Chapter 6 - The Shadows of the Past
The crisp morning air of November bit gently at my face as I stepped out of the hospital parking garage, clutching my travel mug tightly. Six months had passed since the harrowing night in Trauma Room 2, but the memory of Daniel Harris’s smug face dissolving into absolute panic still lingered in the back of my mind. Cases like Emily's don't just fade away; they etch themselves into your psyche like permanent ink. Inside the emergency department, the usual symphony of monitors beeping, paging systems echoing overhead, and nurses calling out triage notes welcomed me back to reality. Marcus was already at the main desk, sorting through the morning charts with a concentrated frown that vanished the moment he saw me approach.
"Morning, Dr. Jenkins," Marcus said, sliding a stack of new files toward me. "We’ve got a full house today, and rumor has it hospital administration is touring the trauma wing this afternoon with some high-profile state investigators."
I raised an eyebrow, scanning the top triage sheet. "Investigators? For what department? We aren't due for a routine state accreditation audit for another two years."
"Not accreditation," Marcus lowered his voice, leaning across the counter. "It’s about the Harris case. Apparently, Daniel’s defense attorneys are trying a desperate new angle. They’re claiming the hospital staff acted with gross negligence during the cast removal, arguing that the severe tissue damage wasn't caused by prolonged neglect, but by improper surgical tools used during the emergency intervention."
A cold spike of adrenaline hit my chest. It was a pathetic, transparent legal maneuver, but in the hands of high-priced corporate defense lawyers, even the most absurd claims could sometimes gain traction if left unchallenged. Daniel was sitting in a maximum-security state penitentiary serving a twenty-five-year sentence, yet his poisonous influence was still trying to reach out from behind bars to cast doubt on the medical team that saved his wife's life.
"Gross negligence?" I repeated, my voice dropping an octave as anger surged through me. "We pulled literal colonies of maggots and necrotic bone out of that arm because he locked her away and let her rot for weeks. The medical records, the forensic lab cultures, and my surgical notes document every single millimeter of tissue decay."
"I know, and you documented it impeccably," Marcus reassured me, tapping a folder. "But Detective Vance called me late last night. He said Daniel’s legal team has subpoenaed all the surgical logs, photographic evidence, and even my personal testimony. They are trying to subpoena Emily’s medical history to paint her as an uncooperative patient who refused care."
"They won't succeed," I said firmly, tossing my pen onto the desk. "Emily is stronger than they think. She’s not the terrified, silenced woman she was six months ago."
Just as we finished reviewing the charts, the glass doors of the emergency room slid open, and a tall man in a tailored charcoal suit walked in. He didn't look like a typical patient or a panicked family member; he carried himself with an air of cold authority, scanning the waiting room with sharp, calculating eyes. He wore a heavy gold signet ring on his right hand and held a sleek leather briefcase. He walked straight past the security checkpoint, ignoring the automated check-in kiosk, and headed directly toward the nurses' station where Marcus and I were standing.
"Dr. Arthur Jenkins?" the man asked, his voice flat, devoid of any warmth or professional courtesy.
May you like
"I am," I replied, stepping forward to block his path to the restricted treatment corridors. "Visitors aren't permitted past this point without checking in at the front desk. Can I help you with something?"
The man reached inside his tailored jacket pocket and pulled out a thick, heavy envelope, slapping it down onto the stainless-steel counter with a sharp slap that made several nearby nurses jump. "You’ve been formally served. You and Mercy General Hospital are now officially named in a civil countersuit filed on behalf of Daniel Harris. You have twenty days to respond."
