Richard Mabry: Medical Error

"According to my records, in the past two days there have been numerous charges to your account, and at the present time it's almost two hundred dollars over your credit limit."

"That can't be right."

"No problem," the operator continued, apparently unfazed by Anna's tone. "Your payment history has been good, so if you like, I'm sure we can extend your limit."

Anna felt her heart descend into her shoes. This was defi- nitely not what she needed on top of all her other problems."I don't want my credit limit extended. I want you to remove those charges. They're not mine. I can tell you exactly how much I've used my card in the past week." She fumbled in the folder and withdrew a few charge slips. "I charged gasoline a week ago, then a meal at El Chico, a blouse at Dillard's, and two days ago I bought some things at CVS pharmacy. That's it. That couldn't have put me over my limit. You must have my account mixed up with somebody else's." She heard the panic creep into her voice but couldn't stop it.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. McIntyre. Could your husband have made some of these charges and not told you?"

"It's Doctor McIntyre, and I'm not married. I'm the only person with this card."

This time there seemed to be genuine sympathy in the operator's reply. "Oh. I'm afraid what we have here may be a case of unauthorized usage. If you'll hold for a moment, I'll get a supervisor on the line."

Anna found herself automatically saying, "Thank you," before the full import of the operator's words registered."Unauthorized usage?"

"Unfortunately, it's not that uncommon. The supervisor will get more information from you and confirm a security breach. Then she'll cancel your card and arrange to have a new one sent to you by express courier. You should have it tomorrow afternoon. Will there be someone there to sign for it?"

"Yes."

While the saccharin strains of music on hold played in her ear, Anna considered what this meant. It would be an inconvenience to be without her card for a day, but she had a VISA card she could use until the new MasterCard arrived. Being at home to sign for the delivery would be a pain, but she'd work it out somehow. And she was pretty sure she wouldn't have to pay for the things charged to her account by someone else. Clearing up the mess left behind by whoever hijacked her credit card would be a major nuisance, but somehow she'd get through it. The question that stuck in her mind, going round and round without an answer, was how someone had gotten hold of her credit card information. And did this have anything to do with her DEA number being compromised?

Nick looked at the address written in blue ballpoint ink on his left palm, what he'd once heard called the primitive version of a Palm Pilot. It had taken him twenty minutes of computer surfing to dig up a home phone number for Anna McIntyre and only a few clicks after that to uncover the physical address that went with it. Truly, with the growth of the Internet there was no longer any such thing as privacy.

Now that he was here, he had to wonder why this had seemed so important to him. Because he wanted to help her solve the question of why her patient died? Or because he was excited about seeing Anna?

He eased out from behind the wheel of his Honda Civic and squinted to see the numbers on the doorposts of the duplex. There it was, on the left. He marched to the door and rapped firmly. He made himself wait a measured thirty seconds before repeating his knock, this time a bit harder and longer.

Nick was rewarded with a faint call from inside. "Just a second."

It was closer to two minutes before the peephole darkened for an instant, then the door opened and Anna McIntyre greeted him. She wore a hip-length Dallas Cowboys T-shirt over faded jeans. Her feet were bare, her red hair tousled. Without makeup, the simple beauty of her face shone through. Nick knew that his heart wasn't really doing somersaults, but it sure felt like it.

Anna was talking on a cordless phone as she motioned him inside. She waved him to a seat, pointed to the phone in silent apology, and disappeared into the next room, still talking.

At least she hadn't turned him away at the door. He scanned the living room. Minimal furnishings, but every item obviously chosen with care and taste. He knew how much an assistant professor at the med school made-at least in his department-and he suspected that Anna's personal budget was as tight as his. It appeared that she'd done a nice job with the funds available.

"Sorry." She strode through the door and replaced the phone in its cradle. She scooped up several sheets of paper and shoved them into a manila folder, which she filed in a bottom drawer of the small desk in one corner of the living room. "I've had sort of a personal crisis around here, and I had to finish trying to deal with it."

Nick ran his hand through his dark hair and wished he'd gotten that haircut he'd kept putting off. "I should have called first."

"You wouldn't have gotten through. I've been on the phone for almost an hour, and I refuse to have call waiting. I have trouble enough keeping up with one conversation at a time."She eased down onto the sofa beside him.

Anna had been tense when he saw her earlier today, and apparently, there were still storm warnings flying. He'd love to see her when she actually relaxed. "I'm glad I caught you," he said.

"So, what brings you here?"

Nick hated to jeopardize any chance of turning this into a social occasion by immediately talking about medicine, but that was the reason he was here-or at least, the pretext for the visit. "I got the results of the tests on the blood that Hatley received. Everything checks out. The blood didn't cause the allergic reaction."

Anna frowned. "So it was the antibiotic."

"Probably. But you said he tolerated it only a couple of weeks before."

"Look, I don't have an explanation for it, and right now I have another crisis I'm dealing with." She tucked her feet under her and turned until she faced him. "I know that this afternoon I made a big deal about finding out why Hatley died. Well, it's still a big deal, but unfortunately, it's been overshadowed by some other things-personal things."

"Anything I can do?" Why had he asked that? It was none of his business. But he wanted it to be.

She shook her head. "Nothing, but thanks for offering. It's a hassle with my credit card company. I can handle it."

"Hey, I've been there. They don't cut you much slack, do they?"

"Not really." Anna rose and took a step toward the door. "I appreciate your willingness to help me dig into the cause of my patient's death. It was nice of you to come here in person to tell me what you've found."

He stood, but made no move to leave. "No problem. Hatley's death is bothering you, and it's puzzling me. And I'd like to cooperate in the investigation." He paused, choosing his words carefully. "And, to be honest, I enjoyed our time together this afternoon. I'd really like to get to know you better. Think that's possible?"

Anna looked away. "I'm sorry. I guess you can see I'm pretty preoccupied, and that's one of the curses of being a surgeon. I'm a linear thinker-one thing at a time. I'll worry at this Hatley case like a dog with a bone, and until I get some answers I doubt that I'll be very social."

"I can wait. Meanwhile, let me help you with the Hatley case."

"Frankly, I can't even see why you want to get involved. It was my patient who died. I'm the one who had to face the family. I'm the one who'll probably get sued."

Nick saw the pain in her eyes, heard it in her voice. "You have every reason to want some answers. Maybe I want answers too. One of the things pathologists are good at is piecing together evidence and coming up with conclusions. This is important to me too. If we can pin down the reason Eric Hatley had that reaction, maybe it will keep another patient from dying."