Doctors are supposed to save lives. But when a killer is on the loose-in a hospital-all bets are off... Chief resident Steve Mitchell is the quintessential surgeon: ambitious, intelligent, confident. Charged with molding a group of medical trainees into doctors, and in line for a coveted job, Steve has a bright future. But when a hospital patient mysteriously dies, it becomes clear that it's a case of foul play. And the killer is set on playing a deadly game with Steve. "Skillfully wrought...breathtaking." - Library Journal (starred review) Someone is holding information that could ruin Steve's career-and his marriage-and is willing to kill to achieve his means. Now, alone and under a cloud of suspicion, Steve must discover a way to outsmart his opponent and save the killer's next victim before the cycle repeats itself, again and again... " Doing Harm is a terrific medical thriller-compelling, gripping, and terrifying."-Harlan Coben This edition of the book is the deluxe, tall rack mass market paperback. “Best damn medical thriller I've read in 25 years. Terrifying OR scenes, characters with real texture.” ― Stephen King “ Doing Harm is a terrific medical thriller--compelling, gripping, and terrifying.” ― Harlan Coben, author of Six Years “A twist worthy of a surgical knot. Flawed characters standing on moral pedestals. Insight into the world of medicine and the ambitious geniuses who make life and death decisions. Doing Harm is more faction than fiction, presenting a world so close to our own that you find yourself second guessing the characters as if they're sitting next to you. Repeatedly, I found myself breathless and troubled yet compelled to keep reading. Brilliant.” ― Ridley Pearson, author of Choke Point “A classic cat-and-mouse game with a refreshing, unexpected twist. It opens with some remarkable bait--dangling a hook that the reader will definitely want to bite. Top notch storytelling.” ― Steve Berry, author of The King's Deception KELLY PARSONS is a board-certified urologist with degrees from Stanford University, University of Pennsylvania, and Johns Hopkins, and he is on the faculty at the University of California San Diego.  He lives with his family in Southern California.   Doing Harm  is his first novel. Doing Harm By Kelly Parsons St. Martin's Press Copyright © 2015 Kelly Parsons All rights reserved. ISBN: 978-1-250-03348-2 CHAPTER 1     Saturday, July 11 “Steve?” Sally’s voice floats down from our bedroom at the top of the stairs. “I’m almost ready. Are the girls okay?” “They’re fine,” I call back automatically, staring into the downstairs bathroom mirror. I give one final tug on my tie, walk out of the bathroom, and step over the baby gate that guards the living-room entrance, separating that space from the rest of our small house like a barbed-wire fence around a POW camp. I survey the scene. Katie is hunched over her play stove in a corner of the room, rummaging through plastic pots and pans and muttering to herself. Her five-year-old face is set in fierce concentration, and I glimpse what family and friends often comment on but that I myself rarely acknowledge out loud: Except for her dark black hair, which today is set in pigtails, Katie is the spitting image of me—green eyes, an elongated face, and prominent ears. Meanwhile, a short distance away, Annabelle observes Katie serenely from her baby walker, thinking about whatever it is that ten-month-olds think about. She looks every bit as much like her mother as Katie looks like me, with straight, dark black hair, matching dark eyes, and a small nose. Annabelle spots me, smiles adoringly, bangs happily on the narrow plastic shelf in front of her, bounces up and down, and waves like she hasn’t seen me in months. I wave back like an idiot, pumping my hand back and forth with childish enthusiasm. The waving thing never gets old at this age, and I love it. “Hi, ’Bella. Hi, sweetie.” Katie spins around. “Daddy!” she shrieks, running over and wrapping herself around my leg. I love that, too. Who wouldn’t? Sure, they’re a pain in the ass sometimes—okay, practically all of the time—but I can’t imagine why anyone would not want to have kids. “I’m making dinner!” “Oh, boy. Show me.” She disengages herself from my leg, takes me by the hand, and leads me to the play stove. She solemnly spoons some white Styrofoam peanuts, the kind used as packing material in shipping boxes, from a plastic pot and into a small bowl, which she then hands to me. I poke its contents suspiciously and hold up one of the thumb-sized peanuts. “Where did these come from?” “Mommy’s box.” She gestures toward an open cardboard box sitting near the front door, a recent purchase from an online store. A few of the peanuts lie scattered on the floor around it, carelessly strewn across the cracked linoleum. “Eat, Daddy.” “Katie, you shouldn’t be playing with these. They’re too small for Annabelle.” “But ’Bella likes them.” My stom