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Judge Harold Williams, who presided over Milov’s three-month trial, deplored California’s medical regulatory system “for allowing these horrific crimes to be committed.” In a final, harsh statement directed at Milov, he said, “Death is too good for you, you butcher. You deserve to rot in hell for the rest of your life behind bars.”
I feel my blood curdle as I read. When I come to the end, questions bombard me. How could a man like this, a doctor no less, exist and be allowed to practice medicine? How could he get away with doing this for so long? Why didn’t the victims speak up earlier? Did Milov get what he deserved?
A huge part of me feels that every victimized woman should have been afforded the opportunity to stab a rusty knife into the sicko’s gut. Do unto others as others do to you. Make him suffer the way they did. Feel their excruciating pain.
Reflexively, I put my hand under my top and run my fingertips over my incision. While still tender, it’s healing. How lucky I was to have a top-notch, caring doctor who knew what he was doing and worked in world-renowned Cedars-Sinai Medical Center. It wasn’t his fault—or the hospital’s—that my baby was breech and my PGP-plagued body went into early labor, resulting in an emergency C-section, a hemorrhage, and a bacterial infection. But thankfully, he and his skilled team acted quickly and were able to save me… and my baby.
I check on Isa, sound asleep in her bassinet, and plant a soft, grateful kiss on her forehead. I love her so much. Then, another thought enters my head. Why did this investigator send my mother this article? And what does this evil doctor, whom I’ve never heard of before, have to do with Nurse Marley Manners? Maybe he copied and pasted the wrong link? Pretending to be my mother, I text him back.
Why did you send me this article?
He replies instantly.
You shouldn’t have to ask.
Furrowing my brows, I text him again.
What do you mean?
He texts back.
Later. Gotta go.
I want to google Dr. Yzak Milov and learn more about him, but a clap of thunder sounds and I jump. Thankfully, it doesn’t wake up Isa.
The sky is darkening. The wind’s picking up.
A flash of lightning. The lights flicker. The storm is just around the corner.
My heart seizes. My life and my baby’s are in jeopardy. What should I do? I’m not thinking straight…
Panic ricochets inside me when my phone pings with a text.
Ned.
FORTY-EIGHT
MARLEY
I love it when a plan comes together.
But nothing is going to plan. It’s like I’m having a really bad hair day.
Driving Ned’s Lamborghini has been anything but fun. I’m rusty with a stick shift, have no clue what half the gazillion buttons on the dashboard are for, and the temperamental car has a mind of its own. I narrowly miss getting into several major accidents.
My nerves on edge, I find a parking spot and dash through The Grove, the popular outdoor shopping mall. First to Pottery Barn Kids to pick up a compact all-in-one stroller that I can push through the airport and allows me to convert the carriage into a child seat I can use on the plane. Then a quick stop at the Gap, where I luckily find some colder-weather baby clothes on sale. Using Ava’s credit card, the only one that works, I also buy myself an all-weather parka.
One last quick thing… I mail the letter in my bag at the adjacent Farmer’s Market post office. It’s going to someone at the Serenity Mental Health Facility in Fresno. Overnight express. They need to know.
The sky darkening, the wind picking up, I leave the mall and make a stop at Whole Foods up the street on Fairfax to pick up some extra formula, diapers, and snacks. I’ve never seen the place so crowded. It takes forty-five I’m-going-to-kill-someone minutes until I’m at last next in line.
“What’s going on?” I ask the whippet-thin, yoga-clad woman in front of me, whose cart is so full it looks like Santa’s sleigh.
“Oh, didn’t you hear?” she says, laying her wares on the conveyor belt one by one, inspecting each item as she does. There are a dozen annoyed people standing behind me. Maybe we can lynch her.
“Hear what?”
“LA’s getting a Category 4 hurricane! It’s expected to hit early this evening.”
