by Dawn Eastman
* * *
Katie rinsed her bowl in the sink and set it in the dishwasher. She went back out to the dining room and the stack of charts she’d brought home. Just looking at them made her tired, but she’d never get to sleep tonight if she didn’t comb through them.
There were a total of six charts out of the twenty patients she’d seen that afternoon that she had flagged to bring home. Each patient had acted nervous, asked about a “note,” or mentioned some sort of unrecorded medication.
She started with Mr. Taylor and went back to his first visit with Nick several years earlier. She saw that he had been in a different, much more serious accident back then and for a time had been using a fentanyl patch. As she scanned through the notes, it showed Mr. Taylor weaning off the strong narcotic to a milder one without trouble. His recent accident had required a short course of narcotics and then weaning to a milder pain medicine. Nick had never recorded any other medication.
Her perusal of the other charts showed the same pattern. A patient with a serious accident or injury, followed by a course of strong narcotics, and then weaning to a mild narcotic or no pain medicine at all. She closed the last chart and drummed her fingers on the table.
She sat back to stretch her shoulders and yawned.
Caleb looked up from his computer screen at the other end of the table.
“You look beat,” he said.
Katie nodded. “I can’t tell if these charts don’t make any sense because I’m so tired or if they don’t make sense because Nick hasn’t been charting everything. Or if I’m just being overly suspicious.”
“Maybe you should look again in the morning,” Caleb said. “What’s missing from the charts?”
Katie gestured at the stack of file folders. “All these patients used to be on much stronger narcotics but have now tapered off. However, they all acted like Nick gave them ‘extra’ prescriptions that aren’t recorded in the chart.”
“Is it illegal to not chart that sort of thing?”
Katie shook her head. “I don’t know that it’s illegal in the sense that you could go to jail, but the charts wouldn’t stand up to any sort of certification scrutiny if he was leaving out a large part of the treatment plan.”
“Is there a certification scrutinizer that visits your office?”
Katie laughed at the joke but felt a creeping dread as she looked at the charts.
“No, not really. Not unless there’s a reason for the practice to be investigated.”
“Wait,” Caleb said. “If the practice is investigated, does that mean you could be held responsible for things your partner is doing?”
Katie shook her head. “I really don’t know. I know there are limits to what malpractice insurance will cover, but I don’t know what happens if there is a criminal investigation. It’s not something that comes up in medical school or residency.”
“It sounds like you should find yourself a lawyer.”
Katie looked at him to see if he was joking, but he was dead serious.
22
On Thursday, Katie had just finished her last patient of the morning and was making plans to use her afternoon off to grab lunch and work on her list of questions when she heard John Carlson’s voice in the front reception area. Curiosity winning out over hunger, she headed to the front desk.
Chief Carlson leaned on the counter and spoke quietly to Debra, who, for once, seemed to have nothing to say. She looked at her hands in her lap and nodded solemnly at the chief.
“Hi, John,” Katie said. “What brings you here?” She looked from one to the other, hoping for a clue about what was going on.
“Hey, Doc,” Carlson said. “I need to talk to Dr. Hawkins.”
“He doesn’t come in until after lunch on Thursdays,” Katie said. “Can I help?”
“The other Dr. Hawkins,” Carlson replied. “I need to talk to Nick.”
“Oh. Debra, do you know if he’s still here?”
Debra nodded. “He’s coming.”
“I can take you back, John,” Katie said. “We’ll find him together.”
Carlson crossed his arms and shook his head.
“I’d rather not, Doc,” he said. “I’ll wait here.”
Katie tried to read the undercurrents in the room but couldn’t place the problem.
Nick appeared from the back hall. He’d taken off his white coat and wore a light jacket.
“Thanks, John,” he said. “Let’s go.”
The two men walked out the front door and climbed into the chief’s SUV.
Katie spun toward Debra and narrowed her eyes.
“Spill it.”
Debra’s already tear-filled eyes overflowed, and she sniffled pathetically.
“It’s all my fault,” she said. “I told Sean that Nick stuck you with the call the night Ellen Riley died and that you had to cover his clinic yesterday.”
“I don’t understand,” Katie said. “John already knew about the call issue. How does my covering Nick’s clinic translate into a problem?”
Debra mopped her tears with a handful of tissues. “I also told Sean that Lois said one of her customers at the Clip ’n’ Curl had seen Dr. Hawkins at the Riley house on the night she died, and now they’ve arrested him!”
“What? Chief Carlson didn’t arrest him.” Katie had simply thought they were going to a very strained lunch.
Debra was nodding. “He didn’t put handcuffs on him because they’re friends, but I’m sure he’s under arrest because he doesn’t have an alibi for the night Ellen Riley died.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Katie said in a tone meant to convince herself as much as Debra. She really didn’t want to believe that her suspicions were correct. She thought back to the charts she had read. What if Ellen had known that Nick was prescribing narcotics and not recording them? What if Cecily had told Ellen, and that’s why they hadn’t been friends anymore? Katie wasn’t even sure Nick had done anything wrong, and it didn’t relate at all to Ellen’s notes on color-blindness. But if Nick was at the house that evening . . .
“You’ve told me over and over not to gossip, and now I know why.” Debra blew her nose loudly and continued to leak tears. She slumped in her chair. “This is all my fault.”
“What? Why?”
“I also told Sean that Dr. Hawkins’s wife told her best friend that she thought he was having an affair with Ellen Riley.”
“How did you hear that?”
“Lois overheard them talking at the salon.”
“Oh, Debra.” Katie patted her on the shoulder.
“Sean said maybe he killed Ellen to hide his affair. Or maybe Cecily Hawkins killed Ellen, and they need Nick to help them make a case against her.”
“Debra, I doubt either one of those scenarios is true. But you shouldn’t be talking about those kind of things.”
Debra nodded miserably. “I hope Dr. Nick will forgive me. I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“Does Emmett know?”
Debra sniffed and dabbed at her mascara-smeared eyes. “I don’t know.”
Katie walked quickly toward the break room to see if Emmett’s car was in the lot. Angie came into the room, bringing her anxiety and fear with her. “What’s going on, Dr. LeClair?”
“I’m not sure, Angie,” Katie said. “Nick just left with Chief Carlson. Debra seems to think he’s under arrest.”
Angie’s hand went to her mouth, and her eyes grew large.
“Is Emmett here yet?” Katie asked. “I don’t see his car, and I don’t want him hearing about this from a patient.”
“I’ll call him on his cell and see where he is. He usually stops at the nursing home before coming in on Thursdays.” Angie sat at the table in the small room and waited with the phone to her ear. “I don’t believe this.”
Katie noticed Angie hadn’t asked why the police had picked up Nick.
“Emmett, it’s Angie. Where are you?”
Angie listened and nodded at Katie.
“N
o, it’s not a medical emergency; I’ll just talk to you when you get here. See you in a few minutes.”
Angie clicked the phone shut. “He’s on his way. I don’t think he’s heard yet. It will be all over town in about fifteen minutes, especially with Debra involved.”
“I think Debra has temporarily suspended her news outlet.”
“I’d better cancel Nick’s patients for tomorrow,” Angie said. She stood and walked to the door.
“Wait—don’t cancel the clinic yet. I think Chief Carlson just wants to ask him some questions about Ellen Riley.”
Angie turned slowly. “Ellen Riley?”
“He was on call that night and didn’t answer his phone. I think the chief is trying to piece together what happened.”
“Are you sure? It’s not about . . .” Angie stopped and chewed on her thumbnail.
“Not about what?”
Angie shook her head. “Nothing, I’d better go wait for Emmett.” She hurried out the door before Katie could stop her.
Katie sighed and took her sandwich out of the fridge. She poured a cup of coffee and stood by the window sipping and watching for Emmett. His car pulled into the lot a few minutes later. Angie went out to meet him. Katie couldn’t hear what they said, but she could tell by his reaction that Emmett was as shocked as everyone else, and then he looked relieved when Angie said something more.
What were those two up to? Emmett looked over Angie’s head toward the window, and Katie stepped back from it. She hurried to the table and was well into her sandwich by the time Emmett and Angie came back inside.
Emmett rushed into the clinic, and Katie heard him stop at her office. Katie went to the door of the break room and peeked down the hall.
Emmett ran his hands through his sparse hair, making it stand on end. He caught sight of Katie and walked toward her.
“Angie says Nick was arrested,” Emmett said.
There was something about the nervous way he glanced toward the medication room that made Katie decide to confront him.
“I’m not sure he’s been arrested,” Katie said. “Debra thinks he was, but it may be that Chief Carlson just wants to talk to him about Ellen Riley.”
“About Ellen?”
“He’s investigating her murder,” Katie said.
Emmett looked confused for a moment. “But that doesn’t . . .”
“Emmett, are you worried Nick has been taking drugs out of the med cabinet?”
Emmett slumped into the plastic-and-metal chair that sat near the table.
“I might as well tell you,” Emmett said. “I think it’s more complicated than that, but yes. I’m almost certain he’s selling or trading narcotics prescriptions.”
“What? Why?” This confirmed what Katie had already assumed, but it was still surprising to hear Emmett say it.
“I think he’s having trouble weaning off the narcotics he was taking after his accident. He had some major injuries from that crash, and it took him a long time to heal. I’ve been worried about him for some time.”
“I’m so sorry, Emmett.”
“I’m sorry I kept it from you,” Emmett said. “Angie and I didn’t want anyone to know until we were sure. He could have his medical license suspended or worse. If this gets out, I could lose my practice.”
Katie hadn’t thought about how this could affect Emmett. She had been worried about protecting herself—Caleb’s recommendation of retaining a lawyer had made an impression. And she’d been so busy pinning a murder on Nick that she hadn’t thought much about the impact of a drugs charge on Nick or the practice.
“I don’t think this is due to the missing drugs.” Katie held up her hands. “I’m sure the chief wanted to ask him some questions about the night Ellen Riley died.”
Emmett visibly relaxed and seemed to deflate like an overstretched balloon.
“That’s good.” He smiled weakly at Katie. “Thank you. I know he didn’t hurt Ellen.”
“How do you know?”
Emmett looked away from her, took a deep breath, and let it out. “Because he was with me. I took him to a Narcotics Anonymous meeting in Ann Arbor. He wasn’t happy about it, but he sat through the meeting.”
“You have to tell the police,” Katie said. “They could arrest Nick for murder.”
Emmett shook his head. “I’ll talk to them if I need to, but he didn’t do it. I’m sure they’ll let him go.” Emmett met her eyes and must have read the disappointment there. “Katie, it’s his livelihood, his whole life. I have to protect him if I can.” He turned toward his office with Angie in his wake.
“Do you want me to see what I can find out?” Katie called after him.
Emmett turned.
“The chief owes me a favor,” Katie said. “Maybe he’ll tell me what’s going on.”
Emmett shook his head. “No, thanks; save your favor for something important.” He turned away again and Katie thought he said, “We might need it.”
Even if Emmett didn’t want her help, she couldn’t just sit by and wait. She marched to the front desk to see what more she could pry out of Debra.
Debra was speaking in a low voice into her desk phone when Katie entered the empty reception area. She glanced up quickly as Katie approached.
“Call you back,” she said and set the receiver in its cradle.
“Any news on Nick?”
She shook her head. “They just started his interview about five minutes ago.”
“I’m sure it will be okay, Debra. The chief has been talking to everyone who was connected to Mrs. Riley.”
And Katie was sure—at least she thought she was. If Nick was with Emmett that night, Katie had been way off in her suspicions. Nick was up to something, just not murder. She had another thought. What if Nick was covering for Cecily? Maybe he had told Emmett not to come forward with his alibi. There were a lot of maybes.
She did wonder why the chief had come to get him like that. She and Matt were more involved in the case, and all he did was ask them to come to the station. Katie mulled over this discrepancy on her way back to her office.
When she entered her office, a stack of charts and more phone messages greeted her. She’d have to deal with it all later. She needed to find out what Ellen had been doing before she was killed. Katie believed Emmett, so if Nick hadn’t killed Ellen, who had?
Caleb was in Ann Arbor all day teaching a coding class. Gabrielle was at work. Beth’s phone went to voice mail. Katie’s car was still at the repair shop. She sighed and decided to take a chance. She knew that the sudden nervousness she felt had nothing to do with asking a near stranger for a huge favor. It had everything to do with wanting to see him again. She pulled out her phone and texted Matt.
23
Twenty minutes later, Katie was waiting in the parking lot for Matt.
She saw his car turn into the lot and walked over to meet him.
She climbed in and said, “I can’t thank you enough for doing this.”
“Like I said, I really liked Ellen.”
“According to Beth, her mom was doing some research on Christopher’s family. I think we need to go to the library and see what we can dig up on those people.”
“Library?” Matt asked. “Can’t you just Google them?”
“I did. There was nothing other than Mrs. Riley’s obituary from two years ago. I doubt the Baxter weekly news has been scanned into the web.”
“This is getting pretty old school.” Matt turned the car in the direction of downtown. “Maybe you should wear a trench coat and a fedora.”
Katie smiled. “You want to wear one too, don’t you?”
“I wouldn’t want to pass up a chance to sit in a dark room scrolling through microfilm. And if I could wear a cool hat, all the better.”
Katie laughed. But she was worried there would not be any records at all. Baxter’s library was tiny and mostly loaned out popular paperbacks that had been donated over the years.
Five minutes later, they pulled up outsi
de the Baxter Community Library. Katie was surprised to find the place fairly crowded. Who knew that Thursday afternoon was the business rush for the library?
A loud group of kids was alternately singing and screaming in the children’s area, which was only a roped-off section of the room. Several elderly men had commandeered a table in the corner and sat quietly reading newspapers. A young man shelved books from a cart with a bored, sullen manner. Katie wondered if any of the books would be seen again. He didn’t appear to have any knowledge or respect for the Dewey decimal system.
She and Matt approached the circulation desk to ask about old issues of the Baxter newspaper.
Francine Marshall looked at them over her reading glasses and broke into a warm smile that changed her face from forbidding to almost friendly.
“Hello, Dr. LeClair,” she said. “It’s so nice to see you out and about.”
Katie had recently seen Francine’s eight-year-old twin boys in her clinic. Katie was certain they had never been allowed inside the library—they were the kind of kids that climbed on everything, ran everywhere, and never sat down. When they weren’t punching each other, they were plotting further mayhem.
Katie introduced Matt to Francine and then leaned over the counter and lowered her voice.
“Do you have any old copies of the Baxter Gazette? Maybe on microfilm?”
“Microfilm? How many years ago are you looking for?”
Katie and Matt looked at each other. “Maybe forty or even fifty?” Katie said.
Francine’s eyebrows rose, and she pulled off her glasses. “Hmm. Let’s go take a look and see what we have.”
She led them to a small back room with filing cabinets and began reading the labels. Katie and Matt looked as well, but it didn’t take them long to realize that the files only went back twenty years. And even those drawers were filled with yellowed, dusty, cracked microfilm that likely wouldn’t survive being loaded into a machine.
Matt looked at the microfilm reader and flicked the switch to turn it on. The bulb inside popped, and the light went out.
“Oh, no,” Francine said. “I’ll have to see if we have a replacement bulb.”