Page 51 of The Final Cut

Her head comes up fast, anger sparking.

I hold her stare. “You are the reason she is afraid. Do not confuse that with fault, though.”

She does not know what to do with that. Good. Let it sit. Let it bite back against the harsher lie she keeps trying to tell herself.

I slow the motor near a stand of cypress and let the skiff drift. Water taps against the hull. A dragonfly skims past, blue body bright as a sliver of glass. Reva’s hand lifts to follow its path, then drops. Somewhere farther off, something splashes and vanishes.

I did not bring her here to talk, but I talk anyway because some truths need open air.

“Shiloh came to the hospital last night.”

Reva’s eyes sharpen.

“To switch shifts with me,” I say. “Nash needed to return to Cal’s room after the doctor’s update. Shiloh came to take the hall.”

“He didn’t tell me.”

“No.”

The skiff drifts another foot. I correct with the motor, then cut it completely. Silence drops in around us, deep and wet.

“There was a shift change,” I say. “Nursing staff. Two real. One…substitute.”

Her fingers tighten around the edge of the bench.

I watch her face. I need to see when she understands. I need to see how much to give at once.

“She made it past the station with valid credentials and the right uniform. Wrong shoes. Wrong hands. No fatigue in her posture. She had a syringe in her pocket and Cal’s room number written on the inside of her wrist.”

Reva’s lips pinch. The color drains from her face, leaving rage behind it.

“She was there for Cal.”

“Yes. Or you, if you’d been there.”

“Did she get inside his room?”

“No.”

I see the next question coming before she asks it.

“What happened to her?”

The swamp holds still around us.

“I shut it down.”

Her eyes stay on mine. She knows me well enough now to hear what I’m not saying.

“How?”

I wave my hand in a dismissive gesture. “Permanently.”

A muscle flickers in her cheek.

“She was young,” I say.

I do not know why I add it. Maybe because Shiloh’s face when he saw her on the floor will stay with me longer than the girl’s face. Maybe because Reva deserves to know what her survival is costing people around her. Maybe because I am tired of truths arriving dressed in polite clothes.