“Pressure is dropping, doctor,” a surgical nurse interrupted. “We don’t have any family here. Do you want to hold until?—”
The surgeon shook his head. “I’m not scrubbed in to let this man bleed out on my table.” He held out a hand. “Scalpel.”
The blade cut a long midline incision from sternum to pelvis. Blood welled up immediately—dark, venous, too much of it. Suction pulled it away but more kept coming.
“Clamps.”
The team clamped, packed, suctioned. They tried to find the source of the bleed, to get control, to buy enough time to repair what had ruptured.
Minutes passed and the monitors beeped warnings with alarms going off while the numbers on the screen kept falling.
The surgeon glanced at the clock, then at the monitor, and watched the line that had been jumping with each heartbeat go flat. His hands stilled in the open abdomen as blood pooled faster than suction could clear it, and the monitor showed a heart with nothing left to pump.
“He’s too far gone. I’m calling it. Time of death: two twenty-seven.”
Gloves came off and the drape stayed in place over the open abdomen, but all work stopped. Someone turned off the alarms.
Dr. Cole Vaughn walked to the corner of the OR, pulled off his cap and gloves, running a palm over his hair as he observed the scene. He stood there for a moment, letting the loss settle.
After over twenty years as a surgeon, every death still lodged in his gut, and this one was no different. The silence, after so much chaos, was heavy.
He stripped off his gown and mask, then pushed through the OR doors into the hallway.
Chapter One
HARPER
The coffee machine hissed and gurgled in the pre-dawn quiet of my kitchen. I yawned, shuffling down the hall toward the heavenly scent wafting through my condo.
I passed the living room, glancing over just to admire it. It was comfy, cozy, made just for me. Everything was in its place because that’s how I functioned best—pillows arranged just so, books stacked on the coffee table, a soft blanket folded over the arm of a chair.
My slippers flapped against the heels of my feet as I entered the kitchen. The tablet that lived on the island came to life with a tap. I liked listening to overnight shenanigans while I waited for the coffee to brew.
After one last gurgle from the coffee machine, I filled a thick ceramic mug, added a splash of cream, and took my first sip while watching the city wake up through the sliding glass doors off of the dining room. The city wasn’t even awake yet.
This was the time of the day I protected the most. The moment before anyone could demand anything from me, before anything could be spoiled.
The iPad blared reports about some city council meeting and a traffic accident on the interstate; nothing that required my full attention, which was good because my mind was already running through the day ahead.
I had a morning briefing with the rest of the Risk Management and Patient Advocacy teams, I’d scheduled a follow-up on an orthopedic complaint that came in the week before, and I needed to complete an assessment prior to my lunch meeting with the new Director of Surgical Services.
In the pocket of my robe, my phone vibrated. I pulled it out, glanced at the screen, then clicked my tongue softly and slid my finger across the device.
“Did you know most people are still asleep at six in the morning?” I asked, trying and failing to sound stern.
“The early bird gets the worm, I heard.” My assistant, Rowan, laughed. “Every morning, you get an attitude about how early I call you and every single morning, you’re already up.”
“That doesn’t mean I want you on my phone.”
“Take a few more sips of that bitter ass dark roast that’s stripping the lining out of your intestinal tract.”
“I’m four sips in, actually. If you’re jealous of my custom coffee blend, just say that.”
“Ain’t nobody jealous of that expensive bean water. My taste buds don’t require a second mortgage.”
“Don’t come for my coffee when you’re drinking a peppermint mocha thing that smells like a Bath & Body Works candle.”
“Excuse you! My coffee blend isdelicious.”
