After that the board will face a decision no small town ever wants to make.
Healthcare…
or survival.
I close the file.
“After that,” I say calmly,
“we see who they sacrifice first.”
66
Laney
Dr. Hayes doesn’t say it in the waiting room.
He pulls us into the back office and shuts the door behind us.
His voice is barely above a whisper.
“If this doesn’t clear,” he says, “I may have to shut down.”
For a moment the words don’t make sense.
The clinic.
Closing.
My stomach drops.
“What about the kids?” someone asks from the doorway.
“The elderly?” another voice adds.
Dr. Hayes rubs a hand over his face.
“I’m trying,” he says quietly. “But if the bank holds the note and the insurance freezes coverage…”
He doesn’t finish the sentence.
He doesn’t need to.
Saint stands beside me, silent.
But the tension in him is almost visible.
His jaw is clenched so tight I think his teeth might crack.
Outside the office, voices are rising.
People arguing.
People whispering.
Fear spreading through the waiting room like smoke.
I feel cold all over.
