“I know you were writing prescriptions for Megan when she wasn’t your patient. I know that at one time Megan was taking OxyContin, thanks to you.”

Dr. Rossi’s face flares red from her neck, her eyes pinballing from me to the office and back.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I have proof. Proof that would be easy to share with the police, and that is exactly what I’ll do if you don’t follow my instructions. OK?”

She blinks hard, as though trying to wake herself up. I open my palms towards her.

“It’s up to you—either me, or the police.”

“Yes, yes, I understand.”

“Good. I’ll give you a few minutes to tell reception they need to cancel your first appointment this morning. I’ll be waiting in that car”—I point and she glances towards it—“in the road just to the left of the café. If you’re not there in five minutes I’ll be calling the police and giving them the evidence that links you to Megan. You got that?”

She fixes her jaw, and nods. “I’ll be there in five minutes.”

Then she turns sharply away from me and walks towards the office entrance, as though I was just a smear on the asphalt she had to step over.

Four minutes and forty seconds later the passenger door opens. Dr. Rossi winces as she nudges away the rubbish in the footwell to make room for her feet. I wait until she’s shut the door and put her seat belt on, and then we drive silently away. I stop a few minutes later, on a tree-lined residential street. She looks surprised.

“Here? You want to talk here?”

I shrug. “As good as anywhere, unless you want to be somewhere more public?”

She shakes her head. In her lap she makes her hands into fists, but otherwise she seems calm.

“OK. Are you ready to tell me why you gave Megan those pills?”

She sighs, looks up to the sky through the windshield for a moment, before turning towards me. Her face is impassive as she talks.

“It all happened so long ago it feels like another lifetime. Grace and her mum were registered with my colleague, Dr. Marsh, but because Grace’s health was so complex everyone who worked at the office knew them. We all knew, of course, about the son’s death, and they were always so sweet, so smiley. They’d bring muffins in for the staff, that sort of thing. So, as you can imagine, there was a lot of goodwill towards them. Megan became close to our then administrator, who put her forward for the two-day-a-week admin role. Everyone who worked at the office thought it was a good idea, a good way to support them both.” She glances out of the window, sighs, before she continues. “One night, Dr. Marsh was on leave and I was working late with Dr. Brannagh—Jeremy. We thought we were alone, but we weren’t. Grace had the last appointment with Jeremy. We thought they’d long gone, but Megan forgot something and came back to Jeremy’s room. We hadn’t shut the door properly.” In her lap, Dr. Rossi’s knuckles are white. “She saw, well, she saw us. Together.”