Page 58 of Mirror Image

Jenn

Ten years ago

When the hearing reconvened, I felt the shift immediately—an electric tightness under my ribs at the thought of the looming confrontation. Lunch had been anything but restful; Ruth and I had spent the entire break tracking down the one thread that might save me. Now, sitting back at that long white table, I wasn’t sure whether to be terrified or hopeful.

That’s when David Kellogg strode in—three-thousand-dollar suit, hand-tooled shoes—every inch the egoist who expected gravity to shift when he entered a room.

Ignoring his assigned seat, he claimed the head of the table like a king surveying his fiefdom. When our eyes met, the son of a bitch smiled.

That was the moment I knew I stood a chance. People like him tend to overestimate their power and underestimate the advantage they hand you by doing so.

“Dr. Kellogg, thank you for joining us,” said Joyce Danner.

“Of course. It’s crucial that nothing like what happened to Cami Miller ever happens again.”

And there it was—he was coming for me with both barrels.

He spun his version of the night: smooth, confident, completely false. “I was not made aware of the extent of Miss Miller’s despondency. Dr. Flores lacks the judgment to assess vulnerable patients and could endanger others.”

By the time he finished, the panel was nodding along. I was toast if Ruth’s plan didn’t work.

“Thank you, Dr. Kellogg. We appreciate you taking the time—”

Joyce couldn’t get the sentence out before Ruth cut in.

“Oh, no—we’re not done. Unless you’d prefer your counsel present, Dr. Kellogg? To protect your best interests?”

It was a dare. His grin said he’d taken it.

“No need,” he said grandly. “I’ll make sure Dr. Flores understands she won’t be practicing medicine much longer.”

“Excellent,” Ruth said, all honey.

He gave his colleagues a “can you believe this chick?” shrug. If I knew my attorney, he wouldn’t be smiling long.

“Doctor Kellogg,” Ruth began, “is it your testimony that Dr. Flores alone released Cami Miller?”

“Yes.”

“So you never saw her? Never spoke to her or her parents?”

“No, no, and no,” he snapped. “I wouldn’t know them if they walked in here and started a conga line.”

Ouch. That would age badly—especially with three recorders running.

“Perfect,” Ruth said, flipping open a folder. “Are you familiar with the Code of Federal Regulations §415.172?”

He rolled his eyes. “Seriously?”

“It’s the rule about physician billing. You can’t charge for a service if you weren’t present.” She slid a fax down the table. “Recognize this?”

He snatched it up. “An EOB.”

“Which stands for . . . ?”

He sighed. “Explanation of Benefits.”

“And its purpose?”