Chapter 5: Chief of Surgery

I took Monday morning off and wore my gray scrubs to Commonwealth anyway.

The chief of surgery's suite was on the top floor.

It had carpet so thick my clogs made no sound.

Monday at eight was his teaching conference.

I knew because I'd sat in the back of it once at sixteen, waiting for a ride he forgot to give me.

The door was open.

There were twenty residents around the long table in white coats, and a slideshow about bile ducts.

My father stood at the head of the table with a laser pointer.

He saw me in the doorway and the red dot froze on the screen.

"Clare."

"Morning, Dad."

Twenty heads turned.

His assistant half rose from her desk outside. "Dr. Albright, I'm so sorry, she just walked..."

"It's fine," my father said. He didn't sound fine.

I walked to the head of the table.

I took the intake photo out of my bag and laid it face up beside his coffee.

Verity in gray scrubs. My old license in her hand.

"This came out of your hospital's donor file," I said. "That's not me. That's Verity, holding my license. She sat my advocate interview as me."

A resident near the window put her pen down.

"Your email says it was a clerical error."

My father's eyes went to the photo and away again, fast.

"This isn't the place."

"You closed it in two days. You didn't call me once. You didn't ask me a single question." I kept my voice even. "Look at it."

He didn't.

He looked at the screen with the bile ducts.

"Clare. Please. Not in front of my residents."

"Your residents should see it. One day one of them is going to be asked to close a file like this."

Nobody in the room breathed.

"I'm going to the police," I said. "Right now. I wanted you to hear it from me."

"Your sister is sick," he said, very quietly. "If you do this you'll destroy her."

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