He got out of bed and put coffee and hot water into a French press and went to wash up while it steeped. He stood in the shower, letting the water pound down on him to wash away that nightmare and the thought of the shame hed feel if he was no longer a doctor.

Dressed and sipping his coffee, he wondered what more hed have to offer Danielle.

He was a doctor. Thats what he knew. Thats what he was. Not an FBI agent.

Then it hit him. How would he feel if someone threatened his ability to be a doctor? It was bad enough that hed done it to himself. What if he was the kind of person who never took responsibility for their actions? Always found a way to blame other people? And someone did something that threatened that very notion of who he was as a person in the world? How viciously might that person fight back?

Would he be willing to kill?

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Danielle took a sip of coffee from her travel mug and put it back into the cupholder as she pulled up in front of Morgans apartment building and texted him that she was waiting. The building wasnt exactly a dump, but it definitely wasnt what shed imagined a successful doctor living in. Then shed heard about his impending divorce and how his wife was selling the fancy McMansion theyd been living in out in Arlington. That made a little more sense.

Only a little, though.

He could afford better. She was reasonably sure of that. It was almost as if he was punishing himself for something.

Morgan wasnt what shed imagined a successful doctor to be either. He definitely was cocky, but there was more going on there. He truly was mourning the loss of his resident. Danielles immediate assumption had been thered been something more going on there than a mentor/student relationship, but if there was, absolutely nobody seemed to know anything about it. Nobody had seen anything untoward and thered been no evidence of an affair in any of Lexas belongings.

Morgan came hustling out of the building. She hit the button to unlock the door. He stepped in, smelling of coffee and shampoo. Morning, she said.

I had a thought. He buckled his seat belt.

About what? she asked, putting the car into drive. She bit back an inward sigh. One of the perks of being an FBI agent was having a car assigned to you. She missed her own ride, though. She liked the feeling she got from driving a manual transmission, feeling like she was one with the car as the gears shifted. This thing was like a boat.

Maybe we were going at this from the wrong direction. Maybe its not a patient whos angry at members of the staff. Maybe its a colleague. His excitement palpable, he turned to look at her