Off the Record

by Jill Elizabeth Nelson

  “I’m on it.” Paul waved toward Kate and strode off with his broad-shouldered friend.

  Joe leaned on his cane, eagle-eyed gaze scanning the area.

  “Yoo-hoo!”

  Kate turned toward Renee with a smile. “Things are shaping up very nicely.”

  “The word got around that Renee Lambert had something going on, so of course they showed up to help.” She lifted her chin.

  “I invited some folks too.” Joe scowled.

  Renee sniffed.

  Kate stepped between them. “I can see the layout is going to be both functional and attractive.”

  Joe snorted. “I thought Renee had flipped her ever-lovin’ wig when she suggested plants and such. Best not to have unnecessary organic matter around a blood drive, but them fake ones look almost real.”

  Kate turned wide eyes on Renee. “You fooled me, all right.”

  The older woman brushed imaginary lint from the sleeve of her pink blouse. “Besides lending out my own, I collected from friends who were only too happy to have us use them for one day.”

  “Say there!” Joe burst out, glaring toward a pair of volunteers. “That table needs to go on the other side.” He waved his walking stick in the proper direction. “Best get back into the thick of things.” He nodded to the women and tottered off.

  “The old curmudgeon does know how to get things done.” Renee pursed her lips. “But I assure you, I have never worn a wig in my life, much less flipped one.”

  Kate laughed. “I didn’t think you had.”

  “Certainly not!” Renee giggled. “I’ve always been the epitome of good sense.”

  Kate took a long look at the woman in pink. Had the town diva just laughed at herself? Renee adjusted the brooch on her shoulder and the bangles on her wrist while she surveyed her domain. No, Kate shook her head. She was imagining things.

  “For example”—Renee rubbed her hands together—“who else would be the logical choice to provide the postdonation sustenance than Loretta Sweet? The diner is donating sandwiches, cookies, and juice.”

  “Very generous of Loretta. Would you show me where you want Bill Shakey tomorrow? I could get his area set up.”

  Renee motioned for her to follow as she headed across the gym, which formed its own wing perpendicular to the rest of the building. “We have to keep him out of the regular donor loop. Peggy was very clear about that. So I’ve decided on a spot near the snack café, where people will be stationary for a while. I’d like you to help serve in that area tomorrow.”

  “Sounds good.” Kate waved at Livvy, who was pushing a cart laden with refrigerator chests toward the middle of the room. Her friend grinned back. Then Kate hustled to catch up with Renee’s brisk pace. “Peggy wasn’t excited about having someone from the TCPA here?”

  “She seemed a bit put out at first about taking up space with something not directly drive related. And she was concerned about impeding the donor flow.”

  “I can understand those concerns.”

  “But I told her there was plenty of spare footage in a gym.” The woman fluttered her fingers. “And when I showed her my grand plan for the layout, she settled down and agreed that sharing knowledge is a wonderful thing.”

  “Good.” Kate took a full breath. “I wouldn’t want to offend someone so dedicated to saving lives.”

  “Here we are, then.” They had arrived at a large rectangle of indoor-outdoor carpet with rows of round tables filling the space. People were setting padded chairs around the tables. “This is our quaint little café. You can put up a table for Mr. Shakey anywhere you like along the perimeter. And please use a cloth.” She pointed toward a stack of ivory linen at the end of one of the tables. “I don’t want the ambience destroyed by a naked table.”

  “No problem,” Kate answered.

  “Toodles, then. As Joe might say, it’s back into the trenches.” The woman double-timed toward a crew that was putting together the PVC piping for a curtained privacy booth along the perimeter of the donor section.

  Kate quickly found a table, neatly folded and resting lonely and forlorn against a set of bleachers. She erected it on the edge of the carpeted space, then covered it with a cloth and set a chair up to it. Nice, but maybe one more touch to draw attention. She surveyed her choices among the potted plants and trees. The peppermint-flowered peach tree would do nicely alongside the table.

  She headed in that direction, then stopped at the sound of a familiar voice. Peggy was there? She hadn’t seen the blood-drive coordinator before this because she was nearly hidden behind a stack of equipment in metal cases.

  Kate changed her direction. “Hi, Peggy. I didn’t really suppose we could set up this shindig without you.”

  The woman laughed, blue gaze twinkling. “I’ve never considered myself indispensable, but I am rather fussy about my donation sites.”

  “I would wonder about you if you weren’t,” Kate answered with a smile.

  One of the Red Cross personnel shot Peggy a question, and she answered, then turned back toward Kate. “Do you see that bank of equipment on the table there? Each of them has several cords all wound up and twist-tied. If you’d go over and untie each set so they’re loose, my niece’s computer-genius boyfriend is coming in later tonight to make sure all the equipment and computers are hooked up and operating properly.”

  “I think I can manage to unwind a few cords without electrocuting myself.”

  They shared a chuckle.

  Peggy cocked her head. “You strike me as a very competent woman, Kate Hanlon.”

  “Ditto. Maybe you can answer a few questions about the drive for me.” She could be wrong, but she seemed to remember the process required sharing a lot of sensitive personal information. The thought sent a rock plummeting to the bottom of Kate’s stomach.

  “Fire away.”

  Kate shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “It’s been a number of years since I’ve donated blood, and maybe things have changed since then. Do you still require Social Security number, birth date, and all kinds of other personal information?”

  Peggy grimaced. “I’m afraid it’s all necessary to verify our donors. Each and every pint must be carefully screened and matched to a specific verifiable person.”

  “I figured that must be the reason. It’s just...” Kate rubbed the end of her chin. “Well, with all you hear about identity theft, a person can hardly be too careful about giving out that kind of information.”

  “I understand your concern.” The woman placed a hand on Kate’s shoulder. “But that’s why personal information is gathered inside private booths and entered into our secure computer. In fact, I have a trained medical-records professional coming over from Chattanooga to supervise that aspect. Margo Meyers has years of experience helping with blood drives. She was volunteering on a regular basis before I came onboard.”

  Kate’s jaw dropped. “Did you say Margo Meyers?”

  “Yes. Why? Do you know her?”

  “A little. She works at Orchard Hill assisted-living facility, where a friend of ours lives.”

  “Then you’ll be a familiar face for her tomorrow.”

  Someone called to Peggy, who smiled and nodded toward Kate, then hustled off to the next spot where she was needed. Kate’s stomach hung somewhere around her toes. If Margo Meyers was behind the medical-record thefts, then a blood drive would be a great place to steal enough information about people to locate and pilfer files from a medical system. And according to Peggy, the woman was a regular volunteer at these events. Everybody attending the drive the next day could be at risk.

  “ALL THIS BUSINESS about medical-record theft must be making me paranoid,” Kate said to Paul as they climbed into his pickup to head for home.

  Her husband cast a questioning glance from the driver’s seat. “Why do you say that?”

  “Now I’m seeing the blood drive as an opportunity for identity thieves to strike.”

  He didn’t answer immediately, so Kate che
cked his expression for signs of amusement. She found his face sober, gaze intent on guiding the car out of the parking lot.

  “We’re required to give personal-identification information when we go through the process,” he finally said as he headed onto the street. “And it would be bad for that to fall into the wrong hands. But I don’t see how the Red Cross can get around asking for the confidential details in order to make sure the blood is from safe donors.” He pulled up at a stop sign. “They must have safeguards in place to make sure people’s personal information is secure.”

  Kate shifted in her seat. “I’m sure they do. But what if the fox is guarding the henhouse?”

  “Meaning...”

  “Margo Meyers is in charge of data collection and storage at the event.”

  “Yikes!”

  “I second that motion, but I can’t accuse a woman on circumstances, or say anything to the droves of donors who plan to show up tomorrow. My lips are virtually sealed, but my internal panic button is going bonkers.”

  Thoughtful silence fell. A few minutes later, he stopped the vehicle in their garage and angled himself toward her. “Skip Spencer already knows your suspicions about Ms. Meyers.”

  “Yes, and he was going to tell the sheriff.” Kate hissed in a breath. “Do you suppose Sheriff Roberts would give Skip the go-ahead to hang around the drive tomorrow?”

  “Can’t hurt to ask.”

  They got out of the pickup and headed into the house. Kate went to the phone, but the ring of the doorbell halted her reach for the handset. Paul went to the door, and Kate trailed him. On the threshold stood Sheriff Roberts himself, bushy eyebrows drawn tight above his brown eyes.

  Paul motioned him into the foyer. “Do you have some news for us about the letter Kate got?”

  The man shook his head. “Too soon.” He rubbed a hand across his round belly. “I’ve been asked by the Chattanooga Police Department to question Kate about the disappearance of Carla Trexler.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Carla’s still gone?” Kate pressed a palm to her chest.

  “You knew about this?” The sheriff’s eyes narrowed. “How come you seem to have a line on these things before we do?”

  She lifted her palms. “She’s the nurse who was accused of negligence in giving Mrs. Kraemer the wrong medicine. I’ve been trying to contact her all week to let her know that this discovery about medical-records identity theft might help clear her name.”

  Sheriff Roberts grunted and frowned. “Ms. Trexler’s babysitter reported her missing several days ago when she didn’t come to pick up her kids.”

  “Oh my goodness. Where are Mandy and Ryan now?”

  The sheriff shrugged. “I didn’t ask that question. The missing woman’s apartment-building superintendent told the CPD you’d been around looking for her, so they sent me to find out what you knew.”

  “Not much. When the super told me she hadn’t seen Carla around for a while, I remember hoping she hadn’t tried to run away from her problems.”

  Paul tapped her shoulder. “What about that issue with her father?”

  “What issue?” The sheriff stepped forward.

  “I don’t know any specifics,” Kate said, “but Carla got very angry when I told her I’d discovered her father was alive after she told me he was dead.”

  Roberts crossed his arms over his brown uniform shirt. “So where is this guy?”

  “I don’t have his address, but he still lives in Carla’s hometown of McKenzie, Tennessee.”

  The sheriff jerked a nod. “Good lead. Let me know if you think of anything else.” He turned and reached for the door handle.

  “Just a second,” Paul said. “Kate and I were just discussing concerns about tomorrow’s blood drive. Margo Meyers is going to be there in charge of collecting confidential data. And in light of the threat that’s been made toward Kate, could you spare Skip to hang around the site for the day?”

  Roberts pursed his lips. “Not all day, for sure, but I’ll have him stop around fairly regularly.”

  “Thank you.” Paul nodded.

  Kate touched the sheriff’s sleeve. “And when Carla is found, could someone let me know?”

  Roberts frowned, but then he jerked a nod and left.

  Kate gazed up at her husband, chest tight and limbs heavy. “This mess just gets messier. Now a woman is missing, and her children are abandoned.”

  Kate’s spirits hung low as they got ready for bed. What did they expect Skip to see the next day anyway? If identities were being stolen at the blood drive, it would be happening in the unseen realm of cyberspace. Ms. Meyers could probably do her worst right in front of their eyes, and no one would know until it was too late.

  IN FRONT OF THE BATHROOM MIRROR, Kate applied her makeup with special care. She didn’t need to look like a raccoon for the rest of the world to see. A night of tossing and turning and disturbing dreams had left dark shadows under her eyes.

  Ten minutes later, she joined Paul in his pickup, and they headed for the elementary-school gymnasium. They drove in silence. What more was there to say? No word yet about Carla. And now they faced a long day at the blood drive. At least they’d be kept busy. She clasped and unclasped her hands in her lap. She was terrible at waiting for news under the best of circumstances, and this was hardly among them.

  Activity in the gym was muted when Kate and Paul walked in. The drive hadn’t opened yet, and so much preparation had been done the evening before that Red Cross staff and volunteers walked around at a leisurely pace, making last-minute adjustments. It was surprising how much of what had looked like a cavernous open space was now filled.

  The intake table sat to their right, flanked by glossy silk flowering plants, and a generous section of waiting chairs for donors perched to their left. Curtained privacy booths lined both sides in front of the telescoped bleachers. In the center of the room, sixteen donor beds sat parallel to each other, two by two, with a supply table at the head or feet between each set, so a nurse could take blood from two people at one time. Another area was set aside for the handling and storage of filled units in massive ice chests.

  And at the far end, elegantly covered and decorated tables waited to welcome successful donors. Soothing instrumental music from a CD player Renee had brought in carried to Kate’s ears. When the gym filled up, the sound of voices would mask the music, but it was all right for now.

  Beneath their feet, strategically placed mats softened the hardness of the faux-wood flooring. The workers would be grateful for that as the day wore on, and they had stayed on their feet for hours on end. Kate had to admit that Renee had added many thoughtful touches.

  Of course, it was impossible to make everything beautiful or convenient. Cords ran everywhere, taped to the floor, from medical equipment and computers inside the privacy booth and at the central data table. Kate’s lips thinned. There sat Margo Meyers dressed in a crisp business pantsuit. Her gaze was glued to her computer screen as she busily clacked away.

  “You’re at the intake table right here.” Kate touched Paul’s arm. “You’ll get busy before I have anything to do in the snack area. I wonder if Renee has an assignment for me in the meantime. Where is she?” Her gaze made another scan of the area, and she gasped.

  “What is it?” Her husband stared down at her.

  “Pinch me and make sure I’m not still in one of those nightmares I had last night. Am I imagining things, or is that really Nurse Carolyn Pritchard setting up supplies between one of those sets of donor beds?”

  “Unfortunately, I believe you’re wide awake and in possession of your faculties.” Paul let out a wry chuckle. “The gang’s all here.”

  She glared up at him. “What if it is a gang? And what if one or both of these people are involved?”

  “Then the truth is going to come out. Have faith.”

  Kate took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “You’re right, honey. I’m wired tighter than a banjo string. I believe I’ll go have a
talk with a nurse.”

  She wove between tables and chairs. “Hello, Nurse Pritchard.”

  The woman looked up from organizing instruments in small bins on top of a table. Her gaze was distant and impersonal, then softened with recognition.

  “Excuse me. I was lost in counting supplies. What can I do for you, Mrs. Hanlon?”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you lose track.”

  “No problem. Are you helping with the drive today?”

  “Yes. Both my husband and I.”

  “Don’t forget to take time to donate yourselves. Every pint saves lives!” The first smile Kate had ever seen from the nurse bloomed on her face. She didn’t look at all forbidding in that moment.

  “Do you help with blood drives often?”

  “Occasionally. But mostly in the suburbs around Chattanooga. I wouldn’t have come out this far except Margo recruited me for the day.” The nurse tilted her head toward the data table. “That woman is a sucker for public service.” The brief laugh that accompanied the words made them more a praise than a criticism.

  If Kate didn’t know better, in this setting, Nurse Pritchard was almost amiable. Nothing like the glowering cactus she’d encountered at Orchard Hill. “Just one more thing, and I’ll let you get back to work.”

  “All right.”

  Kate rubbed the end of her chin. “I was wondering if Carla Trexler happened to stop by to see you this week.”

  “Carla?” The woman’s gaze widened. “Why, no. Why would she?”

  “Maybe talk to you about her job...the investigation...whatever.”

  The nurse scowled, a familiar expression. “I assure you she did no such thing. Seeking out the supervisor who reported her would be highly improper in her position.”

  “That’s what I thought, but I didn’t think it would hurt to ask.”

  “Mmm.” The woman had returned to her counting.

  Oh well. The question about Carla had been a long shot, so the answer wasn’t too surprising. Kate strolled over to the data table.