Page 31 of Mirror Image

I tried to speak, but nothing came out. He guided me inside, settled me in a chair, and waited.

And then it all came out of me in a single, jagged breath: Cami’s visit, her parents’ fear, the intake, Kellogg snapping at me, refusing to admit her. By the time I finished, I was crying—ugly, gasping tears I hated giving him or anyone else.

Julian handed me tissues and crouched beside me. “Jenn, you didn’t do anything wrong,” he said gently. “David Kellogg can be . . . difficult. What you’re describing is unacceptable, and I’ll deal with it. But you? You’re safe. I won’t let anyone jeopardize your residency.”

That promise—the confidence in his voice—felt like someone lifting a boulder off my chest.

“I was afraid he’d retaliate,” I remember whispering. “That he’d try to get me fired.”

“Nonsense,” he said firmly. “I’ll keep you off his rotation for a while, give you breathing room. You did what you were trained to do. This will blow over.”

He squeezed my shoulder like a father reassuring his kid after a nightmare.

“Go home,” he said. “Sleep. Let me take care of the rest.”

And I believed him. Completely.

How tragic that I did.

Exhausted, I went home and collapsed into bed—sleep brought a few hours’ peace before the ringing phone dragged me back.

“Hello?” I rasped, unable to summon the energy—or the will—to sound awake.

“Jennifer?” A woman’s voice.

“Mm-hmm.”

“Jennifer, this is Maggie O’Day.”

My eyes flew open. Maggie was the director of residents at Miami Killian. If she was calling me, then Kellogg had probably reported me for insubordination.

Shit.

If they put a permanent note in my file, I might never get a job after residency.

“Um—hi, Maggie. How are you?”

She didn’t bother with pleasantries.

“I’m calling to inform you that your residency has been suspended pending an internal investigation,” she said crisply. “You’ll receive written notice—”

I bolted upright. “I’m sorry—what did you just say?”

“Dr. Flores, you will not be permitted to practice until the investigation is complete. Someone will contact you to arrange a meeting with legal.”

Oh my God—he’d actually gotten me suspended.

“I don’t . . .” I stopped, rubbing a hand over my face. “Is that really necessary? He was completely out of line. Dr. Kellogg was in a foul mood last night. I wasn’t the only one he yelled at.”

Silence. Then—

“Dr. Flores—Jenn—did you treat and discharge a woman named Cami Miller last night?”

Something twisted low in my stomach, acid rising in my throat.

“I did . . .”

“Perhaps you’re not aware—Miss Miller died by suicide a few hours later. Her parents are, understandably, distraught. Their attorney has already been in contact.”