, I don’t know.”
He lowered his voice.
“But if you’re asking whether I think you should be careful about what you do next, yes.”
Lena stared at him.
The answer felt like a warning without enough information to understand the danger.
She hated that kind of warning.
It was the same kind of thing people said when they already knew more than they were willing to share.
“I’m her doctor,” Lena said.
Marcus looked back at her.
“No.”
The correction was quiet.
“You’re the doctor who never got over losing that patient.”
The truth of it irritated her because it was too close.
She looked away.
“I need to check on her.”
“You need to sleep.”
“I’ll sleep when I know what happened.”
Marcus sighed.
“That sentence right there is why everyone worries about you.”
“I’m fine.”
“I didn’t say you weren’t good at your job.”
The softness in his voice made the comment worse.
“I said you’re not always good at knowing when the job has become personal.”
Lena left before she could answer.
Claire was awake when she returned.
The room was dim except for the light above the bed.
The woman looked smaller without the emergency department surrounding her.
“You came back,” Claire said.
It sounded less like an observation and more like relief.
“I wanted to check your pain level.”
“That’s not why.”
Lena stopped.
Patients often noticed more than doctors wanted them to.
“Why do you think I came back?”
Claire stared at the blanket covering her legs.
“Because you were there too.”
Lena felt her pulse quicken.
“What does that mean?”
Claire closed her eyes.
For several seconds, she said nothing.
Then her breathing changed.
Not faster.
Different.
Like someone opening a door they had kept locked for a long time.
“Noah wasn’t alone that night,” Claire said.
Lena moved closer to the bed.
“Claire, who else was there?”
The woman opened her eyes.
And for the first time since arriving, the fear on her face was replaced by something else.
Recognition.
“I don’t know who I was supposed to be afraid of,” she whispered.
“But I know who everyone blamed.”
Lena reached for the chart at the end of the bed.
Claire’s admission paperwork was still there.
Her signature was barely visible beneath the hospital lights.
A strange feeling passed through Lena as she looked at it.
The handwriting seemed familiar.
Not because she knew Claire Mercer.
Because she had seen those letters before.
Years ago.
On a document connected to Noah Bell’s case.
Before Lena could place the memory, the door opened behind her.
A hospital administrator stood in the doorway with a serious expression.
“Dr. Hart,” he said.
Lena turned.
The administrator glanced at Claire, then back at Lena.
“Security found something in the patient’s vehicle.”
“What?”
He held up a sealed evidence bag.
Inside was a damaged phone.
“We think it belongs to her.”
Lena waited.
The administrator did not move.
“What’s wrong?”
His face tightened.
“The last video saved on that phone was recorded less than an hour before the crash.”
Lena looked at Claire.
The woman had gone completely still.
“What was in the video?” Lena asked.
The administrator swallowed.
“It was inside this hospital.”
Lena looked at the evidence bag again.
The damaged phone inside it seemed ordinary, the kind of device hundreds of people carried through the hospital every day.
A cracked screen.
A worn protective case.
A small piece of someone’s life reduced to something that fit inside a plastic bag.
“What part of the hospital?” Lena asked.
The administrator’s eyes moved briefly toward Claire.
“Radiology.”
Claire made a sound that was barely audible.
Not a word.
More like the body reacting before the mind could catch up.
Lena noticed.
So did the administrator.
“Why would she record something in radiology?” Lena asked.
“We don’t know.”
“You watched the video?”
The administrator hesitated.
“Only enough to know where it was.”
That answer bothered Lena immediately.
People always had reasons for stopping halfway through something.
Sometimes those reasons were responsible.
Sometimes they were fear wearing a professional expression.
“Show me,” Lena said.
The administrator looked uncomfortable.
“I’m not sure that’s appropriate.”
“You brought me the evidence.”
“I brought you information because you’re her physician.”
“Then you understand that if there is something connected to her injury or mental state, I need to know.”
The man looked at Claire.
The patient turned her face toward the window.
She was pretending not to listen.
She was not very good at it.
After a few seconds, he unlocked his phone and opened the video file.
He did not hand the phone to Lena.
He held it himself.
The screen showed a hallway.
Not clearly.
The recording moved unevenly, as if Claire had been walking quickly while trying to keep the phone hidden.
The image shook past a set of elevators.
Past a supply cart.
Past the familiar blue sign outside radiology.
Then the camera turned toward a room.
Lena recognized it before she saw the number.
Room Seven.
Her stomach tightened.
The video became darker.
There was no sound for several seconds.
Then voices appeared.
A man speaking quietly.
A woman answering.
The administrator stopped the video.
“That’s where we stopped.”
Lena stared at him.
“Who are they?”
“We don’t know.”
“You didn’t listen?”
“We listened.”
His voice became defensive.
“We also have rules about handling evidence before law enforcement reviews it.”
Lena looked at the frozen image on the screen.
“You said it was recorded less than an hour before the crash.”
“Yes.”
“Why was she here?”
Nobody answered.
The silence itself felt like an answer.
Lena turned toward Claire.
May you like
The woman was watching her now.
“You were in this hospital before the accident.”
