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Patrice saidthat if I had a problem, I could come to her and that it would be confidential. Now I”ve got a problem, and it better be confidential, because if she tells anyone, I might end up in handcuffs.

I make an appointment with her for immediately after anatomy lab is over—I’m not going to smell great, but she’ll have to deal with it. Except just as I am leaving the lab, Dr. Conlon approaches me, gripping his cane in his left hand. Despite the fact that he walks with a cane, he is the youngest of all our professors by at least a decade, and yet there is a weariness in his eyes that makes him look older.

“Dr. Kaufman,” he says.

“Uh, hi.” I shift between my dirty sneakers, which I only wear for anatomy lab. The second I get out of here, I change into another pair. “What”s up?”

Like the rest of us, Dr. Conlon wears scrubs to the lab. And also like the rest of us, he always manages to glove up and get dirty over the course of the four to five hours. I”m sure he is just as eager to change into clean clothes as I am, but here we are. He looks me over, staring at me like he is sizing me up. “Did you spray down the body before you covered it?”

“Uh…” I tug at the collar of my scrubs, wanting desperately to change into something that doesn’t have formaldehyde and flecks of preserved intestines on it. “Yes?”

He doesn’t move away from the entrance to the door—he’s still blocking me. “It looked desiccated today. You need to do a better job.”

“Okay. I will.” When he doesn’t move aside, I add, “You mean now?”

“Yes, Dr. Kaufman. Now.”

This sharp tone is not what I have come to expect from Dr. Conlon. He’s generally really nice in the lab. Easygoing. Everyone in the class seems to like him, even students who aren”t doing as well in anatomy. Why is he suddenly being an asshole?

“I, uh… I have an appointment to get to,” I explain.

“An appointment?”

“With Patrice.”

He sucks in a breath when I tell him this. Despite the fact that we have all been encouraged to have regular visits with Patrice, he looks distinctly unhappy to hear that I am going to see her. Except why?

Is he worried about something I might say to her?

My gut is telling me Dr. Conlon is the one pushing students in the direction of Kovak’s clinic. After all, I heard about the clinic from the sign posted on the bulletin board outside the anatomy lab. And now, right after I confronted Kovak, he’s suddenly giving me a hard time. Maybe Kovak has shared my feelings about the clinic.

Maybe that’s why he doesn’t want me to talk to Patrice. He’s afraid of what I might reveal to her.

“Fine,” he finally says. “Go. Just don’t forget next time.”

He doesn’t have to tell me twice.

Even though I’m in a rush, there is no way I am going to Patrice’s office without changing first. I swap out my scrubs for the T-shirt and jeans I had been wearing before, and I stuff my tainted sneakers in my locker. By the time I make it to Patrice’s office, she is waiting by the door, looking pointedly at her watch.

“Sorry,” I say breathlessly. “It was… I got… held up.”

She nods and steps aside to let me enter the office. I plop down on her sofa, and same as last time, the cushions collapse under my weight. A spring pops under my butt, and I sink even a little deeper.

Patrice takes her place in a chair across from me and folds one of her long legs over the other. Like last time, she’s got that pad of paper on her lap, and for a moment, I wonder if I have made a mistake coming here. I don’t like the idea of her writing down everything that I’m saying.

“I’m so glad you contacted me, Abe,” she says. “So few students have reached out this year. But I am here to help you.”

“Right.” I run my fingers through my hair, clutching at the strands hard enough that it hurts. “I know.”

“Is there something in particular you wanted to talk to me about?”

“Uh…” I lean forward, my head now cupped between my giant hands. “I just…”

“What’s wrong? Tell me.”

Is this a bad idea? Once I tell Patrice, she’s going to go to the administration and tell them everything. She has to. “If I were to tell you something that was… not entirely legal, would you have to report it to the dean? Or, uh… the police?”

She arches an eyebrow. “It depends what it is. But yes, if you inform me of a crime that might put other people in danger, I am obligated to reportyou.”

Does this qualify as a crime that puts other people in danger? Several students have already died from drug overdoses. So I’m going to say yes.

“Abe? Do you have something to tell me?”

I don’t want to put my entire medical career at risk. I’m not like Mason, who has parents who can lawyer up and save him. But at the same time, I can’t do nothing. If there’s a chance that the clinic is at fault for the student overdoses, I have to say something.

Even if it puts my life at risk.

“I think…” I heave a deep breath. “I think I know where the drugs are coming from.”

Her eyes widen. “Oh?”

“Yes.” I try to shift on the sofa, and it groans ominously. “I work at a clinic that a lot of students go to. I… I think the clinic is distributing drugs to students.”

“You think?”

“I’m pretty sure.”

She nods, her pen poised on that notebook of hers. “Where is this clinic?”

I give her the address, all the while trying to push away a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. I have started the wheels rolling on something that could end up destroying my life. I don’t know if I made a terrible mistake, but on the other hand, what else could I do?

“I’ll look into it,” she says.

“What are you going to do?”

She crosses her legs, her eyes on mine. “Don’t worry. I’ll be discreet.”

I debate if I should tell her my suspicions about Dr. Conlon. The more I think about it, the more certain I feel that he is the one pushing students in the direction of that clinic. But I’ve seen Patrice talking to him many times, and I am pretty sure that they are friends. Maybe even more than friends. She might not appreciate the unfounded accusations, so I decide to keep my fool mouth shut.