Chapter 1
My assistant, Josie pushed a stack of files across the table to me.
"Rare tumor. Late stage." She tapped the scans. "Surgical window closes in seventy-two hours."
You could count the surgeons on this coast who'd take that case on one hand.
I opened the chart to the first page.
High cheekbones. Cheeks gone hollow.
Richard Sterling.
Ten years ago my father went under for a surgery this man led and never woke up. He was dead three days later.
I closed the folder and pushed it back to the middle of the table.
"No."
Josie's hand was still on the stack. She blinked at me. "Dr. Vance. You—"
I stood and started unbuttoning my coat. "Change my flight. I'm going back to Norchester tonight."
"There isn't another surgeon in this state who can do this. You walk out and he dies."
"Not my problem." I hung the coat over the back of the chair, pulled the door open, and left.
Zett Hunt, the chief of cardiothoracic, came jogging up the hall to meet me.
"Dr. Vance, hear me out. This hospital has been building toward this surgery for three months. Do you know what it took to get you here? And now the family is going to—"
He put his right hand out.
I didn't take it.
It hung there. He pulled it back and wiped it down the leg of his slacks.
"Dr. Hunt." I looked at him. "I'll file for recusal. You'll have it in writing by the end of the day."
The smile went stiff on his face. He came a half step closer and dropped his voice. "Do you understand who this patient is? He founded this hospital. His son runs the group. His daughter-in-law is a Delacroix. You walk out on this and the family comes after us, there is nothing I can do for you."
"That's your problem." I went around him and headed for the elevator.
He came after me.
"Give me something. Is it the plan? Do you need equipment we don't have? Is it the team? Say the word and I'll replace every one of them."
"The equipment's fine. The plan's fine. The surgery is doable." I hit the down button. "You need a different surgeon."
"Is this about money? The family said name a number. They'll write the check blank."
"It has nothing to do with money. I'm not operating on this patient."
The elevator chimed. I stepped in and hit the button to close the doors.
"I'm not changing my mind. Find somebody else."
The doors started to slide shut, and through the gap I watched Zett dig for his phone. His hands were shaking so hard he couldn't get the screen open.
Down in the parking garage, Josie half jogged to keep up with me, out of breath.
"What is going on? You've taken cases ten times worse than this one. You looked at that file for five seconds and walked. Why?"
I stopped at my car. "Josie. Five years you've worked with me. Have you ever seen my hands shake in an OR?"
"No."
"If I pick up a scalpel for this one, they will."
There's no margin in cardiac surgery. Not a hair. And I can't hold that knife steady right now.
My phone went off in my pocket. Unknown number.
A: Dr. Vance, I heard you turned down the surgery. Could we meet and talk?
Then a second one.
A: How does a doctor stand there and let a patient die?
I blocked the number.
