Clayton

 

I’ve been listening to the feed from the bug in the manager’s office for close to four hours, but nothing of significance has been said, and the only thing I’ve learned is his job is fucking boring. Just as I start to think we left the device with the wrong person, a knock on a door crackles though the speaker. I tap on the encasement, and the static clears enough for me to differentiate the voices spilling through. 

“Dr. Ackerman, how are you?” The faint squeak of wheels gliding across the linoleum fades, then gets louder, and abruptly stops before a swoosh of air is released.

“Good. And you, Frank?”

“Great, great. Please, have a seat. Would you like something to drink? I can ring Shelly and she can bring us something.” The sound of wood scraping is faint.

“No, thanks. I’m really busy, so if you could just get on with why you called me to your office, I need to get back to the patients.”

“Sure, sure. This shouldn’t take long.” He clears his throat. “I’ll start by saying I’m in no way accusing anyone of anything, but since this was brought to my attention, I felt it was my place to check into it and—”

“Just get to the fucking point, Frank.”

“Right. When they did the autopsy on Mrs. Elizabeth James, it seems there was a significant trace of muscle relaxer in her blood work, though it wasn’t listed on her chart. Obviously, I’m no doctor, but as noted here by the coroner, there was a negative reaction to the muscle relaxer and the other prescriptions Mrs. James was being given, which caused her heart to overwork and eventually fail.”

I work the muscle in my jaw at the mention of Lacy’s mother and the details of her death. My mind drifts to her and the way she reacted at the coffee shop. If it turns out her mother’s death was simply a mistake, she’ll be devastated. That thought makes my chest tighten. I bring my attention back to the speaker as they continue.

“What does any of this have to do with me? Dr. Miller was the medical doctor treating her. I only saw her the few times she was coherent to determine whether she was ready to start psychiatric treatment. She wasn’t.”

“I understand, Dr. Ackerman. However, all of Mrs. James’ medical records are now missing. The soft copy data has been wiped clean from the servers, and no one has been able to find the hard copies.” There’s a brief pause in the audio before Frank speaks again. “Dr. Ackerman, we have a witness stating you were the last one with the hard copy file. Might you know where it is?”

Deep laughter spills from the speakers. “Was all this really necessary? Why didn’t you just call and ask me where the file was? I distinctly remember giving it to Dr. Miller’s assistant, a couple weeks ago, after I signed the psychiatric form stating my services weren’t needed. If it’s missing, I suggest you reach out to her.”

“Very well. We’ll check with his assistant again. Any thoughts on the soft copies?”

“I’m probably the least technologically literate person at this facility. I think you know I prefer working from the hard copies. Had I wanted to know anything about technology, I would have studied it in college, but I didn’t, and the answer is no, I don’t have any thoughts on what might have happened to the soft copies.”

The sound of shuffling filters through the speaker. “Thank you for your time, Dr. Ackerman. Please accept my apologies for pulling you away from your patients. I’m sure you can understand my point of view. When questions are raised about the death of a patient within the care of our facility, there’s always a chance we’re at risk of a lawsuit from the family, and possibly criminal charges.”

“I appreciate you bringing it to my attention. When I get some free time later, I might also place a call to Dr. Miller’s assistant.”

There’s a thud of a door closing, and the sound goes quiet.

The shitty excuse for a desk chair moans as I lean back and replay the conversation between Frank and Dr. Ackerman.

While Elizabeth James wasn’t the reason we placed the device in Frank Callahan’s office, the more intel we gather on any incompetency related to the practices at Magnolia Woods, the more leverage we’ll have should we need it later on. Just the mention of Dr. Miller and foul play is enough to suggest Mrs. Fitzgerald is also very much in danger.

I pull my phone from my pocket and call Deloris to fill her in on what I’ve learned.

She answers on the first ring. “That information about Elizabeth James is surprising yet useful should we get in a bind. It’s unfortunate we didn’t get what we were looking for, but I’ve tapped into their network and should be able to pull Mrs. Fitzgerald’s schedule as well as that of the employees.”

  The corners of my mouth turn up. I should have known she’d be listening. “Send me the schedule as soon as you get it. We’ll need to review then determine the best time when the least number of employees will be present.”

“You should have it in the next couple hours. We can meet at the warehouse say, nine a.m.?”

“Works for me. See you then,” I add before the line goes dead.

The task of getting Mrs. Fitzgerald out of that facility unnoticed, and somewhere she can get the care she needs, is going to be a challenge, especially now that I’m on the other side of the law.