Lethal Adhesion (EBOOK)

by Dobi Cross
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When a routine surgery turns deadly, Dr. Zora Smyth must fight tooth and nail to save herself and her loved ones. 

As Joan of Arc for her patients, Dr. Zora Smyth fights daily for each one to survive. So when a routine surgery ends with a patient dying on her operating table, Zora is determined to find out why. 

But she soon realizes things are not what they seem, with an enemy lurking behind-the-scenes bent on taking her down and ruining her life. 

When the case spirals into a malpractice lawsuit that could end her career, and strange attacks begin on those dear to her, Zora races to uncover the truth, cut off the enemy, and save her loved ones.

But will she succeed in time to stop an enemy desperate to destroy her and her loved ones at all costs, or will ghosts of the past swallow them up?

BOOK 5 of the Dr. Zora Smyth Medical Thriller Series.

Main Tropes: Strong Female Protagonist, Hospital Intrigue, Medical Thriller with Legal Elements, Innocent Accused, Criminal Cover-Up, Deception, Found Family, Mysterious Antagonist, Race Against The Clock, and Reluctant Heroine

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Dead. Dead. Dead.

Those were the words that raced through Dr. Zora Smyth’s mind, in time with the constant blare from the cardiac monitor that dominated the air.

The muscles of her jaw tightened. This shouldn’t have happened, she thought as she gazed down at the still body of the middle-aged male patient lying on a gurney in one of Lexinbridge Regional Hospital’s Emergency Room cubicles.

The patient should have had emergency surgery after they’d seen him in the ER—he’d have only needed a brief hospital stay before heading home. Maybe he could have even had a lobster roll for dinner in about a week. Now the patient was going to the morgue.

Zora let out a small sigh. This was what came from hiring idiots like Herbert IV into the general surgical residency program. Herbert—a fellow chief surgical resident of Zora’s at the hospital—had no business working with patients.

Why?

No empathy. Check.

Poor surgical skills. Check. He was a fifth-year resident, for goodness’ sake. If he hadn’t mastered the basics by now, when would he ever learn?

Incompetence. Check.

Zora had lost count of how many times other junior residents had taken the blame for Herbert’s mistakes. And the list went on and on.

As far as Zora was concerned, a surgeon with all the above was a licensed murderer waiting to happen. Why was Herbert still in the program when any other doctor with his issues would have been booted a long time ago? How had he even made it into this surgical residency program that was so hard to get into in the first place?

And no, she wasn’t biased because Herbert had been best buddies with Dr. Graham, another colleague who’d been involved in a nasty organ trafficking case that Zora had blown open. Herbert had hated Zora long before that incident, for some unknown reason.

Where was the idiot, anyway? Herbert was supposed to be on call and must have gotten the page about this patient. Thursday and Friday nights were busy days at the ER, so her department scheduled two senior residents on call on those days instead of one, which was how she’d ended up with him on the same call.

Zora looked over the heads of the other medical staff in the cubicle who had worked hard to help resuscitate the patient and scanned for any signs of Herbert’s hulking figure.

Nope. Still nowhere in sight.

Zora turned back to the patient. She couldn’t leave yet—she had one more thing to do for him. “Time of death is nine twenty-one p.m.” She stood aside and watched as they covered the patient with a pale blue hospital linen, while another nurse began dismantling the breathing apparatus. Then Zora stepped out of the cubicle to break the news to the family.

Fifteen minutes later, Zora reached the surgical residents’ lounge and yanked open the door so hard it slammed against the wall behind it. A few heads in the room jerked in her direction at the sound, but Zora ignored them. Her eyes searched and then narrowed as she spied the person she was looking for.

Herbert sat at a workstation, his broad back to her and his concentration focused on the large burger he was scarfing down, ketchup dripping down the corners of his mouth.

Zora’s hand closed into a fist. A patient was dead because of his incompetence, and he was eating a burger?

Herbert got up in that moment as he stretched to reach the box of tissues on the far corner of the workstation.

A sardonic smile crossed Zora’s face. The universe was on her side.

She strode forward and wrenched Herbert’s chair away as he made to sit down.

Herbert crashed on the floor with ketchup splattered all over him, his half-eaten burger landing in a mess a few feet away.

“What the… I’m going to sue you for assault!” Herbert screamed at Zora as he scrambled to his feet, his face a bright shade of red, and his neck strained with bulging veins...

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