Ciara
I’m staring at Dr.Edward, wondering if I heard him correctly.
“So you never treated Murphy Leonard? Are you sure?” My voice comes out higher and faster than usual—so much for remaining casual.
Dr.Edward nods, his mouth turned down at the corners. I’m struck by the sudden change in his demeanor. He went from jolly, grandfather-type to annoyed professional who can’t be bothered as soon as I posed the question. Does he dislike that I’m bothering him with questions about a patient? Or is he trying to hide something from me?
“You know, I’ve treated so many gunshot wounds. This is one of the busiest hospitals in New York City. Even if I did attend to this Leonard fellow, how could you possibly expect me to remember? Now, if you’ll excuse me, Ms. Damien, I’ve got to get back to rounds.” He turns and walks away without a backward glance.
‘Ms.Damien?’ He’s never called me that in my life. I brace myself against the counter of the nurse's station. I might not be a detective, but I can tell that he was lying. I know it in my bones.
Or at least he was lying when he said he didn’t know who Murphy Leonard was. You may not remember every gunshot wound, but you would certainly remember a celebrity like. The Leonards family can’t sneeze in New York without someone writing about it. But how can I prove it?
I refuse to accept this dead end. I have to go find Lianna—maybe she can help me somehow. I make my way to the break room in the maternity ward, hoping that luck will be on my side again. Thankfully, she’s there!
“Lianna!” I cry, happy to see her.
“Hey Ciara!” she exclaims, hustling over to give me a hug. “I haven’t seen you in a while. How are you?’
“I’m good.” It’s mostly true, though I never thought I’d be back in the hospital trying to track down something like this. For a few minutes, Lianna and I catch up about our lives. It’s a nice distraction, but I need to get down to the task at hand.
“Lianna,” I start, “I hope this isn’t too forward, but I need a favor. Can you access hospital records?”
“What is this all about?” Lianna raises an eyebrow at me.
I give her what I hope is a reassuring smile. “I can’t really say. I just need to know if Dr.Edward ever treated Evan’s brother, Murphy. It would have been about four years ago, in the ER.”
Lianna’s jaw drops. I wish I could tell her more, I really do, but I can’t. There’s too much at stake right now. I’m already risking so much just by being here and asking for her help. People know who I am at this hospital, and if Lianna ever mentioned to anyone that I asked her to look at confidential records, the entire Leonards family could become part of yet another scandal—but this one would absolutely destroy them.
“Please, Lianna, you know I wouldn’t ask unless this wasn’t really, really important,” I beg, and grab her hand. “I’ll be able to tell you everything when the time is right, I swear,” I plead.
“Okay,” Lianna whispers, nodding firmly. “Come on we’ll have to be quick at the nurse’s station.” We both stand up and walk swiftly over to the nurse’s station. We heard an alarm beeping a few minutes ago and most of the staff is off dealing with patients, so the station is deserted. Thank God.
“Keep your eyes open in case anyone comes.” Lianna says as her fingers fly over the computer keys. “Yes, it says here that Dr.Edward treated M. Leonard for a gunshot wound.”
My heart catches in my throat.
I knew it!
This is irrefutable proof that Dr.Edward did treat Murphy. Now the question is whether he lied to me about it or if he truly didn’t remember.
“Thanks, Lianna.” I reach over and give her a hug. “Really, you have no idea how important this information is to me.”
Lianna nods, looking like she wants to say something more.
“I better get home,” I say, and quickly walk down the hallway toward the exit. I hate to leave so abruptly after she did me such a huge favor, but I don’t want her asking me a ton of questions that I can’t answer.
I see Dr.Edward standing in the hallway a few feet from the exit. I can’t leave without talking to him one more time. I have to know if he was lying about remembering.
“Dr. Edward, I just heard you did indeed treat a Murphy for a gunshot wound. Care to explain?” I cross my arms and frown.
“I’m sorry, but as I told you before, I can’t possibly remember the name of every patient I’ve ever treated. I’ve been a doctor for many years. Excuse me,” he says and hurries off. He doesn’t make eye contact as he leaves.