Page 49

Dinah

The clinic’s security lights turn on automatically when the nose of the Excursion edges into the spot by the front doors.

In my pocket, Joe’s phone buzzes with the notification of the security system.

I withdraw the device, dismissing the alarm.

I’ll need to clear the event from the log, but I can do that once everything is done.

I use my key to unlock the front door. It swings open silently, and all the lights are out, the hall a long swallow of blackness.

I flip on the lights and walk past the patient rooms, quietly counting as I move.

Only five patients right now with yesterday’s checkout. Five patients, one remaining problem.

I stop at the supply room and squat to see the third shelf. Needles and syringes. Alcohol swabs. Suture kits. Scalpels. I select one of the larger ones, then straighten and also get a vial of pentobarbital.

I stuff the items into the pockets of my hoodie and leave the light on. Propping open the door so I have some illumination, I walk down the hall and stop outside the last door on the left, adjacent to Joe’s office.

All the rooms are secured the same way, with a double-sided lock. I work my key into the slot and pause, collecting my thoughts.

Can I do this?

It’s the first moment of hesitation I’ve allowed myself to have. I knew what would happen when we brought her here. I orchestrated it. Chose her. This was her fate from the beginning; I’m just shortening her sentence. It’s mercy, if anything.

She won’t feel anything.

Won’t know anything.

More importantly, she won’t be able to tell anyone anything.

Joe will be furious. All this effort, wasted. His forward progress, gone. All his bubbly energy will turn into rage. It will be messy and loud and long.

And then it will be over.

He will return to his other patients. I will return to work and the investigation.

I think of Natalie’s last voicemail, with instructions to meet the union rep tomorrow at 11:30 a.m. and a stern directive to not be late.

As if I would. Joe and I will leave here in the morning, despite Jessica’s dead body, and return home so I can work and he can teach his class.

He’ll come back later in the evening and deal with the aftermath, and by Tuesday, it’ll be as if it never happened.

The tight rope around my neck: gone.

Already I can breathe easier. I turn the key to Jessica’s room and push open the door.