Richard Mabry - Medical Error

Ernst was on her feet next. "If I were a plaintiff' s attorney I'd be salivating to get my hands on this case."

"But, I-"

The lawyer stopped Anna with an upraised hand. "Dr. McIntyre, I don't want to argue with you. I'm aware that you and Dr. Nguyn took actions that are defensible, actions that fall entirely within the standard of care. But that doesn't mean we're not in for a fight." She retrieved her briefcase from beside her chair and shoved her legal pad into it. "I'm going to want to research this a bit, but it may be that the person really at fault in Hatley's death is the one responsible for that false information getting into his medical records. Whether any action on that front would be civil or criminal remains to be seen, and it still may not affect our liability." She nodded toward Fowler, then Anna. "Please let me know if you learn anything more."

Ernst paused at the door and looked back at Anna. Anna thought perhaps she was going to ask about her dealings with the Dallas police, inquire whether Donovan had returned her call. Instead, Ernst gave a faint shake of her head, shifted her briefcase to her other hand, and walked out.

Anna started to stand, but Fowler motioned for her to sit."Hang on just a minute, would you?" He walked to the door and closed it, then returned to his seat behind his desk. "I suggest you let Laura worry about the Hatley case for now. In the meantime, what have you found out about your DEA number turning up on forged narcotics prescriptions?"

"Well, there may be more going on than just that," Anna said. She told him about her credit cards and her compromised credit.

"So you think someone is using your identity, not just to write narcotics 'scripts but to buy things and charge them to you. Have you figured out how? And why?"

Anna shook her head. "Unfortunately, I don't have a clue, but I intend to keep looking. The latest development is that the police have questioned me and searched my home."

"The police? Not the DEA?"

"Apparently, I'm under suspicion by both."

"Do you have a lawyer?" Fowler asked.

"I called Laura Ernst during the police search. She had me throw them out and tell them not to come back without a warrant. Then she gave me the name of an attorney. I'm waiting for him to call me back."

"Why do you think they wanted to search your place?"

Anna had to unclench her teeth to answer. "They have this idea that I'm part of some grand narcotics scheme. I keep hoping that they and the DEA will finally decide I'm a victim here, not a criminal. Whatever happened to innocent until proven guilty? It all seems so unfair."

Fowler held his hands apart, palms up. "Fair's rarely an option in life. Well, keep me posted. I'll see you back here on Friday for the M amp;M conference."

Anna waited for some word of encouragement from her chairman. Instead, he said, "Good luck," and turned back to the stack of papers centered on his desk blotter.

Anna juggled two bulging grocery sacks while she dug for her keys in a purse that strained at the seams. After struggling for what seemed like five minutes, she set her burdens on the front porch. The key ring was, of course, in the furthest depths of her purse. The lock failed to yield to her first couple of tries. She jiggled the key repeatedly and was about to give up when the lock finally opened. Funny, she didn't recall having any trouble like this in the past. Anna peered at the area of the doorjamb around the lock tongue and wondered if those scratches were fresh. Had someone broken in? And could that person still be inside?

She rummaged in her purse and found her cell phone. She had dialed "9-1" before she stopped. This was silly. She was being paranoid. The lock probably needed some graphite, the scratches were old, and she was getting upset about nothing. Besides that, if she called the police every time she saw a shadow, they might not believe her if she really needed them.

Maybe if she went back to the car and got the tire iron out of the trunk-

"What's up?"

Anna was sure she jumped a foot. She swiveled her head around so quickly she heard the bones in her neck crackle. Nick Valentine stood just offthe porch, his hands in the pockets of his windbreaker. "Did I scare you?" he asked.

"Yes. Definitely." She took a deep breath. "But I'm glad to see you. What brings you here?"

"I tried to call before I left the med center, but there was no answer."

"My cell didn't ring. I must have been in a dead zone."

Nick shrugged. "We haven't talked in a couple of days, and I wanted to see what you've found out." He reached down and hefted the grocery bags. "Let me give you a hand with those."

"No! Don't go in." Anna put her hand on his arm. "Sorry. I'm jumpy. Probably it's nothing, but when I got home, the lock on the front door was sticking. Then I saw some scratches around it and thought maybe somebody had broken in. I was about to call the police."

Nick laid the bags beside the door. "No need for that. Just give me a sec." He turned and hurried to his car. She saw him pull something from the glove compartment and shove it into his jacket pocket before striding back to the porch. He motioned Anna aside. "You stay out here until I check things out."

"Don't do anything foolish."

"I won't." Nick reached into his pocket and pulled out a small revolver. He held it loosely in his right hand, his index finger outside the trigger guard, the short barrel pointing skyward."But if someone is hiding in there, they're going to wish they hadn't picked this house."

"That's it. No intruders inside, and no sign that one's been here." Nick jammed the gun into his pocket before retrieving the grocery bags from the front porch. "Where do you want these?"

Nick noticed a strange look on Anna's face as he helped unpack the bags in her kitchen. "Hey, I don't blame you for being suspicious," he said. "But I looked at those scratches around the lock, and I'm pretty sure they're old. And the lock probably needs some graphite."

Anna pulled a chair away from the kitchen table and dropped into it. "No, I'm glad it was nothing. What has me upset is the sight of you with that gun in your hand." She dry washed her face with a hand that trembled slightly. "I guess I didn't expect that."

"Would you like me to put it away?"

"Please."

Nick went outside and placed the gun back in its resting place under a stack of road maps in his car's glove compartment. Glad I didn't need it. But I'm glad it's there.

As he walked back into the house, he held out his hands in a "look, they're empty" gesture.

"Thanks," Anna said.

Nick picked up the empty paper bags from the counter and folded them carefully before he sat down across the table from Anna. "I'm sorry. I guess I should explain why I have the gun."He leaned forward with his elbows on the table. "During my first year of med school I moonlighted at an all-night convenience store in Lubbock. If you read the papers or watch the news, you know that's a dangerous job. The owner refused to keep a gun behind the counter. He was one of those who believed that if you handed the robber the money, you wouldn't get hurt." Nick began moving the saltshaker in random circles on the tabletop. "I spent my first paycheck on the training course required for a concealed carry permit. Then I bought this gun. Every night I worked, I had it on a shelf under the cash register." He looked down and closed his eyes as the memories came back, sharp-edged and fresh.

Anna's voice was quiet, almost a whisper. "So it kept you safe."

"In a manner of speaking." He opened his eyes and looked directly into hers. "A guy came in at two one morning, hopped up on speed or something. He pulled a gun out of his belt and pointed it at me. Told me to give him all the money in the register. The way his hands were jerking, I was praying that gun didn't have a hair trigger. I pulled out the bills-probably about seventy dollars-and all the time, my eyes never left that automatic in his hand. The barrel looked about as big as the mouth of a tunnel. Then I thought I saw his trigger finger start to twitch." He shook his head, but couldn't stop the film that was unwinding in his head.