Chapter 7

Saturday

All five of us are in the conference room, called in because the patient has had an episode of aphasia—in other words, for a while he suddenly lost the ability speak—and his tremors and uncontrolled movements are worsening. Clearly something else is wrong with him.

Chase adds aphasia, then taps the end of the dry erase marker against the whiteboard. Nausea, vomiting, and migraine have been crossed off. Apparently, those were from the meningioma, at least. This guy must have won the lottery.

"We should test for lupus." Park shifts her glasses.

"No family history of auto-immune," Adams says, crossing her legs.

"Everybody lies." Park's already picked up the motto I see.

"Progression is too rapid," I say.

"Well, we haven't got a lot of options right now, so go ahead and run ANA for lupus." Chase turns towards us at the table. "But... start him on IVIG and check his lungs for small-cell carcinoma."

Adams, Park, and Taub trade confused glances. "So we remove a benign tumour from his brain and you still think it's cancer?" Adams asks.

"He's right." I stand. "Paraneoplastic would fit."

"He's young and not a smoker. I highly doubt—"

"—I'll start him on the IVIG." I go for the door.

"Wow, you and Thirteen have certainly been in agreement about this case," Adams remarks. "You two must be close."

I pause, fingers at the door handle, not very amused. Why does this matter?

"They're not dating or anything," Park says. "Thirteen's gay."

"As if that's the only reason we're not involved." Chase snickers.

My eyes roll and I turn back. "Actually, I'm bi, but yes, I've got a girlfriend, and that's really none of anyone's business. Now can we treat the patient before it's too late?"

"Yeah, let's do that." Chase sets down the marker.

I hurry down the hall ahead of the others. The elevator doors come open to reveal a familiar face; round, full brows, blue eyes. Detective Tritter.

"Dr Hadley. Sorry if I'm interrupting anything..." Somehow his apology sounds completely insincere. "...but I'd like to have a word with you again."

The others have caught up. They don't say anything, just exchange looks. They know him. They've all been questioned already.

I have no choice. I follow him as they step inside the elevator to go off and start the treatment and run the tests. He leads me around the corner from the conference room and Chase's office to the office that has apparently been in disuse for about five months. His name is still on the door. Dr James Wilson.

Everything is the way he left it. I can't believe Foreman hasn't cleaned it all out and made room for someone else in here. He's not one for wasting space.

"Have a seat, Dr Hadley." The detective heads over to Wilson's desk and sits down. My jaw clenches.

"I'd rather stand." I stay hovering by the door.

"Does being in here make you uncomfortable?"

What an ass. "Of course it does," I answer honestly.

"Is that because you feel guilt over his death?"

I don't show the confusion on my face. "No, it's depressing that he's gone, but why would I feel guilt?"

"You, um, you have a record." He props his feet up on the desk. I glare at him. He smirks. "You were incarcerated for six months. Seems it was the result of an incident involving narcotics and a man dying."

I bite my lip. Is this why he's singling me out? Because I've got a criminal record?

"Yeah, I over-prescribed and I've served my time. What has this got to do with anything?"

"Hmm." He laughs. "I don't think this was a simple case of over-prescribing. I think it was more personal. The man who died was your brother."

My heart catches. My mouth goes dry.

"You sure you don't want to sit down?"

Shit. My legs are shaking. I don't say anything. I lean back against the door frame and try to hold still.

"Like you, he had Huntington's Chorea. He was in the advanced stages. Must have been a nightmare staring your own future in the face like that, and for it to be your brother's face. That had to be hell."

"This has nothing to do with your investigation," I say between clenched teeth.

"Oh, no you're wrong. It has everything to do with my investigation." He draws a cigarette from his suit jacket, then a lighter. "Now, they couldn't prove it, but we both know you were the one who pushed that plunger."

He lights the cigarette. I want nothing more than to fly at him and stomp it out.

"And, you know what? I think you were there with Dr Wilson at the end."

"What? That's ridiculous," I scoff. "You said the person with him was a man."

"Well, actually no one got a good look and he, or she, as the case may be, was wearing a helmet."

"I've been in the city for the past five months!" That came out before I could think. Actually, that's not strictly true. I've accompanied Aya to a few out-of-state art exhibitions.

"I've checked around, Dr Hadley." He puffs on his cigarette. "There's no record of that. You just came back to work on Monday." Smoke pours out as he exhales. "It fits. You come back from your trip overseas to disappear with Dr Wilson, then reappear conveniently just after he turns up dead."

I can't believe it. I was afraid for House. I thought they suspected he was alive, but the whole time this detective has been trying to pin Wilson's death on me.

"There's proof. I've got mail; boxes from items ordered online. My neighbours have seen me. My partner will confirm I've never been away."

"That can all be neatly arranged to resemble proof. Doesn't mean it will hold up." He takes another drag. "We know the bike was outside your house."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"No use lying." He holds up his phone and flicks to a photo that shows House's bike parked in front of my place.

How the hell is that possible?

"I had a couple of guys outside, keeping an eye on you as soon as I checked out all of Dr Wilson's associates. You seemed the most likely to be involved."

My hands curl into fists. "You're not intimidating me because I haven't done anything wrong."

"Oh, of course not, depending on your moral outlook, but I think you've done something very illegal. Multiple things, actually."

"Put that out. This is a hospital," I snap. "And get the hell out of my friend's office."

He complies with a smirk. "I'll be visiting you again soon." His shoulder brushes me on the way by. It makes me grimace.


"Negative ANA for lupus," Park says, all of us standing in Chase's office, facing him at his desk.

"Lungs are clean." Taub holds up an X-ray. "And no sign of improvement on the IVIG."

"It could still be paraneoplastic." Chase fiddles with the over-sized tennis ball. "The IVIG might just need more time to work."

"Why are you so stuck on that theory?" Park asks.

"Because I've seen a case like this before." He bounces the ball to the wall, then catches it with everyone watching. "Get a full body MRI."

"All right. Just don't be too surprised if we don't find any cancer," Adams says. They head into the hall. I go into the conference room instead and sit at the table.

Chase sets down the ball and joins me. "Is something the matter? You've been quiet."

I let out a deep breath. "That detective cornered me earlier. He thinks I was the one with Wilson."

"Why?"

"He knows about my brother." I grab a pen from in front of me and clench it in my hand. "Wilson was an OD." My eyes flick to Chase's. "You know that, right?"

"Yeah."

"Given my record and the fact he had cops watching my place and got photos of the bike parked out front, I'm the prime suspect."

"Oh God..." He stares in shock for a moment. "But wait, how is that possible? Wilson was riding all around the country for five months. You've been here."

"I know. He says there's no solid proof." I roll the pen now, back and forth across the glass. "He's right. I haven't done anything since coming back from overseas that proves I've been here the whole time. And in fact, it's worse than that. I've gone with Aya to some art exhibitions and I know he'll find some way to twist that against me"

"Then I'm sure we can find a way to prove you were only away for the exhibitions. You've got me and Aya. We can both swear it."

"It won't work. You're my friend and now my boss. She's my girlfriend." I stand up, brush his hand with mine. "But thanks. That means a lot."

"We're gonna figure this out, okay?" His lips press tightly together, painting his face stern, unyielding, despite the trembling emotion in his eyes.


A couple of hours have passed. Chase and I are sitting at the table, going through photos and papers I've brought from home, trying to find something concrete.

"What about your bank?"

"I haven't been there since coming back."

"What about pictures on your phone? Your location could be marked with GPS."

I laugh bitterly. "I always turn off location tracking. It's creepy."

"Yeah, I get it." He sighs.

"Besides... we honestly haven't been snapping many pictures the past five months. We did all that in Mykonos. Since then we've mostly been at home. What is there to photograph?"

The others return to the conference room.

"What are you two doing?" Park asks.

"It's nothing." I hurriedly gather everything up into a stack and flip it over.

"So, what have you found?" Chase looks to them.

"Nothing." Taub sighs.

"What, there was no sign of a mass anywhere in his body?"

"Um, no, we didn't do the MRI," Adams clarifies.

"What do you mean? What happened?"

"Couldn't do it." Taub crosses his arms. "Patient refused."

Chase's mouth falls open a bit. "You mean he refused a harmless, non-invasive procedure?"

"Yeah."

"Did you explain to him that his brain is rapidly deteriorating and it's very likely he'll be dead soon if we don't find the reason?"

"Yeah." The others exchange a glance.

"But the problem is..." Adams says, "he's showing improvement now."

Chase can't seem to hide a grin. He's cracked the puzzle. Then his face returns to seriousness. "But you have told him this isn't a fix? That if he's got cancer, it'll metastasise. We need to find it before it's too late, if it's not already."

"Told him that too." Taub rubs his still-bandaged nose. "Didn't seem to care."

"His neurological function is compromised. We should override him. Go to Foreman."

"Already tried that," Park says. "He wouldn't approve it."

"Why not?"

"Well, seeing as how someone pissed off the fiancée..." Taub looks my way. "...and she's wanting to sue the hospital already, Foreman says we can't push for this."

Chase scoffs. "She's gonna be a lot more pissed off when he's dead."

"I know," Adams says, "but that's her decision and there's nothing we can do."

"What about family?" Park asks. "Maybe his parents will help."

"Yeah, good idea," Chase says. "Try to get in touch with them."