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“Why now?” Harris asked. “What’s changed?”
Randall looked up, staring into her eyes. There was a type of clarity there she hadn’t seen before. His voice was quiet, but steady. “Everything.”
She needed specifics. She had to know she could trust him. “Like what?”
“My wife’s having a kid.” The smile that blossomed over his face was like the sun after a rainstorm. “It’s gonna be a—”
Harris saw the red blossom across his forehead at the same time she heard the gunshot. She felt the spray of blood hit her cheeks and lips. Her eyes closed involuntarily, but Randall’s face burned its way into her memory. The shock on his face. The vacancy of his eyes. The slackness of his smile.
He was dead before his body hit the ground.
Harris knew she had to make a decision. She could either launch herself after the flash drive, which had bounced off the bench and skittered across the walkway, or she could vault over the bench and use it as a shield against whoever had fired at them.
The few people left along the walkway screamed and ran away. All except for one man. The shadow cast by his hoodie hid his face, but the streetlights glinted off the pistol in his hand. He raised it and pointed it at her.
Harris made her choice. She launched forward into a somersault, grabbing the flash drive just as she began her roll. When she came up, she had already cleared half the distance between her and shooter. She could either throw herself to the side or run straight at him, taking him by surprise. All it took was the passing idea that this might’ve been the person who killed David. As soon as the thought entered her mind, it locked in, and she made her choice.
The shooter adjusted his aim, but Harris was already on the move. A bullet whizzed by her ear, close enough to make her flinch. But she didn’t stop moving. She dropped and rolled to the side, forcing the man to recenter himself to get off another shot.
As Harris came up, she was close enough to take two more steps to reach out and wrap her hands around his neck. She could see the whites of his eyes now, the green of his irises. She could hear his ragged breaths mingling with her own.
His arm adjusted. He had her in his sights.
She was close now. Close enough to take him down.
Who had the faster reaction time? If she ducked to the side, would he compensate quick enough?
The last thing Harris heard was the crack of a gunshot.
And the last thing she felt was the heat of a white-hot bullet piercing her flesh.
37
The last twenty-four hours had been a whirlwind of activity. New Orleans’ finest had arrived on scene shortly after the hospital’s security team collected Heather. They’d taken her downtown in handcuffs. A hush settled over the hospital as they escorted her through the doors, and even those who didn’t know why they’d arrested her sensed something momentous had happened.
Two officers stayed behind to get Jason and Cassie’s side of the story. It was clear they hadn’t expected them to have conducted a thorough investigation. There was still plenty of evidence to collect, but at least the authorities knew where to start. They had information about the second apartment and knew about Heather’s sister. It wouldn’t be hard to put together a timeline, even with Heather’s multiple personas.
Heather knew they had caught her red-handed. They had seen her coming out of the room seconds before the man with the amputated limbs had died. They’d given her a warning a month prior for improper conduct, though Cassie didn’t know the specifics. Tulane had fired Charli over similar circumstances, so it seemed like Heather’s UMC persona, Brooke, had already been one step away from a similar fate.
The hospital staff had reacted in one of two ways. They either blamed themselves, or they blamed the hospital. The ones who blamed themselves cried in the hallways or the breakroom as they learned the truth of what had happened across the city in the last year. Cassie heard dozens of names whispered from one medical staff member to the next. There would be no way to tell for sure if this patient or that had been one of Heather’s victims, but the police had promised to investigate every death that fit the profile.
The ones who blamed the hospital were not as easy to console. Talk began to circulate about medical malpractice and how the hospital had swept it under the rug. Settling out of court. Doctors not being written up when they should have been. Mistakes not being reported. People not being held responsible. Those who had been flying under the radar got defensive. Those who had turned the other way confessed their sins. It wouldn’t be easy to sort through all the stories to find the truth, but it would happen in time.
By that evening, the UMC’s CEO had released a statement condemning Heather’s actions and promising to investigate all allegations of misconduct. Other hospitals echoed his sentiments, though they felt empty. Those who knew the people in power had done their best to cover up the misconduct refused to sympathize with the position they were in now.
Word spread quickly and the story was on every major news channel, locally and nationally. They didn’t name names, but it was only a matter of time. The public outcry was enormous, and as friends and family learned what had truly happened to their loved ones, the despair would only grow. Cassie couldn’t imagine what they were going through, not even Jason and his family.
Kiki channeled her anger into action. She became the unofficial point person, working to keep families organized and informed as they showed up at the hospital, demanding answers. The police set up barriers on the surrounding streets to keep everyone at bay. It took half the department to ensure ambulances could get in and out without delay.
It was dark by the time Cassie, Jason, and Kiki left for the night. Cassie had a late-morning flight the next day, and even though Jason wasn’t leaving until the day after, he wanted to spend as much time with his family as possible. Kiki had already agreed to return the next morning, and there was talk about demanding a meeting with the hospital’s CEO and his board members. The families of the victims wanted answers, and they would make enough noise to get them.
The night air hit Cassie as soon as the sliding glass doors opened, brushing her hair off the back of her neck and providing cool relief for the first time in hours. Police barricades lined the sidewalk on one side of the entrance. The officers had instructed all protestors to stay out of the road and allow a single thruway for foot traffic.
Kiki led them in the opposite direction and around the corner to where they had parked in the general lot behind the hospital. There were at least twice as many vehicles now, and Cassie was sure half of them belonged to those protesting out front.
As they crossed the street, a man emerged from between a pair of vehicles, shifting a pair of eyeglasses to the top of his head and hoisting a briefcase higher on his shoulder. He looked about Kiki’s age, a little younger than Cassie, with bronze skin, shining white teeth, and perfectly gelled hair.
He stopped when he saw Kiki and a smile spread across his face. “Ms. Broussard, what a pleasant surprise.”
