“You’re dangerous, Doc.”
The words leave my mouth barely audible.
“I’m right.”
“Usually the same thing.”
I reach out. I don’t take the paper. I take her hand.
Her fingers are cold, the skin smooth, but the bone structure underneath holds like steel. Mine run warm. The contrast sends a jolt up my arm that nearly knocks the wind out of me.
She looks down at our hands. Then up at me. Her breath catches.
“Boyd—”
“You did well. This changes everything. It proves intent. It proves a conspiracy. Hutchinson can use this.”
“Does it keep me alive?”
“It gives you leverage. Leverage keeps you alive.”
I squeeze her hand once, tight. A promise. Then I let go.
The loss of contact hits me physically. A cold spot takes over where her skin was. I want to take it back. I want to pull her in.
I pick up the paper instead.
“I’ll scan this. Send it to Hutch. He can get a warrant for the body before they cremate it. We need to move fast.”
She hesitates.
“I have the photo too.”
“What?”
“The injection site. I took a picture with my personal phone before they came in. It’s time-stamped.”
“You have a photo?”
“I do.”
I stare at her. She didn’t just secure the chart. She secured the smoking gun.
“You realize what that makes you?”
“A witness.”
“A target. The primary target.”
“I was already a target.”
I turn back to the laptop, forcing myself to focus on the mission. On the data. On anything but the woman standing next to me, who just escalated this war from a skirmish to a nuclear exchange.
But she doesn’t move.
“You checked the perimeter.”
The change in subject throws me.
