Chapter 7

The tugboat rocked against the pilings at low tide. Emil slept in the narrow bunk, his cast propped on a life vest. Lina sat beside him, the doll stitched back together with fishing line.

Ben handed me coffee. “Paul got temporary custody. Miller has an APB out on you. The clinic is locked down. The state medical board won’t return calls.”

“Then we make them listen,” I said.

I looked at Lina. “The nurse who cried. Sarah. Did she have a last name on her badge?”

Lina thought hard. “Sarah. And a blue flower.”

“Bluebell?” Ben asked.

“Yes,” Lina said. “A bluebell.”

Ben pulled out his phone. “Sarah Bluebell. She’s a surgical nurse at North Coast. My sister can find her.”

“Call your sister,” I said. “Tell her we have a recording of Paul Kessler admitting billing fraud. Tell her we have a witness who saw him operate on a healthy child.”

Ben made the call. Then he looked at me. “She says she can bring the state medical board, but she needs the nurse to talk. Without her, it’s your word against a surgeon’s.”

I nodded. “Then we find Sarah Bluebell.”

The next morning, December 17, I left the children with Ben’s wife and drove to a small apartment complex in Seaside. Sarah Bluebell opened the door with a baby on her hip. She saw my face and tried to close it.

I put my boot in the door. “You cried in the blue-tile room,” I said. “You gave Lina a juice box. You know what he did.”

Sarah’s face crumpled. “I have a family.”

“So did my sister.”

She let me in.

By the time I left, I had copies of billing files she’d hidden on a flash drive. She had names, dates, and a photo of Paul forging a consent form. She agreed to testify if the FBI protected her.

“He’s not going to stop,” Sarah said. “He told me the children were a loose end.”

I drove back to the tugboat with the files and a plan.