Dr. Cross made a note, her pen scratching against paper. "The original complaint regarding sexual misconduct at the district hospital remains unsubstantiated. However, this new information about your prior marriage has opened additional questions about potential conflicts of interest."
My stomach sank. "What does that mean?"
"It means the investigation will continue." She closed the folder. "We'll need to conduct further interviews and review your work on the protocol more thoroughly. Given your personal history, the board wants to ensure that all decisions have been made objectively."
"They have been. Every decision we've made has been based on medical evidence."
"I'm sure it has. But we have a process to follow." She removed her glasses and met my eyes. "There's something else. During our review of Dr. Karras's records from Metropolitan, we found a file that may be of personal significance to you."
She slid another paper across the desk.
I looked down. The Metropolitan General letterhead was familiar. The date was from five years ago, just three months before our divorce.
Patient: Calla Karras.
Department: Obstetrics.
Procedure: D&C.
Diagnosis: Spontaneous abortion, incomplete.
The words didn't make sense. I read them again, allowing for my brain to catch up with what my eyes were seeing.
Obstetrics. D&C. Spontaneous abortion.
Calla had been pregnant.
She'd miscarried.
And I'd never known.
"Dr. Reed?" Dr. Cross's voice pulled me out of my daze. "Are you alright?"
I couldn't answer or do anything except stare at the paper in my hands. It contained the information that reduced the worst moment of my wife's life to clinical procedures.
"I didn't know about this," I heard myself say.
"I'm sorry." Her voice softened slightly. "Patient privacy laws prevent me from sharing any details beyond what's in that file. If you want more information, you'll need to speak with Dr. Karras directly. Or contact Metropolitan General."
I stood.
"The investigation," I said, my voice hollow. "How long?"
"A few more days. We'll be in touch."
I nodded and left.
I found myself driving to Metropolitan General. I couldn't remember most of it. The highway blurred past, exits and signs and other cars all fading into background noise while my mind stayed fixed on that piece of paper.
Spontaneous abortion. D&C procedure. Calla's name typed neatly at the top like it was another patient file, another case, and another woman who'd walked into that hospital and lost a child.
I tried to remember what happened three months before our divorce. We'd been fighting constantly. The fellowship offer had arrived. I'd accepted Obsidian without consulting her. Every conversation had been a minefield.
But a baby.Ourbaby. How could she have kept that from me?
The parking lot at Metropolitan was half-empty when I pulled in. I sat in my car for a long time, staring at the buildingwhere I'd spent years of my life. Where, apparently, she'd lost our child while I was somewhere else.
I walked through the main entrance. The lobby looked the same as I remembered, all beige walls and uncomfortable chairs. A few people glanced up as I passed, but no one stopped me. I still had my Obsidian badge, but I looked like I belonged.
