the linoleum floor as if the more intensely she stared, the more she could avoid Matt’s presence on the other end of the phone.
“I can meet you after you’re done working,” Matt offered, saving her from having to respond to his earlier statement.
“Okay, but not at the hospital.” She actually didn’t know where the best place to talk with Matt was. Nowhere, she thought. She wanted to avoid a public scene but it would be worse to be together in a private place.
“I’ll pick you up at nine—will that give you enough time to finish up? You can tell me then where you want to go.” He was giving her control, but the gesture did little to put her at ease.
“Yes, that’s fine. I’ll be waiting outside my place at nine. See you then.” And she hung up before she could embarrass herself further.
Matt was becoming more of a contradiction each time she talked to him. Everything she had believed about him was changing. She’d thought he didn’t want her, but now he did. She’d thought what they had been together had been a lie, but he’d said she’d belong to him always. Now, after nine years, he thought they needed to talk about that night, after he had done everything possible to avoid doing that.
Kate returned to the waiting resident and did her best to focus on the patient’s history. After examining the middle aged woman together and then arranging her admission for management of a partial small bowel obstruction, it was eight p.m., and Kate found herself sprinting home.
By the time she entered the brownstone apartment she was breathless. She had twenty minutes before Matt would be arriving, and she knew she had just enough time to shower and change. Years of rushing to and from the hospital at a moment’s notice had taught her to be efficient.
She showered and washed her hair, toweling it dry and twisting it into a knot on top of her head. She rubbed in the lotion her skin desperately needed after long days spent in the dry, non-infectious conditions the hospital maintained. In her bedroom, she managed to find a pair of clean jeans and a long-sleeved black sweater. She was just bending to put on socks when the front buzzer rang. She slipped her feet into tall black leather boots, grabbed her wool coat and applied lip moisturizer as she locked her apartment and proceeded down the stairs to meet Matt.
He was waiting in the entry. He had obviously been home since the office, because the business suit was gone and in its place was a pair of dark jeans with a dress shirt and blue sweater layered over the top. Despite the layered look there was no mistaking the broadness of his shoulders and the build of his chest. The chest she had seen, had felt pressed against her. Damn, this is not what she needed to be thinking.
Matt didn’t say anything. He held open the front door to her building and followed her out to his car, where he opened the passenger door for her as well. Once she was settled he closed the door securely and circled to the driver’s side. It felt like being taken care of, it felt nice, and she didn’t want to be feeling that again with Matt.
“Where do you want to go?” Matt asked, turning towards her with his full attention.
“I don’t know,” Kate answered honestly, too off balance by the situation to think properly.
“We should probably go somewhere private where our discussion can’t be overheard if we’re talking about the case. That leaves out public restaurants. So the options are my office or my apartment—”
“Office,” Kate answered, before Matt had even finished. There was no way she wanted to be back in his apartment with him. Things had gotten way out of control the other night and she would be a fool to think that couldn’t happen again.
“Okay, as you wish.” He shifted the car into gear and they entered traffic. Kate avoided small talk, not knowing what to say, what it was safe to say, in this new weird dynamic between them. They wove down the streets of Boston towards Matt’s office.
They arrived and Matt parked in the underground garage. He used a swipe card to open the door and unlock the elevator that carried them up to his top-floor office. Once inside, he led her through, not to his office, where she would actually have been uncomfortable given their last interaction there, but to a conference room.
The view was beautiful. Floor-to-ceiling glass windows highlighted Boston at night. The sight of the whole city spread out in front of her made her feel less important and actually calmer about the impending discussion.
“Sparkling water okay for you?” Matt asked, breaking her attention from the beauty of the city.
“Sure.” She took her place in one of the chairs opposite him. “Where do you want to start?” she asked.
He nodded at her and took out a pen and pad of paper. “What was your official role the evening of Mr. Weber’s death?”
“I was the chief surgical resident. I serve as backup in all situations—resident illness, difficult cases and high patient volumes. That night the on-call resident, Dr. Jensen, had been called away to do a retrieval with the transplant team, and I was called in in his absence.” Okay, so maybe this was going to be okay, clean, surgical. She relaxed back into the leather conference room chair.
“What was Dr. Reed’s official role?”
“Dr. Reed was the second on-call vascular surgeon. We have a backup system for all the major surgical disciplines so that in the event a surgeon is tied up in a prolonged surgical case, another patient can still receive timely care and surgical management.”
“How often is the second on call needed?”
“About once every three months, but Tate might be better able to answer that question.”
“Dr. Reed,” Matt stated firmly.
“Pardon?” Kate asked, not understanding what the question was.
“Refer to Tate Reed as Dr. Reed in all your discussion of the case. Referring to him as Tate implies you know him beyond your professional relationship.”
Kate couldn’t tell if this was just Matt the lawyer talking or if it was personal. She decided she didn’t need to know and waited from him to ask another question.
“When were you asked to consult in Mr. Weber’s care?”
“At about ten p.m. I was already in-house, dealing with some issues in a postoperative patient, when the emergency room doctor called me.”
“How soon after did you see him?”
“I went downstairs to the emergency department immediately and started my assessment. While I was examining him, the radiologist called and notified me of the CT scan findings.”
“When did you first try to contact Dr. Reed?” Matt lowered and softened his voice for this question. They were getting into the part of the evening that was less clinical and more personal.
“I called Dr. Reed on his cell phone immediately after I finished on the phone with the radiologist.”
“How many times did you try to call Dr. Reed?”
“I didn’t count, I just kept redialing when I didn’t get through.”
“Did you leave any messages?”
“Yes.”
