Chapter 3 - The Badge With Her Name on It
Faith returned to Mount Sinai two days later.
Not because she felt ready.
Because she was done allowing other people to decide when her life resumed.
Dr. Patricia Williams met her outside the cardiac unit.
She was a tall Black woman in her fifties with silver threading through her braids and the posture of someone who had spent decades being the calmest person in emergencies.
“Before you say anything,” Dr. Williams said, “you still have a job.”
Faith exhaled.
“Thank you.”
“But we need to talk about your badge.”
Faith’s stomach tightened.
In the office, hospital compliance investigator Daniel Cho placed a printout on the desk.
Three withdrawals.
Two from the cardiac pharmacy.
One from a restricted cabinet.
All under Faith’s credentials.
“I didn’t do this.”
Cho nodded.
“We’re not assuming you did.”
Faith looked up sharply.
“Why not?”
“Because the security footage does not match.”
He turned a monitor.
A hooded figure entered the medication room at 2:14 a.m. on a night Faith had been home with Vincent.
The person’s face was hidden.
But the badge worked.
Cho paused the image.
“Your ID.”
Faith stared.
Dr. Williams said, “Someone cloned you.”
Faith’s throat tightened.
“I know who.”
She told them enough.
Not everything about Francesco.
Not yet.
But she named Vincent, Meridian, and Rebecca.
Cho’s expression changed from professional concern to something heavier.
“We’ve already flagged unusual lot numbers from Meridian.”
Dr. Williams looked at him. “Since when?”
“Yesterday.”
Faith went still.
“Why?”
Cho hesitated.
“A patient experienced an unexpected treatment failure.”
“Who?”
“I can’t discuss details.”
Faith did not need details.
She knew the unit.
She knew the medication.
She knew what failure could mean.
That afternoon, she was assigned to an older man named Leon Briggs, sixty-eight, retired transit worker, severe cardiomyopathy.
He was funny, stubborn, and terrified of dying.
“My daughter thinks I’m brave,” he told Faith while she checked his IV. “Don’t ruin it for me.”
“I charge extra for secrets.”
He smiled.
Then his monitor changed.
Faith’s body reacted before her mind finished reading it.
Rapid ventricular rhythm.
“Mr. Briggs, I need you to stay still.”
The team moved.
Medication was ordered.
Faith reached for the preloaded syringe.
Then she saw the lot number.
Meridian.
Same prefix Rebecca had shown her.
Her hand froze.
“Stop,” Faith said.
The resident looked at her. “What?”
“Different syringe.”
“We don’t have time.”
“That lot may be compromised.”
“Based on what?”
Faith met his eyes.
“Based on an active compliance investigation. Get pharmacy to confirm.”
The resident hesitated exactly one second.
Dr. Williams entered.
“Use replacement stock.”
They did.
Mr. Briggs stabilized.
Twenty minutes later, the original syringe was quarantined.
By evening, preliminary testing showed the concentration was wrong.
Far too low.
Faith sat in an empty break room staring at her hands.
Dr. Williams entered.
“You probably saved his life.”
Faith shook her head.
“No. Rebecca did.”
“Who?”
“The woman who betrayed me.”
Dr. Williams sat opposite her.
“Life is inconvenient like that.”
Faith laughed weakly.
Her phone buzzed.
A message from Francesco.
HOW WAS YOUR FIRST DAY BACK?
Faith typed: SOMEONE ALMOST DIED.
His reply came immediately.
I’M COMING.
She stared at the words.
Then typed: NO.
Three dots appeared.
Disappeared.
Appeared again.
Finally: DO YOU WANT ME TO STAY AWAY?
Faith considered it.
She did not.
But she needed to know he would listen.
YES. FOR TONIGHT.
The response came seconds later.
THEN I’LL STAY AWAY.
Faith put the phone down.
Something inside her loosened.
At 9:40 p.m., Daniel Cho found her near the elevators.
“We traced the shipment.”
“Meridian?”
“Yes.”
“And Vincent?”
Cho’s expression was grim.
“His authorization code appears on the chain-of-custody records.”
Faith closed her eyes.
There was one more thing.
Cho handed her a photograph from loading-dock surveillance.
Vincent stood beside a Meridian truck.
Next to him was a man Faith had never seen.
Tall.
Silver hair.
Expensive coat.
Cho said, “Do you recognize him?”
“No.”
“His name is Luca Bellini.”
Faith’s heart sank.
Cho continued.
“And according to the federal task force that called us this afternoon, he’s currently under investigation for ties to organized crime.”
Faith thought of Francesco.
His enemy.
Then Cho said something worse.
“We also found your name on a second document.”
“What document?”
“A company registration.”
Faith stared at him.
“What company?”
Cho placed the page in her hand.
BUCHANAN CLINICAL CONSULTING LLC.
Registered six months ago.
Owner: Faith Buchanan.
She had never heard of it.
By the end of the shift, the hospital had quarantined thirty-seven Meridian products across three departments.
Faith helped nurses search supply rooms, compare lot numbers, and document every item. The work was tedious and frightening because each sealed package represented a question no one could answer quickly enough.
Leon Briggs watched the commotion from his bed.
“Did I pick the wrong week to get sick?” he asked.
Faith managed a smile. “There’s never a good week.”
His daughter, Simone, arrived carrying a grocery bag and immediately demanded to know why security was outside the pharmacy.
Faith explained only what she was allowed to say.
Simone folded her arms. “So somebody made money by watering down heart medicine?”
“We don’t know exactly what happened yet.”
“I do.”
Faith looked at her.
Simone’s eyes filled with anger. “Somebody looked at people like my father and decided the risk was acceptable.”
The sentence stayed with Faith.
Later, Dr. Williams found her in the medication room staring at the empty shelf where the quarantined syringes had been.
“You’re thinking like a nurse,” Dr. Williams said.
“What does that mean?”
“You’re trying to count every person who could have been harmed.”
Faith looked at her. “Isn’t that what we’re supposed to do?”
“Yes. But don’t confuse responsibility with omnipotence. You caught one today. That matters.”
Faith nodded, though she was not sure she believed it yet.
When she stepped outside after work, she saw a black sedan at the curb and assumed Francesco had ignored her request.
It was not his car.
A stranger sat behind the wheel watching the hospital entrance.
The moment Faith looked directly at him, he drove away.
She memorized the license plate.
May you like
For the first time, the investigation no longer felt like something hidden in documents.
It had eyes.
