I showed up at the hospital to surprise my husband during his shift. But the second one of his coworkers saw me, all the color left his face. Then his eyes filled with tears. “He hasn’t said a word to you, has he?” Ben and I had been married eleven years, and for every one of those years, I had shared him with the hospital. He was a remarkably gifted surgeon.

Brian Carter arrived.

Took over as lead surgeon.

At the foot of the clinical log were Paul’s original signature and Gregory Walsh’s handwritten initials.

“Why did you keep this locked away, Paul?” Brian asked gently.

“Because I knew a crooked man like Walsh would come after me sooner or later once he ran out of people to blame.”

Paul looked up at his old friend, tears pouring down his rain-wet face.

“I told myself it was my own insurance policy, but deep down I held on to it because I was praying I’d find the nerve to do the right thing.”