Chapter 12

Jail in British Columbia was just as horrible as jail in Québec, Jocelyne thought, as she sat in her cell. The hearing had been quick. Just minutes for the Crown Prosecutor, Zachary Finnegan, to request she be returned to Montréal forthwith. Since she had broken bond and jumped bail back home, there was no chance for it here. No one trusted her not to run.

So she was going home. Except Montréal didn't feel like home anymore. Chantale would welcome her home, of course, and her father would be cordial, but there was still Morris to deal with. Apparently he hadn't signed the divorce papers she had left for him. Why the hell not? She would never have made love with Seth if she had known she was still married. She had believed herself finally free of that nightmare, but apparently not.

Had sex, she reminded herself. People in love made love. People who... Oh, to hell with it, she was in love with Seth. She groaned, letting her head drop to her hands. There hadn't been one moment of realization, though. It had been gradual and probably inevitable, so she needed to admit how she felt. For the first time in her life she was in love and there wasn't a damn thing she could do about it. She certainly couldn't do something as crazy as ask him to wait for her while she served her prison sentence. He had made his feelings very clear yesterday, although she still puzzled about why he had been willing to let her run.

It was funny, she hadn't seriously considered the offer. She had been tired of running and the moment for her to stop had finally arrived. So she'd stopped. She'd dressed, organized her purse, and sat at the kitchen table, waiting for Colton. Her biggest regret had been not being able to say goodbye to Mac and Charley. Well, biggest regret besides not being able to explain to Seth why she had done what she had done. The note had been the greatest point of debate.

Sorry.

Such a pithy word. She could have written a novel about all the things she wanted to apologize for, but instead had settled for simplicity.

Suddenly, there was a guard at the door. "You're a doctor, right?"

"Well, not technically. They took my licence-"

"But you're a doctor."

The woman looked slightly annoyed.

"Yes, I'm a doctor."

The door unlocked and the guard indicated Jocelyne follow her. "We've got a girl in the infirmary. She's about seven months pregnant and she's been complaining all day about pain. Our doctor checked her out a couple of hours ago and said she was fine. We've paged him, but she thinks something might be wrong."

"Did the doctor do an internal exam? Did he look for signs of contractions? Has there been fluid? Bleeding? What's her blood pressure?"

The guard spared her only a glance as she led them through another set of doors. "I can't answer any of those questions. I think it's all just a big fuss, but then she started screaming about pain. She's an OxyContin addict and I know she believes if she complains enough that she'll get a fix."

"Not likely," Jocelyne muttered. "Has she done her detox?"

"Yup. They don't send us pregnant ones unless they're clean." The guard held open the door and Jocelyn stepped through.

Her stomach dropped. The young woman had dark skin, so assessing by skin colour was tough, but the lines of pain etched on her face were real. She was curled in a ball, arms wrapped tightly around her belly.

"You need to call the paramedics."

The guard looked at her dubiously. "You haven't even looked at her. We only call if someone's dying. Otherwise we call the nurse and the doctor."

"Well where's the nurse?"

"Over at the men's prison across the street. Guy got cut in the kitchen and she's doing stitches. She should be back here within the hour."

Jocelyne was already looking for a blood pressure cup and attaching it to the girl's arm. She was just a girl. Maybe sixteen or seventeen.

It was an automatic machine, so it inflated on its own. Jocelyne felt for a pulse.

"What's your name sweetheart?"

"Her name's Angela."

Jocelyne shot the guard a look. She turned back to the girl.

"Angela, can you tell me where it hurts?"

Chocolate brown eyes were shimmering with tears. "My insides hurt and I feel weird."

Her blood pressure was dangerously high and her pulse was racing. She turned to the guard. "Get me a box of gloves." She wanted to wash, but she had a really bad feeling. "Angela, my name is Jocelyne. I'm a doctor and I'm going to help you."

"It hurts."

"I know it does," Jocelyne said, as she reached for a pair of gloves. She snagged them and turned to the guard. Pulling herself to her full height, she towered over the older woman. "I want an ambulance here in the next five minutes," she ground out, careful to keep her voice low. "The patient is at risk for stroking out and she might have eclampsia."

For the first time, Jocelyne had the woman's attention. "Fine," she said, "but if she's just faking it then you're in trouble."

"If she's faking it then I'll..." Jocelyne searched for the right words. Then she remembered one of Seth's favourite expressions. "Eat my shoe," she spat out.

She snapped on the gloves and put the guard out of her mind. Instead she focused on her patient.

"I need to roll you on your back, Angela. Then I need to take a look. I'm sorry that there's no privacy."

The young woman's eyes were glassy and unfocused so Jocelyne simply turned her over. She pulled off the prison-issue pants and underwear and cursed when she saw streaks of amniotic fluid and blood. She was reviewing manual procedures for checking dilation when she saw it.

"Damn, what the hell is that?"

Jocelyne didn't spare the guard a single thought. "You need to bring me every pillow you can find. We need to raise her hips as high as we can." Even as she was barking the orders, she was reaching for the prolapsed umbilical cord. How long had it been this way? The other doctor had been an hour ago and even an incompetent physician couldn't have missed this. But the baby might be being deprived of oxygen and nutrients at this every moment.

So she reached in, grabbed hold of the umbilical cord and gently eased it back into the vagina.

Angela screamed in pain and the guard nearly dropped the pillows.

"Put them under her hips," Jocelyne said, all the while trying to hold her hands steady. The pillows slid in and Jocelyne hoped that gravity would now do some of the work.

"I want you to call the hospital and tell them to prepare for an emergency C-section on a preterm baby. Tell them there's a prolapsed umbilical cord."

"Yeah, okay."

Then there was noise coming from the hallway and Jocelyne heard the sweetest words she could have ever wanted to hear.

"The paramedics are here."

She didn't spare them a glance as she began to list off the vitals and her diagnosis.

"Fancy meeting you here." Rory's words might be light hearted, but she was already pulling on gloves. "The guard says you're a prisoner here."

"I am, but I can't move my hand. Rory you've got to explain to them that I have to go with you. I don't want to risk a tear if we trade off."

"You won't get any argument from me, I've never even seen one of these. Have you?"

"Two and I did the operation for one of them because the other obstetrician was doing another emergency surgery." As they were speaking, Rory was taking vitals. Jocelyne looked over to see the same young man who had been with Rory at Frank's accident positioning hooking up an IV.

"Push diazepam," Jocelyne barked.

The guy, what was his name? Sawyer, she remembered. Sawyer simply nodded and did the injection.

"Okay, we're going to pull the gurney right up flush and we'll move her," Rory said.

Jocelyne glanced around. "How many people do we have? I mean, we can't jostle her."

"I'll take her shoulders, let Sawyer take her pelvis."

It would have to do, she thought, tamping down the panic. "On my count. One, two...." And they moved on what would have been three. It was quick, efficient, and Jocelyne didn't jostle very much.

Still, Angela screamed.

"Can't you give her something?"

Jocelyne didn't even spare the guard a look as she climbed onto the gurney, her hand still holding the delicate cord.

"Where the hell is she going?"

Now Jocelyne turned her shoulders, careful not to move her hands. "She is going to the hospital. Unless you want to put your hand in this woman's vagina to save the baby."

The guard's eyes were wide and then they narrowed. "Can't one of them do it?"

All three medical professionals answered her at the same time.

"No."

The guard looked like she wanted to argue, but Rory and Sawyer were already wheeling the gurney to the door.

"You'll you have to take a guard with you," she spat.

"Send the army, navy, and coast guard for all I care, but get the hell out of my way." Jocelyne was known for her placid and implacable nature, but if she wasn't holding a precious life in her hands, she would gladly be throttling the stupid woman.

Soon, however, they were moving and Jocelyne's entire focus was on her patient.

The rest was orchestrated chaos. The compromise was that the ambulance would have a three-car police escort to the nearest centre equipped to deal with the emergency. Sawyer drove with full lights and sirens while Rory kept relaying information to the hospital.

And Jocelyne said a prayer to the God she didn't believe in.

It was more than twenty minutes before Jocelyne got her hand back and by then it was completely numb. The look on the ER doctor's face when he had seen where Jocelyne's hand had been would have been priceless if she hadn't been so full of worry. Jocelyne looked down at her outfit and cringed. She was covered in fluid, her shoes were soaked and she smelled awful. She pitied the cop who would have the pleasure of driving her back to the jail.

There had been, at her last count, three police officers. Having seen the situation, not one of them had gotten in the way. She stepped back as Angela was wheeled away. She had wanted to touch the young woman, but hadn't had time to strip off her glove. The doctor had paused for just a second.

"You saved that baby."

Then the gurney, patient, doctor and staff were wheeling her off for an emergency C-section.

Jocelyne had seen the baby's vitals on the monitor. The heartbeat had been slow, but it had been there. The amount of brain damage was the unknown. Still, if Jocelyne hadn't been there, and that stupid guard had been left to do something, than the baby would have probably died and Angela would be much worse off.

"So you saved the day. Again."

Jocelyne didn't have to turn to know who was behind her. Still, she wasn't a coward. So she pivoted. "Yes, I tried to help. They may have taken away my licence, but they didn't excise my knowledge or my skills. I don't even know if what I did was enough. I want to be in that OR assisting with the surgery. I want to see the chart and I want to know the outcome." She stripped off her gloves and threw them down in frustration. "Instead I get to let you handcuff me again and drag me back to jail." It had hurt, that he had used the cuffs. She had been willing to go voluntarily, but the son of a bitch had insisted on procedure, had cuffed her and then all but stuffed her into the back of his police sedan.

That sardonic black eyebrow simply raised. He crooked his finger, indicating he wanted her to follow him. They walked for some time, in a restricted area of the hospital. No one questioned them, however. She wondered what they looked like. The cop who was six and a half feet tall and the bedraggled woman wearing prison clothes.

When he pushed open a door that said MEN, however, she balked.

Instead of even giving her a chance to speak, he grabbed her elbow and hauled her inside. There were two men in the changing area, one naked and one mostly so. Neither batted an eyelash.

Colton hauled her over to a shower stall. "Get in there and strip. Hand me the clothes and then have a shower. I'll give you a towel and some scrubs." He grinned. "Then I'll handcuff you."

She wanted to be defiant, but the thought of a shower was like a siren's song which she was powerless to ignore. So she stepped into the shower and stripped. She'd done it thousands of times over the years - she'd taken more showers at the hospital than she had in her own home. Of course she always tried to be away from home as often as possible. She hadn't been required to put in the eighty-hour weeks, she had chosen to.

She stuck the clothes out and Colton took them. He was looking at her with a leer or a sneer - she couldn't tell which - and she just wanted to scream. He got off on this kind of stuff, she knew. He only saw her as a criminal. The rest was just window dressing.

Still, the hot spray against tense muscles did help. The feeling had come back to her hand and it ached. Her mind was whirling as she wondered how the surgery was going. The baby was going to be so premature and Angela's body had been so tiny.

"Could you hurry it up?"

In response, she grunted. Just one more minute, she told herself, then she would go back to being a prisoner.

She shut off the water and reached for the towel. Brisk and efficient.

"Here are the scrubs." He passed them to her and she put them on. She was still damp and the cotton stuck in places, but she was a million times better than she had been. She stepped from the shower and Colton handed her another towel. "For your hair," he said grudgingly.

Jocelyne didn't smile, but she was touched by the gesture.

Maybe he wasn't the ogre she had made him into in her mind. He was protective of Seth and he had every right to be. Wouldn't she have done the same thing if someone questionable had come into her sister's life? When she was finished with the towel, he handed her a comb.

"I borrowed it off one of the guys."

This time, she did smile. "Someone might think you care."

He grunted.

It took her a good two minutes to comb out her hair and do a quick twist knot. Colton was looking at her. "I always wonder how you do that."

Was she supposed to answer?

Then he thrust the shoes back in her hands. "You can keep the scrubs, but no one had shoes in your size."

"That's okay," she assured him, as she pushed her feet back into the canvass sneakers. They weren't too squishy and as long as she didn't get too close, the smell wasn't overwhelming. It was a scent she had smelled before, but never would again and that caused her to take a moment. Just a moment. Then she took a deep breath. "I'm ready."

When they stepped out of the change room, she was surprised to see that there was no armed guard.

"Give me your hands."

She obeyed, prepared for him to cuff her wrists behind her back again. He surprised her when he slid them on so she could keep her hands in front of her. Then he lay a towel across her arms. To the casual observer, she just looked like an orderly carrying a towel.

With an armed police officer as escort, but it was the thought that counted. They walked through the back corridors, but Jocelyne was surprised when they stopped at a nurse's station.

Colton showed his badge. "Can you give me the status on Angela Samson?"

The nurse paused for a moment, then went to his computer. Then he held up his hand and made a call. "Mona? It's Yan. Patient Samson. Is she out of surgery yet?" He nodded. "Okay, and the baby?" His eyes were still intent on the screen. "Right, thanks." He hung up the phone.

"Patient is in the recovery room, she'll be watched and if everything's okay then she'll be moved to her own room shortly. The baby was a boy, three pounds, eight ounces. Initial APGAR of two, second one was a six." He looked glanced between Colton and Jocelyne. "Anything else you need to know?"

Only about a million little things, Jocelyne thought, but she simply shook her head. She felt Colton's hand on her shoulder so she turned and let him lead her from the hospital.

Yesterday's rain was a distant memory and the sun was so bright she could barely see. She would have brought her hands up to shield her eyes except they were handcuffed and she was still carrying the towel. She was surprised when Colton used his remote to unlock a little sports car.

"This isn't your police car," she commented.

"Nope. Today's my day off. I was running a couple of errands when a call comes over the radio for an escort to the hospital because two female prisoners are being transported and one of them is a doctor." He snickered. "Did not take a genius to guess you were involved." He opened the front passenger door and helped her inside. She watched as he rounded the hood and slipped in.

"The brass is okay with this?"

"Sergeant Wilder is okay with this, thanks for asking. He still feels grateful for what you did for Frank." He started the engine. "We're all grateful for what you did for Frank."

"I bet that hurt."

"You'll never know," he mumbled, as he backed his car from the parking space. They were on the road for a couple of minutes before he spoke. "You eat burgers?"

"Do I what?"

"Hamburgers? Do you eat-"

"Yes, I eat hamburgers," she said a little testily.

"Great, because I'm starving." With that, he pulled into a drive-thru and ordered two burgers, two fries, and two vanilla milkshakes. There was no way he could have known, of course, that vanilla milkshakes were her absolute favourite.

Once he had the order he drove to a spot of shade at the back of the parking lot, rolled down her automatic window, and cut the engine. It was late August and there was a beautiful breeze which flowed through the car.

"Let's see the hands."

Jocelyne dumped the towel on the floor and held up her hands. Colton used the key to undo and remove the cuffs.

"You're taking a hell of a chance."

He snickered. "I could take you down blind with one arm tied behind my back."

She wanted to argue, but she knew he was right. She put a fry in her mouth and then took a sip of the shake.

"Plus, if you had wanted to run, you would have taken Seth's truck and gone."

"You knew about that?"

"He asked me to give him time." His grin was quick. "Of course I was parked at the end of the road, but he doesn't need to know that. As soon as I knew how you were, Dr. Morin, your goose was cooked. Metaphorically speaking."

"Please don't call me that."

He angled himself so he could look at her. "Why not? Your name is Doctor Jocelyne Claudette Marie Baldwin Morin."

She sighed. "I own all of it except the last. I never wanted to take his name."

"He forced you to?"

Jocelyne looked out the side window, trying to catch a breath of wind against her face. "He forced me to do a lot of things I didn't want to do. I thought...I thought I didn't have a choice. I thought I had made my bed and I would have to lie in it."

Colton was silent for so long that Jocelyne turned to face him. He eyed her.

"Did Seth tell you what I do?"

She shrugged. "You're a cop. You work with...what's her name?"

"Corporal Duhamel."

"Right. He also said it's a good thing you two get along so well because no one else would want to work with you."

He didn't laugh.

"I work sex crimes."

His eyes were hidden behind his sunglasses, but Jocelyne felt his stare right through to her soul. She tore her gaze away. "I don't know why you're telling me this."

"Does Seth know?"

She closed her eyes, fighting the stinging. She shook her head.

"When did it start?"

She hadn't finished her burger, but she still felt nauseous. Like she had eaten too much. Finally she took a deep breath. "Our wedding night." She cringed from the flashback. "We got married and then we went back to his house. We weren't even going to have a honeymoon, but we were going to have a weekend.

"I followed him to the bedroom, excepting champagne and flowers. Instead he tore my gown from me, forced me on the bed and..."

"He raped you."

"No, we were married."

"Were you a virgin?"

Humiliation washed over her and she swiped her the back over her hand against her eyes. Then, like magic, he was handing her a tissue. She mopped up the tears as best as she could then closed her eyes and pressed a fist to her forehead.

"He just kept ramming into me and I just wanted it to be over. I had known it might hurt. I mean, I'm a doctor and I understand anatomy, but I've never felt pain like that. It was like I was being ripped in two."

There was a long silence.

Finally, she looked up at him. He'd removed his sunglasses and, for the first time, Jocelyne got a really good look at those eyes. Cop's eyes, she'd called them. But, in this moment, they were so much more than that. There was compassion, there was caring.

"I could explain to you that it's going to hurt if a woman isn't prepared. I can tell you the first time is often painful. I can tell you a lot of things." He paused. "But I'll tell you what you would tell any woman who walked into your ER - it's rape if you don't consent. If someone throws you on a bed, holds you down and rams into you without your consent then it's rape." His too-seeing eyes continued to bore into her. "How often?"

She swallowed convulsively. "Not very often. He had mistresses, you know? It's funny that the older he got, the younger they got. This last one had barely hung up her candy striper uniform before he got her into bed. It's disgusting."

"He's fifty-three?"

It was funny, she thought, he asked it like it was a question yet they both knew the answer. "Yes, he's fifty-three. He's almost twenty years older than me and I should have known better, but he was my mentor. He pushed me to be the best and I am." Her voice hitched. "At least I was. He gave me the tough cases - the ones where the outcome was considered grim. He showed me how to save lives."

"And you married him in gratitude?"

She laughed. A sick, grating laugh. "My father arranged it. He said I needed someone to protect me. He had kept me sheltered my entire life. The only time I saw how the other half lived was in the hospital. By the time they reached me, the unwashed masses needed what I could give them. I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth and I was raised with a silver blindfold across my eyes. Morris promised my family he would take care of me. They believed him and it never occurred to me to think otherwise.

"I also came with a substantial dowry."

Colton made a strangled sound. "Come again?"

"My father is one of the wealthiest men in the country. He paid Morris to take me off of his hands."

He considered. "I would say that it was barbaric, but we both know it's still a common practice in many cultures. What I can't figure out is why you stayed."

Now it was her turn to consider. "Because the...sex-"

"Rape," Colton corrected.

"Rape," she conceded. "It didn't happen all the time. We slept in separate rooms and I could go weeks without seeing him. I could convince myself it was all just a bad dream."

"Then he would come back."

She shuddered. "I thought it would stop hurting, but it never did. Eventually, I learned to live with it."

"You told Seth you thought you were divorced."

"After...you know...what happened, I thought he would want out."

"You mean after you killed Mikaela Leblanc."

That familiar ache washed over her. She wanted to argue, but there was no point because he saw things in black and white even though there were a million shades of grey.

"I don't expect you to understand."

"I don't know. I mean, I think I'm a pretty liberal-thinking guy." His tone changed. "Try me." The sarcasm was gone and now it was persuasive.

Jocelyne took a sip of her drink, wishing it was something a little stronger. "How much do you know?"

"Why don't you just start from the beginning?"

She laughed mirthlessly. "You have no idea what you're asking."

He shrugged carelessly. "You might be surprised."

So she took a deep breath and began at the beginning. "Mikaela Leblanc presented in my ER as a twenty-five year old mother of three with severe abdominal distress seven days post-surgical. She had been released from another hospital the day before. Of course I checked the records. I found my husband had operated on Mrs. Leblanc."

"I don't know, that sounds pretty simple."

"She had stage 4 pancreatic cancer and should never have been considered a candidate for surgery. It's tough, but sometimes not cutting is better than cutting. She still had more weeks, maybe even months." A ghost of a smile passed her lips. "But Morris was perfecting a new surgical technique for the pancreas and he was still short a patient of two for his study."

"But surely he wouldn't want to risk a dangerous surgery."

"His trial was being judged on outcome, yes, but he could exclude her by saying she was already terminal."

"Then why operate at all?"

Jocelyne cringed. "Practice. He used her as practice."

There was another long silence.

"Okay, that's not just barbaric, it's malpractice."

She shook her head. "Nope. The family consented. They were told they might get more time. Might being the operative word." She sighed. "I couldn't tell from the ultrasound, but it looked like the surgery might have been botched. The only way to know was to go in again."

"I take it the patient refused."

"Give the Corporal a gold star." Then she cringed at her sarcasm. "I offered to treat her with palliative care. I gave her painkillers and I sent her home with instructions to call me if she deteriorated. It was about twenty-four hours later when I got the call. I don't do house calls, but they refused to come to the hospital.

"I could hear her screams in the hallway." She remembered, transported back to that dingy four-storey walk-up. "I've heard people in pain, but this was...otherworldly. Of course I wanted to call for the paramedics, but she insisted she wanted to die at home. I gave her a shot of the strongest narcotic I had and it didn't make an ounce of difference." She took another sip. "I'm used to being in the hospital with equipment, nurses, and priests. I had none of those things at my disposal and she begged me, begged me to help her. I knew what she meant, of course, but I never even considered it. So I sat by her bedside and held her hand.

"Three hours later I administered a cocktail of tranquilizers and narcotics which I knew would kill her." She popped a cold French fry into her mouth. "Maybe there's something else I could have done. Maybe I should have pushed harder to go back to the hospital. Maybe I should have taken the time to order a pain pump. Maybe I should have walked out the door. In the end, though, it comes down to what I did do."

He considered. "Do you think you were wrong?"

"You mean if I were put in the exact same circumstances would I do the exact same thing?" She let out a huff. "I would have the cops bring my husband - soon to be ex - down there and let him clean-up his own mess."

"How did they catch you? The family never spoke up."

Her laugh nearly broke her spirit. "Morris insisted on a post-mortem. Went to court to get a post-mortem. The family were too exhausted to fight."

"To what end?"

"You know, I knew the man was arrogant, but this was beyond the pale." She looked back out the windshield. "In the end they decided it was manslaughter. Her pancreas was a mess, but there was no actual proof of negligence or malice aforethought on Morris' part. It was deemed an unfortunate surgical outcome, but that she probably would not have died had it not been for my intervention."

"They didn't hear her scream."

In that moment, Jocelyne felt she had found someone who understood. Someone who she would never have believed would get it, yet he did.

"My family posted bond, but the condition was that I stay in my house. At first I thought they meant my father's house, but then I realized they wanted me to stay at Morris' house. You know, I never called it my home. It was just the place where I went when I had to take a mandatory break from the hospital. That monstrosity was my worst nightmare and the judge said I had to stay there."

"You ran."

She considered. "I stayed for ten days and there were ten...incidents. He was punishing me for what he considered my interference in his hallowed work." She swallowed the bile. "I couldn't live like that, but I also couldn't go back to the courts and tell them I couldn't abide by their conditions because I was living with a...with a..."

"Monster," Colton offered helpfully.

Jocelyne didn't say anything. She couldn't. Emotions were clogging her throat. She had finally told someone her deepest and darkest secret. What had haunted her for seven years was now out in the open. She sniffed.

"I don't care what happens to me. I just don't want the Leblanc family to go through a trial. They deserve to be left in peace to grieve. They're immigrants from Haiti with no close family. He's now raising three kids under the age of six. He doesn't need me and my problems."

"How much time are you looking at?"

She lifted the bun off her half-eaten burger, plucked out the pickle and put it in her mouth. It stuck on the way down and she started to cough. "I can do the time, Corporal. Five years is nothing. I'll happily take that. What I can't do is let them take away my licence. I'm nothing if I'm not a doctor. I'll have no reason for existing and have no reason to live."

"That's bullshit."

His explosion was so violent and unexpected that the last few fries went flying from her hands.

"See, I can handle a lot of things, but what I can't tolerate is self-indulgence."

She shot him a look of venom.

"There are lots of things you can do. You could become a nun. You can go teach in Africa. You could go into research. You could start a foundation with Daddy's money and find a way to help people in need." He paused. "Or you could work at a think tank trying to legalize doctor-assisted suicide."

She should have seen that one coming, and yet still it had caught her off-guard.

"You don't understand," she said weakly.

"No, you're right, I don't. But then I also think you should fight the charges."

That brought her up short. It took her one very long minute.

"Who?"

"My father. He had Huntington's and near the end he begged me." Now he was the one to look away. "I didn't do it and he died a horrible death in a hospital. It broke my mother. She just never recovered and when she developed pneumonia that next winter, she just didn't fight. I was twenty and my sister was eighteen." He paused. "And before you ask, we've both tested negative for the gene."

She had wanted to ask, but hadn't known how to do it because it was none of her damn business.

Except that the compassionate and caring doctor was still waging war inside of her. As much as she had seen surgery as a means to an end, she had still loved her patients. Shared in their triumphs and mourned their loss. Morris had been the exact opposite. He cut for the glory and accolades, not caring at all for his patients. For him, reputation was everything. Mikaela Leblanc had threatened to tarnish his image so he had made sure she was nothing more than a footnote.

To Jocelyne, though, the woman had been real, her suffering tangible, and her pain acute. Yes, the woman was going to die, but it had been hastened by arrogance and hubris.

"I think they might just be wondering where you are," Colton said casually, putting his sunglasses back on. Jocelyne said nothing as he started the engine and then pulled away. Not another word was spoken as they drove back to the prison.

Jocelyne wasn't afraid. She had never been afraid since this whole ordeal had begun. Only two things scared her in life. One was Doctor Morris Morin and the other was Seth Jacobs. For completely different reasons, of course, but they both scared her. So when Colton parked the car and killed the engine, she turned to him.

"You have to promise me you won't tell Seth any of this."

He again angled himself and removed his sunglasses. Chocolate brown eyes were searching her blue ones. "Why not?"

Her breath caught in her throat. "I didn't tell you those things so you could go back and tell him. What I said to you, I said it in confidence."

Colton shook his head. "See, I'm not a therapist, I'm not a lawyer and I am most definitely not a priest. I'm not your confessor, Jocelyne, and you should have known that. What I tell Seth - or don't tell him - is at my discretion."

"He's not going to believe you," she said, injecting more bravado than she actually felt.

Colton appeared to consider. "I'll keep it on the QT if you agree to go back and fight."

"That's blackmail," she sputtered.

His face broke into a broad and cocky grin. Jocelyne was so shocked she almost spilled the remnants of her milkshake on the floor of the car. Colton Pritchard had smiled. Then he blew her mind and winked.

"It might be blackmail, darlin', but you'll never prove it in court. It's just your word against mine."

Jocelyne felt like she was having an out-of-body experience.

Then the grin faded. "Wait in the car. I'm going to come around, open the door and then I've got to put the cuffs back on." He paused. "I am sorry about that part."

She believed him.

"Will you call the hospital and find out how Angela and the baby are doing?"

He gave her a curt nod and she believed him in that as well.

�������m=��