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“There,” Lori said, pointing.
I followed her gaze and sure enough, there he was, sitting at a nearby bench. I marched up to him, ignoring Lori’s protest, and he watched with a surprised frown.
“You,” I said. “Stalker.”
He was a middle-aged man, pale skin, boring face. He had a black hat pulled down low and wore the most banal outfit I’d ever seen: gray windbreaker, khaki pants. He had a small notebook in his lap, and he closed it as I loomed over him with my arms crossed.
“Can I help you?” he asked, trying out an awkward smile.
“Let’s cut the bullshit. You’ve been following me around for the past week and I want to know why.”
His face melted into a mask. “I’m not sure you want to do this, Mr. Hood.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not sure you understand what you’re getting yourself into. You realize you’re affecting my work? And my work’s important, unlike yourself.”
He didn’t rise to my bait. “I understand that I can be a nuisance, and I apologize for that, however—”
“You need to stop following me,” I growled at him. I practically felt Lori jumping from foot to foot behind me, probably eager to get me to stop whatever I was doing, and she was probably right—as soon as I opened my mouth, I knew this was a bad idea.
But I couldn’t help myself. This blob of a man represented everything wrong with the world. Doctors were treated like nothing more than healing robots, and when something went wrong, everyone wanted to instantly jump to lawsuits. The Tippett family knew the risks when I operated on Nil, and they knew the risks were even worse than usual, considering his age and his overall health. And yet they went ahead with it, as if their eighty-year-old patriarch was invincible.
I resented them, and hated myself for taking them on, but that was what we did. When rich people wanted a special surgery, we performed it, and apparently, we accepted their lawsuits afterwards.
It was garbage. It was beyond garbage—it was blackmail.
“I need to do my job,” Blobman said. His eyes flicked over to Lori. “Are you the new student?”
“Don’t answer,” I said, glaring at her, then looked back at the blob. “If you understand what you’re doing, then you know that you’re distracting me from my patients. I know the Tippetts hired you to stalk me and try to find something to use against me in court, but I’m telling you that you’re on the wrong side. Those people only want money, they don’t give a damn about the people I work on every single day, and all the other lives I save. They want to make a quick buck on their family member’s death.”
Blobman didn’t even look at me. I was so pissed off, but he only continued to give Lori a curious stare. “What do you think about this?” he asked her. “Do you think he’s right? Am I just a big distraction?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “Honestly, I don’t know what either of you are talking about.”
“She’s not a part of this.” I stared down at the blob and realized he wasn’t the issue. He was a symptom of the problem, but he wasn’t the problem himself. The Tippett family was the problem, and anyone else that thought they could bully their way into more money, simply because life didn’t go their way every time.
I turned away, back toward the hospital. This was a mistake, a stupid mistake. I got emotional and angry, and let my anger make decisions for me. I learned a long time ago to push past my emotions and to follow logic as much as possible. I learned on the operating table that emotions could get someone killed, and I did my best to make sure that never happened.
In this instance, I made a stupid error, but I wouldn’t do it again.
“What do you think of him?” Blobman asked Lori as I walked away. I paused and looked back at them. “Is he as good as they say?”
She glanced at me. “Yes, he is.”
“He’s not full of shit then?”
She hesitated, smiling slightly. “I didn’t say that.”
Blobman made a note. “Is he reckless? Quick to operate where perhaps less invasive treatments are available?”
“No,” she said, frowning. “No, I don’t think so.”
“You don’t think so.” He tapped his lips with the end of his pen. “Tell me, would you trust your life to him?”
“You don’t have to answer,” I said. “Come on, Lori. Let’s go back.”
“Yes,” she said. “If I had to have a major surgery, he’s the man I’d want performing it.”
“Very good.” Blobman made another note. “Do you think Mr. Hood is responsible for the death of Nil Tippett?”
“I don’t know who that is or what happened,” she said. “I barely know Dr. Hood.”
“Interesting.” Blobman stood up. “When you get to know him a little better, you come and find me. Because here’s the thing. That man may be good at what he does, but that doesn’t mean he can get away with poor judgments and reckless decisions. And frankly, this little display does nothing in his favor. Think about the kind of man he is, Miss Lori, and you come find me. You tell me if you think he deserves all the praise and attention he gets.”
