T Wave (10 page)

CHAPTER 28

Late in the evening, William Cline pulled his Cadillac CTS into the garage of his relatively modest home and switched off the engine. He remained motionless in the driver’s seat for a minute, staring at the shovel and rake hanging on the wall in front of his car. He finally pulled himself out of the sedan and entered his house.

His wife Sally looked up and smiled as Cline entered. She walked over and gave him a peck on the cheek. “I’m glad you’re home. You’ve been working so late recently!”

“Yes, I have,” replied Cline, gazing in the direction of the television. “Did you make anything for dinner?”

“Yes, I grilled the tilapia. Let me go warm up your plate.” She scurried off to the kitchen, and soon the microwave’s motor could be heard whirring. In the meantime, Cline kicked off his shoes and loosened his tie.

Sally brought out the meal and sat at the table with Cline as he slowly chewed his food.

“Is there something going on with work—some project?” she asked. “It’s not like you to stay there so late all the time.”

“Yes—sort of. Remember how I pushed for the company to build Serenity, our second hospice? Well, so far it hasn’t been profitable, and I’m working on a way to fix that.”

“Surely it’s not up to you alone, is it? Wouldn’t there be lots of people working on that problem with you?”

“Yes, but to move up in the company, you’ve got to take chances, be willing to stick your neck out. Building Serenity was my pet project. If I can’t figure out a way to make it turn a profit soon, I’ll be moving out instead of up.”

Sally appeared startled at this revelation but retained her composure. “I understand your reasons for staying late, especially if your job in on the line. I’ve just never seen you so obsessed with work. It worries me.”

Cline managed a wan smile. “I’ll be okay. Anyway, you don’t need to be too concerned. I think the plans I’ve set in motion over the last couple of months will turn things around pretty quickly.”

Sally looked up expectantly. Cline smiled and took another bite of the fish. He did not, however, choose to elaborate on his plans.

FRIDAY, JULY 20

CHAPTER 29

The next morning, Alton rang Jake Hines, his boss and company President, for the second time in a week.

“Hi, Mr. Hines. It’s Alton Blackwell.”

“Alton! How are you, my man?”

“Fine, sir.” Although Alton stayed on a first-name basis with his peers and staff at Kruptos, his years in the Army had ingrained a more formal method of addressing his commander, whether he be military or civilian.

“And…how is your friend, David Dunlow?”

“As good as can be expected—thanks. I think he’s benefiting from having his friends near him.”

“I’m sure you’re right,” said Hines. His tone softened. “I almost lost my father to cancer a few years ago. I can only imagine what David is going through. However, I’m sure you called for some other reason, not discussing this painful topic. How can I help you, Alton?”

“Mr. Hines, I’d like to request permission to work from the DC area a bit longer. I have two reasons: one personal and the other professional. If it’s all right with you, I’d like to cover the personal one first.”

“All right—shoot.”

Alton explained his offer to investigate Nancy Goins’ concerns over the spate of unexplained deaths. He knew Jake Hines was aware of his successful resolution of two previous investigations. As such, Alton hoped his boss would view the request with a friendly eye.

“Alton, I understand your desire to help your girlfriend solve a case, and I do believe you could help, but we still have project deadlines staring us in the face. How will this investigatory work impact your Kruptos commitments?”

“I understand your concern, sir. Let me state for the record that I wouldn’t make this request if I didn’t feel comfortable I could deliver a quality, on-time product. Your question does, however, lead to the professional reason for my request to remain in this area a while longer.”

“Go ahead,” prompted Hines.

“Thank you, sir. As you know, I’m managing the Zeus project, which kicked off just last month when we signed a contract with the FCC. Since Zeus is all about providing encryption and protection for federal communication networks, I’ve been in contact with a lot of IT folks in Washington, both in the FCC as well as other federal departments. When we started Zeus, my original hope was that once we had our foot in the door with the FCC, we’d be able to branch out into other federal agencies and expand the scope—and profitability—of the project.

“Before this trip, though, I had been on the horn with a lot of other federal agencies, but it was slow going getting them on board. It was also a bit slow trying to define the software requirements with the FCC over the phone.

“For the past couple of weeks, though, I’ve been able to meet face-to-face with our current and potential clients here in Washington. I have to tell you, sir, that I’m making much better progress with these in-person meetings, both working with our existing, contracted customers as well as stirring up interest in Zeus.”

“I see. I didn’t realize you were doing so much sales work,” observed Hines.

“Well, sir, based on my experience, each federal agency’s software requirements are likely to differ slightly from the other agencies’. If we can get the majority of customers on board early, my job of designing a product that’s sufficiently robust to meet all their needs will be substantially easier. It actually saves me and my project team quite a bit of time in the long run.”

Hines laughed. “You have me convinced. Which other federal agencies are interested?”

“The AFT and FTC have already signed contracts. I’ve also received ‘solicitation of bids’ from the SEC, FEMA, and the Commerce Department. We’re the only game in town that has a shot at those solicitations, so each one represents a virtual automatic contract. If we can successfully implement our product for these agencies, we could go after bigger game: namely the Department of Homeland Security and the military.”

“I’m impressed, Alton. You have my permission to remain in the DC area and sign as many contracts as you can. Just make sure we can deliver what we promise.”

“Absolutely,” said Alton. “Sir, one other thought…”

“Yes?”

“Depending on the success of this project, we may have an ongoing need to staff a satellite office here in the Washington area. If we could sign up a mere twenty percent of federal agencies to use our software, the new revenue would dwarf our current income. This town seems to thrive on face-to-face lobbying, so having an office here would help us attract new federal customers and deliver a better, faster product to our current customers through regular, in-person meetings.”

“This doesn’t have anything to do with your girlfriend living there, does it?”

Alton could hear the smile in Hines’ voice. “Sir, I freely admit that I’d love to live in the same city as Mallory. I leave it to you to assess the merits of my suggestion from a strictly business perspective. Having personally experienced the advantages of in-person meetings, I’d be remiss if I didn’t raise the idea. The IT infrastructure in this town is mind-boggling, and we’ve barely scratched the surface.”

“Thanks, Alton. You’ve certainly given me something to think about. Regarding your current schedule, as long as you’re meeting your Kruptos commitments—which I have no doubt of your doing—you’re free to stay in the DC area until your investigation is complete.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Alton called Mallory, who was already on her way to Serenity Hospice. “Well, I got Mr. Hines’ okay to stay here for a few more days.”

“That’s great.”

“Yep. And with the paperwork I picked up from Wiggins yesterday, I’ll start working on the investigation this afternoon.”

“Okay. I’ll tell Nancy you’ll be here later. She can let her staff know.”

“Perfect.”

Although Alton didn’t know how much stock to put in the suggestion of sinister patient deaths, he had promised to investigate the possibility and was determined to conduct a thorough review.

At five o’clock that afternoon, Alton strode through the main entrance of Serenity Hospice and set about questioning each of the staff members who had provided care for the patients whose deaths were under investigation.

Eventually, Alton spoke with Jeanette Abernathy, the nurse who had tended to hospice patient Ralph Thrash. As the interview began, Jeanette seemed quite agitated, a condition Alton chalked up to being questioned by an adjunct of the FBI. However, once she learned that Alton’s questions pertained to patient deaths, Jeanette visibly relaxed and became quite chatty.

“Yeah, the doctors were all pretty surprised about Mr. Thrash,” she said. “He was only here for respite care and was expected to live for at least a few more months. Plus, he had colon cancer but didn’t die from it. His cause of death was an MI—a heart attack.”

“And that’s unusual?”

“Well, honestly, a lot of times at the hospice, a patient’s outcome doesn’t follow the path the doctors expect. Even so, you can judge which kinds of change in a patient’s condition fall within normal bounds and which ones don’t.”

“Kind of like a range of expected outcomes?” asked Alton.

“Yes, exactly. Mr. Thrash’s death—so sudden and from such unexpected causes—falls outside of that range, in my opinion.” More to herself than to Alton, she added, “Hmm…Randy was saying the same thing the other day about that Janice Kell patient in the hospital.”

“Randy?”

“Oh. That’s…uh…my husband.”

“And he works in a hospital?” asked Alton.

“Yeah, he works as an orderly over at Stokely Memorial, our sister hospital,” said Jeanette, avoiding eye contact. “He told me about a similar case over there. Last week, a patient died unexpectedly and from different causes from what she was admitted for. But Randy wouldn’t know anything about the details.”

“I see,” said Alton. “It sounds like I’ll need to reach out to William Cline, then.”

Jeanette relaxed. “Yep, Mr. Cline would be the right person to talk to.”

Alton traveled to Stokely Memorial Hospital. Although he planned to speak with William Cline later, his curiosity had been aroused by Jeanette’s reluctant manner. Did Randy possess some information about a patient death? If so, did Jeanette want to avoid getting mixed up in the investigation? Alton decided to speak with Randy about the details of the Janice Kell case before Jeanette thought to warn him.

Alton caught Scrubs just as the orderly was preparing to leave. From the scar on the employee’s cheek, Alton recognized him as the orderly who had briefly attended to Jacob Dunlow.

“Randy Abernathy?”

“Yeah. Most people just call me Scrubs. Who are you?” At first, Alton was surprised at the man’s wide eyes, but he quickly reconsidered. Perhaps Jeanette had called already, telling her husband an FBI consultant might be on the way. That would be enough to rattle most people.

“My name is Alton Blackwell, and I’m working with the FBI on a case.” Randy’s eyes widened even further, a feat Alton would not have thought possible. “I’m investigating some recent patient deaths, and your wife told me you might have some information regarding the death of a patient named Janice Kell. Did she tell you I was on the way?”

“Naw—she didn’t say nothing.” Like his wife, Scrubs’ demeanor relaxed once he learned of the topic of Alton’s inquiry.

Alton extended his hand and gave Scrubs a firm handshake. “Say, that’s a nasty scrape on your cheek. Have you had it looked at?”

“Yeah—my wife’s a nurse. She fixed it all up.”

“What happened, if you don’t mind my asking?”

Scrubs’ eyes darted back and forth for a split second, then his countenance relaxed. “I was pruning a big old tree in my back yard. The branch I was cutting fell right towards me and smacked me in the face.”

“That must have been one heck of a limb to scratch you like that.”

“It was, man. That thing was huge. When it fell, it knocked my ladder over, too.”

Alton shook his head. “I’m glad to see you made it through in one piece.”

“Yeah. Me, too,” said Scrubs. “So, what did you wanna know about that patient who died?”

“Your wife stated that Miss Kell was admitted for one condition but died from something else. Can you tell me what you observed about her and her treatment?”

“Honestly, Mr.…Blackwell, was it? I just heard the other orderlies talking about it. I never seen the patient myself.”

“Hmmm,” mused Alton, chalking up Scrubs’ information to the hospital rumor mill. “Do you know who I can speak with to obtain more details about this case?”

“There’s federal regulations on giving away patient records. You’ll probably have to talk with Mr. Cline to get that kinda information.”

“Great, I will,” said Alton. “Thanks for your time, Mr. Abernathy.”

“No problem, man. I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

Alton presented his certificate of FBI authority to William Cline and explained the purpose of his visit.

“Why are you investigating this?” asked the administrator with a frown. “Where would you get the notion that patients are dying suspiciously?”

“Nancy Goins voiced a concern,” replied Alton. He noticed a grimace cross Cline’s face. “Does that surprise you?”

“Well, yes—frankly, it does. Nancy’s a good manager, but I am surprised she didn’t come to me first instead of going directly to the FBI.”

“Do you have a problem with her approach?”

“Um…no. It’s just that I would have preferred to have not been caught off guard.”

“I see. Well, as I understand it, Nancy told Mallory—Agent Wilson, I should say—that she didn’t quite know who to tell. When an FBI agent appeared in Nancy’s office, it seemed like the right time to speak, according to Nancy.”

“Yes, well…Nancy doesn’t have to worry about Serenity’s operating profit. I do.”

Alton stared directly at the hospital administrator. “Mr. Cline, I don’t see how this investigation has anything to do with profitability. It concerns the safety and health of your patients. Isn’t that the reason your company exists?”

“Yes, of course. But if we don’t turn a profit, eventually we’d close our doors, and then what would happen to the health of our patients? This whole part of town would be underserviced for healthcare.”

“I see. Let’s talk about Janice Kell, shall we?”

Cline pulled the patient’s chart and read off the records of her underlying condition as well as her sudden and unexpected demise in the hospital.

“When was the last time Miss Kell was observed convalescing normally?” asked Alton.

“Um…let’s see,” replied Cline, scanning an array of data on his computer monitor. “The chart says five-fifteen.”

“And when was she discovered unresponsive?”

“Ten past six. By the way…she wasn’t merely unresponsive. She was dead.”

“So you’re saying that in the space of fifty-five minutes,” asked Alton, “a stabilized patient in the hospital for colectomy surgery died inexplicably?”

“Yes, that’s the long and short of it.”

“Can you tell me how many other patients in the last few months have experienced a similar type of idiosyncratic death?”