People heard. It would be their word against mine. He said/they said. The board would never pull a doctor’s license on a flimsy claim like that—especially one as dedicated to his patients as I am. Or would they?

Must do what’s fair.

No witnesses.

I open my office door and step out into the hallway. The fluorescent overhead lights are hurting my eyes. With the pistol hanging at my side, I head down the corridor into our newly furnished patient waiting area. My heart is pounding against my sternum. Blood is churning in my ears. The room has begun to spin.

I wish there were another way.

Two women are in the waiting area—Margaret Dempsey and Allison Roundtree. They both look restless, disturbed by what they heard. I wonder if they were talking about just leaving—deserting my practice and transferring their records to another doctor—probably to my partner, Carl.

Sunlight in the foyer is illuminating dust motes circling in the air. Small details, yet so clear. I double-check that I’ve got two additional clips tucked inside the pocket of my white coat.

“No witnesses!” I cry out.

Ashley is sitting behind the reception counter, looking distressed. The new nurse, Crystal, is behind her. Ashley is thirty. Two kids. Her glasses hang over her breasts, suspended by a gold lanyard that sparkles against her tight-fitting black sweater.

Details.

There is no other way. I need to protect my career.

For a moment I feel uncertain … confused. Then my resolve returns. Must act before they see the gun.

I raise it in front of me.

I’m doing this for us, Carolyn. It’s the only way to save the children—to save you and our way of life. Any doctor threatened like I am would handle things the same way. The first shot explodes in my ears. The gun recoils. I fire again and again and again. There is blood everywhere.

Glass shatters.

Ashley looks up at me wide-eyed.

I shoot her in the forehead. She flies backwards and lands on top of Crystal. I feel calm now. In control. I’m a doctor, and I always will be. I begged her to lose weight. I had every right to yell at her. In fact, I didn’t even really yell—just raised my voice a little. I walk with determination back down the hallway and turn toward our tiny kitchen. Teresa and Camille are there. They were undoubtedly discussing what to do about me when they heard the shots. Now they are on their feet, screaming.

“No witnesses!” I shout again and again. “No witnesses!”

My office manager tries to speak, but I can’t make out what she’s saying. My finger tightens, then loosens, then tightens again. The pistol spits fire. Teresa is hit in the throat, Camille in the chest. The women crumble like rag dolls. Camille tries to get up. A shot to the back of her head settles her down. I replace the clip.

Almost done.

Back to the hall. Carl Franklin is in his office. He may not have heard what went on with Roberta, but maybe he did. Carl was never much of a doctor to begin with. He’ll probably be ecstatic when they pull my license and tell him to take over my patients because I’m never going to be allowed to be a doctor again.