Chapter 9 - The Doctor Who Wasn't There
I stared at the signature. “How can a retired doctor sign this?”
Amara pointed at a date beneath it. “Because somebody copied an old order and forgot to change the license number.”
We didn't speak for a moment. The camera above the examination door blinked, its red light steady.
“What happens now?” I asked.
“I call the supervising physician, document the discrepancy, and refuse transport.”
“Can they fire you?”
“They can try.” Her mouth tightened. “I've stayed quiet about too much already.”
She used the clinic phone, not her personal one, and made the call within earshot of a second nurse. I watched her log the time and every response. Dad always said truth needs a date.
Colson arrived before the physician called back. “The van is waiting.”
“Then the van can wait longer,” Amara said.
His gaze sharpened. “Don't make a career-ending mistake.”
“I'd rather lose my job than falsify a medical record.”
He leaned against the doorframe. “You think the people investigating will protect you when they see your signature on the old paperwork?”
Color rose in Amara's cheeks. He knew what she had signed.
I stepped forward. “Leave her out of it. I'm the person you're trying to move.”
“You're a convicted offender who injured an officer,” Colson said. “Keep that in mind.”
The clinic phone rang. Amara answered, then held it toward him. “State physician. He wants to speak with you.”
Colson didn't take it. He walked away.
Back on the tier that evening, Rhea found me folding my sheets.
“Good,” she said. “You're still here.”
“Tell me about Cedar House.”
Her expression went cold. “Who gave you that name?”
“A transport sheet with mine on it.”
Rhea glanced toward the stairs. “Cedar House is where they take the women who know too much.”
“Is my father there?”
May you like
She didn't answer. Instead she said, “If they find out you know its name, they'll come for me before they come for you.”
Then the prison loudspeaker crackled: “Rhea Vale. Report to the captain's office immediately.”
