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“Gave him anything he wanted. She gave him the salary, the budget, the room to do whatever he pleased, and absolutely no repercussions for leading a half-assed investigation. Especially when the body on the table was a woman. He will not be missed at the George Stanley.”
As Patten slowly sits back in her chair, I allow a grin to slide onto my face. “But I think you would be missed.”
Her face drains white. “You’re firing me?”
“Should you be fired?”
“No! I’m the best damn—”
Humored, I raise a hand to stop her. “I said ‘youwouldbe missed.’ I don’t know who hurt you in the past, Doctor Patten, but I’m not that person. You’ve done all you can to avoid me since I arrived, you assume I’m here to tear your department apart, and when asked if you should be fired, you shout instead of telling me the value you bring to the George Stanley.”
“Oh, well…” Her brows pinch closer together. “I—”
“Fortunately for you, I’ve done my research. Your staff stays on-budget, year after year. You submit your annual estimates when asked, you don’t overinflate, nor do you undersell. You request an amount that aligns with the productivity output from your shift, and your closed cases—not just yours personally, but your team’s in general—sits at ninety-seven percent.”
“Those other three are—”
“To be expected,” I interject. “Not something we hope for, but certainly reasonable. Your people speak highly of you.”
“Y-you asked?”
“Of course. The day-shift share the same opinion. The only complaint I’ve heard is of the clear breakdown in communication between day and night teams.”
“Well, that—”
“Is because you loathed Chant, and you were worried I’d be the same or worse. The way you run your department is commendable, Doctor Patten. Morale is high, even though you work god-awful hours. Your output is better than expected. And you advocate for your team to be paid fair wages—which, of course, is penciled into your budget. You go out of your way for your people, and because of that, I’m impressed.”
“Minka?” At my office door, Aubree stands in a floor-length gown that sparkles and brings my brows up high.
Patten looks across, too, and studies her much the same way I do.
“Sorry,” Aubree murmurs. “Will this take much longer?”
“Couple of minutes, Doctor Emeri. Is something wrong?”
“Er… nope.” She lets herself into my office and strolls across to delicately sit on my couch. “I’ll wait.”
“Aubree—”
“I’m not listening.” She literally plugs her ears. “But I need to talk to you, so be quick.”
Impatient, I bring my gaze back to Patten. “I’m not here to fire you or anyone on your team. But I will insist on reopening the lines of communication between day-shift and night. I’m not your enemy, and I’m not here to slow you down.”
“I understand.” Pushing up to stand—escaping while she’s on top, I suppose—Patten drops her hands back in her coat pockets. “I’ll do better with communication, Doctor Mayet. And I’ll stop dodging you in the halls.”
“Excellent.” I stand too and tilt my head to the left. “You can go. But if you fall into old habits and forget to communicate with me in the future, you might force me to make these meetings formal and a weekly occurrence. If that’s the only way I’ll be kept abreast of what’s happening here overnight, then that’s what I’ll do.”
“Understood.” Fleeing to the door, she grabs the handle and yanks it open, but before she escapes to the comfort of her work, she glances back to me and smiles. “And that thing with Drew Kernicke?”
“Mm?” I simply raise a brow in acknowledgment, because thinking about him still pisses me off.
“He and I went to medical school together.”
“Okay…?”
“He was a sexist douchebag back then, too.” Zipping through the door and along the hall to escape me, the only sound Patten leaves in her wake is the groaning of the door as it shuts, and Aubree’s soft giggles, despite the fingers still in her ears.
She was listening to every word. To believe she wasn’t would be foolish.
