Livvy started the first article, then sat back with her mouth in an O. “Holy Mackerel! You weren’t kidding...this is serious.”
“Let me in on what’s so amazing.” LuAnne had appeared to take their order.
Before Kate could speak, Livvy said, “Kate’s hot on the trail of what’s up with the spike in medical mistakes in this area.”
“I knew you’d do it, girl!” LuAnne snapped her fingers. “You can get me up to speed sometime when I’m not jumpin’ like a frog on a hot skillet. Now what can I get you two?”
Kate and Livvy gave their orders, then Kate handed LuAnne the menus. “Tell Loretta I’d like to talk to her as soon as the rush is over.”
“Will do.” The waitress hustled away to greet a fresh batch of customers.
Kate sipped from her water glass while her friend continued to absorb the printed articles. Then Livvy handed them back to Kate, who stuffed them in her purse.
“This is explosive stuff.” Kate patted her bag.
“I’ll say!” Livvy bobbed her head.
Kate let out an amazed laugh. “This morning I was considering the possibility of a software malfunction causing all these problems, but if it’s medical-record identity theft, then someone—or more likely, a group of someones—is doing this to people on purpose.”
“Traces back to old-fashioned greed.” Livvy shook out a napkin and placed it on her lap as LuAnne approached. They both sat back as the waitress put their orders in front of them.
“Loretta’ll see you as soon as you’re done eatin’,” LuAnne told Kate.
“Good. Thanks.” She grinned up at the waitress. “I can hardly wait for this conversation.”
LuAnne flashed a smile back. “If it’ll improve the atmosphere around here, I can hardly wait either.” She walked off, humming.
“There is one good thing.” Kate turned toward Livvy and picked up her sandwich. “If my conclusion is correct about identity theft, that means Carla was likely telling the truth about the Vicodin prescription being in Mrs. Kraemer’s chart. However, since it immediately disappeared as soon as the mistaken information caused a crisis, someone at Orchard Hill has to be involved in the record thefts. So that’s a good lead.”
Livvy wagged a french fry at her. “And you have a suspect?”
“Too many, I’m afraid.”
They finished their lunch and then Livvy had to get back to work. Kate peered into the kitchen, looking for Loretta. Standing at the grill, J.B. jerked his head toward a closed door at the rear of the employee area. “She’s waiting for you back there.”
Kate crossed the cooking area and knocked.
“Come on in,” Loretta’s gruff voice answered.
Loretta was seated behind an ancient metal desk piled with catalogs and menus and bills and receipts. Her grim face revealed that stress weighed heavy on her.
Kate took the scuffed plastic guest chair opposite the desk. “I thought you might be interested to know that you’re not the only person in town being billed for medical services they never received.”
The diner owner sat up stiff as a pike. “Really? Who else is?”
Kate sent her a rueful smile.
“You?” Loretta’s eyes went as round as one of her dessert plates.
“Paul.” Kate nodded.
“Well, I’ll be a treed possum!” The diner owner shook her head as if someone had sucker punched her. Then she scowled. “I suppose you folks are gonna look up a lawyer right away and expect me to go along with you.”
“I imagine a lawyer will be one of our next steps, but I discovered some information this morning that might help us both know what we’re up against.” Kate dug the articles out of her handbag and gave them to Loretta. “These might help you see that seeking legal help is our best option.”
The diner owner read the top page, eyebrows bobbling up and down, then she stared at Kate. “Whoo! This is exactly what’s going on with me. Do you think someone stole my identity and got medical services in my name?”
Kate nodded. “The circumstances fit.”
“They sure do.” Loretta’s face lit up. “Maybe if I call those places in Rochester and tell them someone is pretending to be me, they’ll quit billing me.”
“I don’t think it’s that easy,” Kate said, shaking her head. “Step one would be reporting the matter to law enforcement.”
Loretta’s eyes narrowed. “That means police and statements and lawyers and courts. Why don’t you just go ahead, then, and I’ll watch and see how things turn out.”
Kate’s teeth grated against each other. If stubborn were a person, Loretta was the embodiment, from her topmost hair follicle right down to her pinkie toenail. Maybe a different approach would work. “Loretta, you’re a good cook.”
“Why, thank you.” The woman wavered a bemused smile.
“But wouldn’t you say there are some poor cooks out there?”
“That’s for sure.” She snickered.
“Now, just because you and I know there are some bad cooks out there, does that mean I should never go to a restaurant?”
“’Course not. You just do your homework first and figure out the good places to eat.”
Kate snapped her fingers. “Exactly. It’s the same thing with any profession, including doctors and lawyers.”
Loretta’s jowls quivered. “I see what you mean up here”—she tapped her forehead—“but it feels wrong in here.” She put a hand on her chest. The phone shrilled, but Loretta ignored it. “I’m not sure we have anything more to talk about. I wish—” The phone jangled again. Frowning, she picked it up.
“’Lo.” She paused. “This is she.” Another pause. Then the older woman leaped up with a little cry and flung the handset away from her. It dangled off the end of the desk, swaying back and forth near Kate’s feet. “They found me here,” Loretta wheezed as she backed into a corner. “I thought I was safe. They’ve never called the diner before.”
“Ms. Sweet?” a female voice came faintly from the handset.
Loretta gestured toward the phone. “Y-you do it. Please!”
Frowning, Kate scooped up the receiver. She’d never spoken to a bill collector before. Taking a deep breath, she put the handset to her ear. “This is Kate Hanlon, a friend of Ms. Sweet’s. How can I help you?”
“I’m afraid I’m not authorized to speak to anyone but Ms. Sweet about her account,” a businesslike voice returned.
Kate paused and glanced at Loretta. “What if she authorizes me to speak on her behalf?”
The woman sighed. “I suppose that would be all right. I’d very much like to make progress in this matter.”
“Let’s see if we can arrange that.” Kate held out the phone to Loretta.
Loretta motioned Kate to keep it and pressed a button on her phone. “We’re high tech at the office,” she said. “Speakerphone.” Then she scowled at the instrument. “You listen to Kate Hanlon, and you listen good. She knows what’s going on, and she’ll set you straight, that’s what.”
“Now, ma’am, please stay calm,” the bill collector said. “We’re merely trying to arrange for the payment of your bill.”
Kate trembled a little and prayed for strength and wisdom. “This is Ms. Hanlon. I need to inform you that we have reason to believe that Ms. Sweet is a victim of medical-record identity theft.” Would that information make any difference?
The woman cleared her throat. “What leads you to believe such a thing?”
“For one thing, Loretta has never had cancer, much less treatment for it.” Kate huffed. “The other clue is a rash of maltreatment for patients in our area, as well as erroneous bills.”
“That’s a serious issue, ma’am, but the bills won’t go away unless such a thing is proved.”
“I understand that.” Kate took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Would an appeal to the heart do any good? “How would you feel if something like this happened to someone you love?”
A gasp came from the bill collector, then silence for a lon
g moment. “Just a second,” the woman finally said. A click sounded. A recorder switching off? “All right. I’m not supposed to talk to you off the record, but you hit me where I live. My brother went through the nightmare of medical-record theft last year.” The woman’s voice had gone from cool professional to warm and human.
Kate suppressed a surprised chuckle and sent a prayer of thanksgiving heavenward for the inspiration. Bill collectors were people too. “What did your brother do about it?”
“The usual stuff. Reported it to the police, got his credit report, found a legal-aid society to give him advice on procedures like picking a lawyer...that sort of thing.”
Kate grabbed a pencil and a stray sheet of paper to take notes. “A legal-aid society?” She marked the suggestions down.
“Sure. You should look for any in your state that specialize in protecting citizens’ privacy. Generally they have experience in defending against medical-record identity theft.”
“That’s great information. How did things turn out for your brother?”
“It took time, but eventually he got the bills off his record.”
Kate met Loretta’s wide-eyed gaze across the desk. “Would that have happened if he hadn’t gotten a lawyer?”
The woman snorted. “Not likely.”
Loretta looked away, biting her lower lip.
“Thank you,” Kate said to the woman at the other end of the line. “You’ve helped more than you know.”
“You’re welcome.” The woman let out a brief laugh. “Now I’ve got to get back to business.”
“Seems like kind of a bummer business.”
“It pays the bills, and you have no idea how many genuine deadbeats there are out there.” She paused. “Oh, um, I can’t guarantee someone from this office won’t be calling Ms. Sweet again. We need legal word to quit.”
“I understand.” Kate nodded toward Loretta. “Ms. Sweet is going to seek counsel right away.” She lifted a brow at the diner owner.
Loretta bobbled her head as if her neck was on a spring.
BACK AT HOME, Kate wished that Paul were available so she could share her stunning news with him about medical-record identity theft. She shrugged and sighed. That conversation would have to wait until that evening.
She tried again to call Pearl Haggerty and got an answer on the fourth ring. The woman’s scratchy voice made her sound old enough to live at the assisted-living facility.
“Hi, Mrs. Haggerty. This is Kate Hanlon from Copper Mill. My husband and I are dear friends of Nehemiah Jacobs, who lives at Orchard Hill.”
“Oh yes, I know Nehemiah. Fine gentleman. I’m going to miss him.” A deep sigh followed.
“He felt so badly about what happened on Sunday that he called us about it that night.” She tucked one strand of her hair behind an ear. “I just wanted to let you know how much we appreciate volunteers like you who make the residents’ days brighter.”
“Thank you.” The woman’s tone perked up. “I haven’t given up on returning. My son is going to help me compose a letter of protest to the administrator, and we’re going to go in and see him too.”
“I hope you get reinstated, Mrs. Haggerty.”
“Call me Pearl.”
“Pearl it is, then.” Kate leaned her elbows on the kitchen counter. “I’m a little confused about how this mess happened. It doesn’t sound like you were doing anything wrong.”
“Not in my book.” The woman sniffed. “I was just getting a few pushpins to hang some photos on a resident’s bulletin board.”
“Then why would Nurse Pritchard suspect you were up to no good? That doesn’t make sense.” Kate’s brows scrunched together. “Were there some confidential documents open on the desktop or computer that Nurse Pritchard was concerned about?”
“Not a thing that I could see, but then I wasn’t there to snoop.”
“Hmm.” Kate ran her finger along a crack in the countertop. “So there was nothing on the computer screen?”
“It was black, if that’s what you’re asking, but I understand that doesn’t mean it was off. My son says you can wiggle some mousy thing that wakes it up...whatever all that means.” She snorted a laugh. “And I can tell you, no one will get me to touch a mouse—even an electronic one.” The woman chuckled.
Kate laughed with her. Pearl hadn’t lost her sense of humor over her misfortune, a likable quality. And Kate sensed no insincerity in her tone or words. Her lack of interest in all things computer didn’t indicate someone capable of tampering with electronic records.
“Thanks for your time, Pearl. We’ll keep you in our prayers. I hope to hear you’re back at Orchard Hill very soon.”
“The prayers would be so appreciated,” the woman said.
Kate hung up the phone, brows drawn together in a thoughtful frown. Nurse Pritchard was looking more and more like a prime suspect, and maybe Margo Meyers as an accomplice, but there was only circumstantial proof to offer.
Kate got busy with her daily tasks, her mind sifting through the things she’d heard and discovered. How could she get at the truth without harming the innocent? What about the medication order Carla claimed was in Mrs. Kraemer’s file? Locating the doctor who issued the prescription for Vicodin might uncover clues pointing to the culprit who had erased the prescription from the system.
Only Carla Trexler actually claimed to have seen the doctor’s order, but the information she’d shared with Kate about the name had been pretty unclear. Some guy named Nathan or Nolan something. Maybe. Another conversation with Carla might yield more information...if the young nurse would be willing to talk to Kate again.
She picked up the phone and tapped in the numbers. Almost immediately, a recording came on that announced the number was no longer in service. Heart sinking, Kate hung up. Had Carla changed her number so Kate couldn’t call her anymore? That would be extreme. Or was the telephone one of those bills that had to wait a while?
“A MEDICAL RECORD is worth many times more on the street than a social security number,” Kate told Paul that evening at the supper table. “It’s big business, and even organized crime is getting in on the act.”
The dirty dishes from their meal lay around them, but neither one got up to carry them to the sink. Paul’s brows were pulled tightly together, his lips pinched. Kate rarely saw such a dark look on his face.
“Many people are desperate for medical care they can’t afford on their own, so buying a stolen record is a cheap way out of their dilemma,” she continued. “But that’s not all.” She shoved the Internet printouts toward her husband. “These articles talk about cases where doctors or other medical personnel can get involved by filing fraudulent claims with Medicare or insurance companies based on information from stolen records.”
Paul gusted a long breath. “I wish I could say you were on the wrong track, but the circumstances fit too well. This business is serious and dangerous. I’m not sure you should keep on looking into it on your own. You could run up against some very bad people.”
Kate rubbed her chin. “Actually, the scariest person I’ve run across is a nursing assistant who might be using illegal drugs.” She told him about her online research and the blog she suspected belonged to Stephen Hancock. “He may be antiestablishment, but I have a hard time seeing a guy who provides the most menial of services to the elderly as a mobster.”
Paul chuckled. “That picture doesn’t fit the profile, does it?”
“Did you get the fax from Regions Hospital today?”
Her husband rose and began clearing the dishes. “I did, and I faxed the request for those records in my name back already.”
Kate picked up an empty serving platter and a salad bowl and headed to the sink with Paul on her heels. “Did they say how long before we can expect to get them?”
“Two weeks, minimum, maybe three.” He started water running in the sink.
“That’s frustrating.” Kate sighed. “We need to go to the sheriff with this issue, but even Skip Spence
r would laugh us out of the deputy’s office if we show up without a medical record in hand.”
The articles she’d pored over all afternoon had verified the information she’d gotten from the bill collector: the problems caused by medical-record identity theft didn’t go away on their own. Victims had to report the issue to the police, get a copy of their credit report to uncover the extent of bills charged in their name, and do a thorough check of their medical record.
Unfortunately, according to the articles, the lack of awareness about medical-record identity theft sometimes made the authorities reluctant to believe in it and take action. And while the credit report might give a realistic idea of the financial damage, it wouldn’t expose who was behind it. To top it off, medical institutions could be obstructive about supplying a full medical record if they suspected that some of the data contained in it didn’t belong to the individual requesting the material. How backward was that when the federal privacy laws could be used to protect the criminal rather than the victim? For the moment, it was probably a good thing that Regions Hospital believed the records in their possession belonged to the real Paul Hanlon.
KATE SNUGGLED INTO BED that night still wrestling with the enormous issues created by medical-records identity theft. All the sources said to report the matter to law enforcement, but Kate needed more to bring to their local sheriff than a few erroneous bills. If only she could find another avenue to prove someone has been messing with medical records. Something that might also point toward the guilty culprit or culprits. After what seemed like forever, her racing brain finally settled down, and she drifted off to sleep.
In the wee hours, Kate jerked awake and sat bolt upright.
“What’s the matter?” her husband muttered.
“I’m a complete idiot!” she gasped.
“You’re what?” Paul sat up on one elbow.
Kate rubbed her head with the heel of her hand while her mind raced. “If there was one wrong entry in Shirley Kraemer’s record, there could be more. That could be dangerous for Mrs. Kraemer, but it could also provide leads. Maybe even the doctor’s name. I need to talk to Lucy Mae. She needs to get a copy of that record pronto!”
Off the Record Page 14