Fury opened in my veins, oozing through me, black and bilious. He was corrupt. Greedy. Arrogant.

He’d taken everything from me.

Maybe Nate had been right. Maybe how you got to your goal showed the sort of person you were. But I didn’t care.

I knelt next to Dr. Palmer. “You’re right,” I whispered. Just like him when he stood there and let my father die, I had nothing to feel sorry for now. “The end does justify the means.”

A rush of power, terrifying and immense, swept over me.

I wiped the gun down with my shirt and pushed it into Dr. Palmer’s limp hand. I wrapped his fingers around the cold trigger. I pressed the barrel to his temple.

And I pulled the trigger.

CHAPTER 47

7 MONTHS LATER

I FINISHED RECORDING NOTES on my Dictaphone, tidied the blood forms, called in a handful of prescription refill requests, sent an email requesting a chest X-ray. Once I’d finished, I closed my laptop and went to the medical staff office where Julia was writing up patient notes.

After news of Dr. Palmer’s involvement in the distribution of opioids got out, the Skamania Police Department had recommended the DA drop all charges against Julia in exchange for community service and time at a rehab center.

“Hey, Julia.” I sat next to her, trying not to wince. The knife wound in my side had been slow to heal and sometimes still pained me. But I was alive. I had to be grateful for that. “How are you feeling today?”

She smiled. “Really good, actually. My new trial drug is really helping.”

“Good, good. I’m heading off. I’ll see you at Josh’s birthday party tomorrow, right?”

“I wouldn’t miss it!”

I wandered through the hall, shutting doors and making sure everything was in order. It was quieter than normal for a Saturday.

“Bye, Marjorie!” I called. “Want me to lock up the supply closet?”

“Goddamn it!” Her bulk shifted in the leather chair as she stood. “People still can’t seem to remember.” She came along the hall and reached past me to lock the door before patting my shoulder. “Thanks, Dr. Sweeney. You enjoy your weekend with your boy.”

It was a balmy July day, the sun bright, the air clean and clear. Summer’s breath hovered gently on the breeze. The jagged mountains and sweeps of evergreen trees stood out against the cornflower-blue skies.

I got in my car slowly, grimacing in pain. I knew I was lucky. If Dr. Palmer had stabbed me just a fraction of an inch to one side, he’d likely have pierced my bowel, which would’ve led to sepsis and eventual death without treatment. Instead, my quick movement meant I’d been stabbed in the side, and he’d missed all my major organs. The cold temperatures had also helped slow my blood loss.