My blood ran cold. “Dr. Rasmussen?”
Becca’s eyes brightened as if a light went on inside her head. “Dr. Mitchell, I can’t prove it, but if I had to guess who messed with your chart note, I would say it was Dr. Rasmussen. He made a comment to Becca about how people don’t change … and then he was the one who showed Becca your note.”
I surged to my feet without even thinking about the move. My body just took action, ready to spring at Dr. Rasmussen and pound his face. I grabbed Becca’s shoulders and hugged her briefly. “Thank you so much, Becca. You have no idea how much you helped me out.” I paused before I asked, “How is Emma doing?”
“Not good,” Becca answered with a breath of defeat. “She isn’t eating or sleeping, and she stays in her room if she’s not at work. I try to get her out, but she’s pulled inside herself.”
I cringed, thinking of the being of light who’d drawn me out of my darkness wasting away. “Are you moving to Montana too?”
“The timing doesn’t feel right for me.” She lifted a shoulder. “But maybe someday.” As I turned to leave, ready to right a wrong, Becca gently said, “You have my support, Alex. If there is anything I can do to help you, please let me know.”
“Thanks,” I replied before adding, “I’ll probably need it.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Alex
My shift ended and I headed home. I tried to call Emma again, but the call went to voice mail. Freezing me out wasn’t doing any good for my issues with rejection and abandonment, but I kept telling myself that, like my mother hadn’t planned to die, Emma hadn’t planned to panic.
I had to believe that’s what was happening here. She cared about me, maybe more than she’d planned to in such a short time, and she was scared. Maybe she wondered if she really knew me. I had changed quite a bit over our time together and was still getting to know parts of myself that had been under lock and key for years.
The whole situation had my head spinning on a psychological merry-go-round of terms, motivations, and trauma triggers.
To top off everything else, the only way I was going to get Emma to see the truth was if Dr. Rasmussen confessed to hacking into my account. I might have to file a formal charge, and there might not be a way to prove he’d done what I suspected he’d done.
I did my best to direct my thoughts into solving that problem.
Dr. Rasmussen was an egotistical hothead who only cared about himself. If he had gone so far as to figure out how to change my notes, he was willing to risk his job and a patient’s life to get what he wanted. He was dangerous, and I had to be smart about confronting him.
Unfortunately, the only plan I could come up with was to takethe voice recorder I’d used to record lectures in school and record our conversation while I poked the bear until his ego got the best of him and he talked.
I didn’t sleep well at all. The next morning, I texted Becca and asked her to let me know when Dr. Rasmussen left the TICU. I didn’t want her to know the whole plan, so I kept her involvement simple. If it backfired and I was the one looking for a job, I wouldn’t drag her down with me. The fact that I was willing to risk my career told me all I ever needed to know about how important Emma was to me.
Becca replied simply with a thumbs-up.
Around 11 a.m., a text came through saying that Dr. Rasmussen was in the southeast stairwell. I sprinted to the stairs, hitting the record button on the tape recorder in my pocket, and met him as he was on the landing of the CCU.He had his head down, looking at his phone.
Perfect.
I roughly bumped shoulders with him as I “pretended” to pass. The jarring was a lot less than I wanted to do, but I wasn’t out for revenge. I wanted to clear my name and get the girl. Darn it if Emma’s movies weren’t making me sentimental.
“Watch it, buddy,” Dr. Rasmussen snapped before he knew who it was. He lifted his gaze from the screen and broke into a big grin. “I’m sorry, Dr. Mitchell. Run along and hide under whatever rock you came from.”
“Excuse me?” I answered in shock. I’d thought I had been prepared for whatever ugly words would spew from his mouth, but this guy was a piece of work.
“You heard me. Stick to the OR, where you don’t have to talk to anyone. You can’t offend people who aren’t actually conscious,” he practically gloated.
“I can take care of my own patients just fine, thank you very much,” I replied as I pretended I was going to walk away. Making him feel insignificant seemed like a good way to get under his skin.
“I hope you take better care of them than you did Emma. She was too good for you anyway.”
I turned and squared my shoulders. Hearing him say her name made my hands curl into fists. “She isn’t any of your concern.” My insides boiled with barely controlled anger. I worked to school my face. He hadn’t given me more than enough to file a complaint with HR for bullying. I needed the goods, and if I had to take a hundred insults to get them, I would. But if he knew what was good for him, he’d leave Emma out of this.
He cocked his head and jerked his chin out. “Oh, I wouldn’t be too sure about that. I’d give it a week, and she’ll be mine.”
“Don’t plan on it,” I answered through tight lips. Obviously, he hadn’t talked to Emma—she’d be out of town before he realized he’d lost her.
Nick scoffed. “You’re toasted, Dr. Mitchell. You’ve burned your bridges, and you are never getting her back.” He looked around, though I wasn’t sure if he was looking for an audience or making sure he didn’t have one. “I made sure of that.”
