“They saw you attack Patricia.”

“They saw an edited file,” I said.

“It doesn’t matter,” he replied.

“The committee wants a clean, quiet resolution.”

“If you resign tonight, we can keep the state licensing board out of this.”

I gripped the phone tighter, my fingers turning white.

“I’m not resigning,” I said.

“Then you’ll destroy what’s left of your career,” Michael said.

“And for what?”

“For a grudge?”

“It’s not a grudge,” I said.

“It’s the truth.”

I ended the call before he could answer.

I set the phone on the counter and stared at my reflection in the dark kitchen window.

The yellow bruise on my neck was fading, but it still throbbed when I turned my head too quickly.

I didn’t sleep much that night.

At six in the morning, the sky was a flat, cold gray.

A light drizzle was falling, streaking the windshield of my car as I drove to County General.

The air smelled of wet asphalt and car exhaust as I walked toward the entrance.

I parked in my usual spot, though my badge had been temporarily deactivated for the clinical floors.