Remember The Lies (A Clara Pike FBI Thriller—Book Three) by Molly Black

Author:Molly Black [Black, Molly]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: UNKNOWN
Published: 2024-09-15T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter FIFTEEN

Fiona Abrams keyed in the last of the patient discharge summaries, her fingers racing across the keyboard with practiced ease. It was just past nine in the evening, and the sterile hum of the hospital corridors outside her office hummed a lullaby of efficiency and routine. Fiona's workspace was a testament to her meticulous nature: files aligned at right angles on her desk, digital records sorted into precise categories, and not a single paper clip out of place. The glow from her computer screen cast sharp shadows on her features, accentuating the sleek blond bob that framed her determined face.

Her icy demeanor was a necessary armor in a world where chaos loomed at the edge of every decision. As an administrator, Fiona's domain was order within the storm of life-and-death scenarios playing out just beyond her door. She scheduled surgeries with the precision of a conductor, managed staff rosters like chess pieces, and handled the ever-undulating tides of hospital admissions as if she were born to do it. Indeed, Fiona Abrams was the unseen heartbeat of the institution, vital yet veiled behind the scenes.

The shrill ring of her office phone sliced through the silence like a scalpel, startling Fiona from her focused reverie. With a swift, almost reflexive gesture, she picked up the receiver, nestling it between her shoulder and ear,

"Fiona Abrams speaking," she announced, her tone as crisp as the lines on her pressed blouse.

"Ms. Abrams," a voice crackled through the line, distorted slightly by what sounded like a deliberate attempt at electronic masking. There was a tremor of urgency in the caller's tone that set Fiona's nerves on edge. "You don't know me, but you need to listen very carefully."

"Who is this?" Fiona demanded, her pulse quickening. Instinctively, she glanced at the closed-circuit television screen mounted in the corner of her office, its lens surveying the empty hallway outside.

"Names aren't important." The caller's insistence brooked no argument. "There are records. Old ones. From before your time. You need to get them tonight. They're in an old storage facility on the outskirts of town. If you don't, they'll be destroyed by morning."

Fiona's brows knitted in confusion, her mind racing. Records? Destroyed? None of it made sense. But the gravity in the stranger's plea pricked at her conscience. Her role was safeguarding information, preserving the integrity of countless patients' narratives. Could this be a test, a challenge to her steadfast dedication?

"Which records? Why would they be destroyed?" she probed, her tone steely, betraying none of the unease that gnawed at her.

"You'll know them when you see them. But let's just say it's connected to some concerns you had regarding negligence," came the cryptic reply. "Don't involve anyone else. And hurry. Corner of Harbor and Elm."

The line went dead, leaving a heavy silence in its wake. Fiona sat motionless, the receiver still pressed to her ear. The calm façade of the room seemed suddenly ominous, the rows of filing cabinets now appearing like silent sentinels guarding untold secrets. Her breath came in measured pulls as she weighed the implications of the mysterious directive.

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