“Heavily.”
“Alone in my garage.”
“Dr. Cole operated on Maddie Harmon because I wasn’t there.”
“He’d been awake thirty-one hours covering my shifts.”
“Everything that happened to that little girl starts with me.”
“I want it on the record.”
“I’ve already called the state medical board.”
“They’re expecting my written statement Monday.”
The room went quiet.
Nate made a sound beside me.
Like something tearing.
Voss didn’t move.
He folded his hands on the desk.
He looked at Owen for a long time.
“Sit down, Dr. Pratt,” he said.
“I’ll stand.”
“Then stand,” Voss said.
“But you should know something first.”
He opened a drawer.
He took out a thin gray folder.
He set it on the desk.
“This is the paging log from the night of November twenty-sixth.”
He tapped it once with one finger.
“I’ve had it since the morning of the twenty-seventh.”
Nobody breathed.
“I’ve known you didn’t answer since the day after,” Voss said.
