Off the Record

by Jill Elizabeth Nelson

  A ripping sound met Kate’s ears.

  “Here,” Rita said. “It’s from the bottom of my shirt. Stuff this in her mouth.”

  The hand left Kate’s face, and she gulped a deep breath, only to nearly swallow a wad of cloth. Her head spun, and she was shoved into the chair. Had the red button worked? Was Skip on his way?

  “Okay, I can handle it from here.” Hancock said to Rita as he glowered down at Kate. He gripped her wrists in one fist and a wad of cords in the other. His eyes glittered at her in the eerie light. Did he mean to do something more permanent than tie her up? Chills shimmered through Kate’s body.

  Hancock glanced over his shoulder at his accomplice. “Go get the keys from the boss and bring the car up.”

  Someone else was in on this deal? Kate fought to spit the rag from her mouth, but it wasn’t an easy task with it stuffed so far in.

  “On my way.” Rita turned and reached for the doorknob, but it rattled, then turned and sprang open before she could touch it.

  Light flooded in. Kate blinked.

  Releasing a guttural growl, Hancock charged the young deputy and another man behind him, who blocked the doorway. Skip stood his ground, and the two collided with a whumph.

  “Hey, what?” Paul’s shout carried to Kate as Rita darted past the struggling pair. He caught the woman and wrestled her squealing form to the floor.

  With her hands free, Kate ripped the rag from her mouth and jumped up. The bulky Hancock was getting the better of wiry Skip Spencer. The handcuffs on the deputy’s belt flapped back and forth as they wrestled on the floor. Kate grabbed them, snagged one of Hancock’s wrists, slapped on the cuff, then fastened it to an exposed pipe on the wall.

  “Th-thanks, Mrs. Hanlon,” Skip puffed and rose to his feet while Hancock spurted foul language and jerked at the cuffs that tethered him in place.

  “My pleasure.” Kate surveyed the scene.

  Her husband held a sheet-pale Rita securely, but shoulders slumped, she didn’t look inclined to fight.

  “Are you all right, hon?” Paul’s complexion had gone nearly as white as his captive’s.

  “I’m fine.” Kate nodded and pressed a hand to her stressed ribs. They felt intact. “Thank goodness, the black box worked.”

  “It did.” Skip nodded. “But we were already looking for you.”

  Paul expelled a long breath. “You left your paperwork on a chair and disappeared. I about went out of my mind before the box beeped Skip’s cell.”

  “You two have got your hands full.” Kate looked from one rescuer to the other. “I hate to tell you, but there’s another conspirator on the loose, and I finally figured out who it is.”

  She turned to the gym and saw Arletta Walner loitering in the hallway, wide-eyed, holding the closet key.

  “I hardly expected to have world-class wrestling in my gym closet.” The school principal fanned her hand in front of her face.

  Kate gripped the woman’s arm. “Call the sheriff immediately. The action isn’t over yet.”

  As Arletta scurried off, Kate marched into the gymnasium and stared around the room. Where was that sneaky snake? Her gaze passed over Margo Meyers and Nurse Pritchard. At the far end of the room, Bill Shakey sat alone behind his table, but her eyes didn’t linger on him. Then Kate spotted her quarry emerging from a privacy booth a quarter of the way down the gym.

  Peggy’s voice rang in Kate’s head...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.

  They did that all right...with the full knowledge and blessing of their boss, the person who took charge of these blood drives around two years ago when the surge in medical errors started to happen. Paul gave blood at the last Pine Ridge drive, and now he was getting bills that weren’t his. Kate would ask Loretta later, but dollars to donuts, the diner owner gave in Pine Ridge too. All the pieces fit. She’d found the common denominator. Peggy Brower, saintly public servant only concerned with saving lives. Hah!

  Kate strode toward the blood-drive supervisor. Something about the intensity of her stare must have alerted the woman, because she turned and met Kate’s gaze. The woman paled and backed away, then turned and speed-walked toward the nearest exit.

  “Oh no, you don’t,” Kate muttered under her breath and took off after her, dodging around beds and medical equipment and startled workers and donors.

  With a white-faced glance over her shoulder, Peggy disappeared out a heavy metal door. Moments later, Kate hit the door practically running. Painful impact flowed through her shoulder as she turned the knob and burst out into the fresh air and sunshine. The red-brick siding of the L-shaped school building flanked her to the left and behind. Ahead lay the parking lot.

  Halfway up the sidewalk, Renee had Peggy by the arm, chattering away, with Kisses cuddled to her chest. Jaw clenched, Kate trotted toward them.

  “I’ll be right back to my duties,” she heard Renee tell Peggy, “as soon as I drop Kisses off for his spa appointment.”

  The Red Cross supervisor snarled some response, wrenched away, and continued her escape.

  Kate charged past Renee’s astonished glare. A sharp yip caught her ear, and Kisses darted ahead of her, tiny legs a blur of motion. High-pitched barks filled the air. Ahead, Peggy stumbled but didn’t fall. Growling, the little dog latched on to her pants leg. The fleeing woman continued to lurch forward, swinging her leg back and forth, while Kisses clung like a bulldog in the wrong body.

  “Oh, my Little Umpkins!” Renee screeched. “He’ll be hurt!”

  Shoe clacks on the cement said the older woman was racing on Kate’s heels. Peggy maintained the lead, but not by much. The woman veered onto the grass, cutting a corner and heading toward a section of the parking lot where the Red Cross truck and several other staff vehicles stood.

  Kate changed course with the culprit. She could not let the mastermind of the medical-records scheme reach her car.

  They approached the edge of the building, and Loretta, carrying a tray, strode around the corner straight into Peggy’s path. The two collided. Cookies and bars flew everywhere, raining down on them all, as Peggy and the diner owner collapsed in a heap.

  Kate skidded to a halt and stared down at the pair on the ground. A yelping Loretta, expression like an amazed ostrich, sat squarely on top of a gasping Peggy. Renee hopped from foot to foot, still screeching about her dog, while Kisses ran rings around them all, barking like a crazed windup toy. Suddenly, the little dog stopped and began munching a cookie. His master scooped him up, cooing and crying.

  “What’s going on out here?” Joe’s voice demanded.

  Kate pointed to Peggy Brower, who was attempting to wiggle out from under Loretta as she struggled to stand up. “This is the woman in charge of a medical-records-identity-theft ring. The sheriff will want to arrest her.”

  “I ain’t got a clue what kinda crime that is, but I can sure do this.” Joe grabbed Peggy by the arm, untangled her from Loretta, and pulled her to her feet. “Miz Brower, I’m placin’ you under citizen’s arrest until the arrival of the proper authority. And here he comes now, but it looks like he’s got his hands full. Your husband too, Kate.” He pointed his walking stick toward a door kitty-corner to the one they’d emerged from.

  Deputy Spencer half walked, half dragged a handcuffed Stephen Hancock up the sidewalk toward the squad car at the curb. Rita staggered behind them, as if dazed, in Paul’s grip. A cross between a snarl and a whimper left Peggy’s throat.

  Kate bent and gave Loretta a hand to help her to her feet.

  The diner owner shook herself, brushed crumbs and grass from her clothes, then poked a bony finger in Peggy’s face. “You’re the culprit that nearly cost me my business with your monkeyshines?”

  The Red Cross supervisor glared straight ahead. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “I’m sure the evidence will say otherwise.” Kate picked a piece of Rice Krispie
s bar out of her hair. “We found the doctor who did surgery on the woman who used Shirley Kraemer’s medical record. I’m sure that person will be glad to make a deal to testify against the ones who sold the record.” She looked toward Joe. “We should get her to the deputy’s car, along with her accomplices.”

  “I should say so!” Renee puffed between bestowing kisses on her little pet’s head. The dog was panting, but Kate could swear he wore a grin on his face.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Noisy confusion reigned inside the elementary-school gym. People stood in little knots, staring around and speculating on what had just happened. With Paul beside her, Kate beelined for Bill Shakey. Halfway to his table, Livvy grabbed her arm.

  “Is it true?” Her nostrils flared. “Was someone really stealing our identities at this blood drive?”

  “I wish I could deny it.” Kate sighed.

  One side of Livvy’s mouth crept upward. “And I suppose you nabbed the culprit red-handed.”

  “True again,” Paul inserted. “Culprits, to be exact. Peggy Brower, her niece, and the niece’s boyfriend.”

  Livvy’s jaw dropped. “Not Nurse Pritchard or that medical-records director?”

  “Nope. They’re in the clear. I’ll fill you in later. I promise.” Kate gripped her friend’s shoulder. “I’ve got to see the only person who might bring some order out of this chaos.”

  She continued in Bill’s direction and found him striding toward her. They met not far from his table.

  “What’s going on?” His brows lowered.

  “Arletta, the school principal, is bringing a cordless microphone to your table. When she arrives, could you address the people and explain what just happened?”

  “Only if you explain it to me first.”

  Kate, with Paul’s help, filled him in on the capture of the thieves and their method of stealing medical records. Bill caught right on to the situation as she knew he would.

  “Get me that mic,” he said just as Arletta arrived with the equipment.

  “We’ll leave it to you now,” Kate told him. “Until the sheriff gets here, Paul and I are going to make sure no one messes around in that supply closet where we caught Rita and Stephen.”

  They returned to the other end of the gym and shooed a few loiterers away from the storage area.

  Kate twined her hand with her husband’s. “Rita said something strange after Stephen dragged me into that closet. ‘Not another snooper.’ Could that mean Carla was poking around trying to clear her name and fell afoul of these people?” She gazed up into his eyes.

  Paul frowned. “I don’t know, honey. Maybe. I’m just so thankful you’re all right. When I think what could have—” He swallowed visibly.

  Kate squeezed his hand as Bill called for everyone’s attention. Gradually, the room quieted.

  “My name is Bill Shakey,” he said. “I represent the Tennessee Citizens Privacy Association based in Chattanooga. I know you are full of questions about what happened here today, and I intend to do my best to offer you some answers. But first of all, I want you to understand that this incident is not a reflection on the Red Cross as an outstanding service organization or on blood drives. What occurred here today is by far the exception, and we can be thankful that vigilant people have halted the dishonest actions of a few.”

  Then he began to explain in clear detail about medical-record identity theft. People drifted his direction in clumps and streams. Then he invited everyone to take the material he offered at his table. No one needed to be asked twice. A flood surged around him.

  Kate smiled. “I don’t think he’ll be taking any of those fliers back to the office.”

  An outside door opened, admitting sunshine and fresh air, and Sheriff Roberts stepped inside. He was trailed by a pair of technicians toting rectangular cases.

  The sheriff strode up to Paul and Kate, a fierce gleam in his eyes. “Kate, you’ve dug up a mess that’s going to take months, maybe even years, to sort out.” His glower held a twinkle as he offered his hand. “Good job.” Kate clasped it, and then he shook hands with Paul.

  “You may want to ask your new prisoners if they know where Carla Trexler is,” Kate said. “The last time I talked to her, she said she was going to interview everyone who was on duty the day she administered the Vicodin to Mrs. Kraemer, and Stephen and Rita were among them.”

  The sheriff narrowed his eyes. “Brower and Hancock are a pair of real badgers. I stopped by the jail before I came over here. Hancock’s got a lingo that would peel paint, and Brower’s spouting her innocence and hollering for a lawyer. Their little accomplice doesn’t say a word, just sits there and cries.”

  Kate swallowed a bitter lump from her throat. That didn’t sound promising for finding Carla, if these skunks had her somewhere. “I was doing some Internet research one day,” she told the sheriff, “and discovered that there’s a Stephen Hancock who lives in the Tennessee mountains and writes an antiestablishment, back-to-nature blog.”

  The sheriff snorted. “Sounds like some of the slop our boy’s been spouting from his suite in the local lockup. In fact”—he stroked his chin—“he did say something about exposing us fascist pigs to his faithful readers.” He wagged a finger. “I’ll go out to the unit and radio Skip to track down directions to Hancock’s place. We’ve got more than enough reason to do a search.”

  Kate exhaled a thankful breath as Paul squeezed her arm and nodded. “Oh, would you, Sheriff?” she said. “That would be terrific.”

  They followed Sheriff Roberts out to his vehicle and waited on the sidewalk. Kate shifted her weight from one foot to the other, and Paul ran his fingers through his hair and fidgeted with his shirt buttons.

  Finally the sheriff emerged from his unit wearing a smug smile. “Our boy lives halfway between here and Chattanooga in the middle of nowhere, right on the edge of my jurisdiction. Skip’s rustling up a warrant via fax, so I can pick it up at his office, then head out.”

  Kate clasped her hands together. “May we come along? I need to know if Carla is all right.”

  Sheriff Roberts pursed his lips, brows drawn together. “Could be she’s not out there, but if she is, we don’t have any idea what shape she’ll be in. I don’t know if—”

  “And I don’t know if I can stand the wait!” Kate beseeched the sheriff.

  Sheriff Roberts’ gaze shifted to Paul, who laid a hand on Kate’s shoulder. “I’m with Kate. Having another woman along for Carla’s sake if she’s all right, and having a pastor along for whatever we find, can’t be a bad thing.”

  “You have a point.” The sheriff nodded. “Get in.”

  Kate climbed into the vehicle, followed by her husband. She grabbed his hand and squeezed it. “Carla’s got to be there,” she murmured to him. “Stephen’s secluded hideaway would be the perfect place to keep someone prisoner or...” She swallowed, unable to finish the sentence.

  The unspoken words rang between them.

  Or hide a body.

  THE MILES PASSED beneath the tires as if they were on a treadmill going nowhere. Yet as Kate leaned forward from time to time and watched the sheriff’s speedometer, she saw that he pushed the vehicle to the limits of good sense on the hills and curves. Her prayers were heartfelt but silent. Beside her in the backseat, Paul squeezed her hand. He must be praying too.

  The sheriff glanced over his shoulder at his passengers. “After you got that threatening letter, Kate, I had Skip do a little research on this Hancock fellow. He had a general discharge from the army, which can indicate there was a problem, such as drug use, but too much trouble to court-martial.”

  Paul nodded. “That information fits the picture we’ve gotten of this guy.” He turned toward Kate. “You told me he was good with computers, so I figure he must be the one who deleted the Vicodin prescription from the system at Orchard Hill. But why didn’t he fix the rest of the chart while he was at it?”

  Kate sighed and shook her head. “When a record becomes muddied with data
from more than one patient, it’s almost impossible for a person who’s not the patient or a family member to tell what pieces of information don’t belong.” She rubbed a tense hand along her pants leg. “The best Stephen could do was delete the immediate problem—the Vicodin prescription—and hope the blame stayed on Carla. Then there would be no examination of the record, and the theft would remain undiscovered—at least for a while.”

  The sheriff let out a thoughtful hum. “What I don’t get is why this outfit started taking patient records from Orchard Hill when they had a great, and nearly untraceable, racket going with the blood drives.”

  “Something Rita said gave me the heads-up on that one,” Kate answered. “She scolded Stephen for snitching a record from the assisted-living facility to support his drug habit. Evidently, that theft wasn’t part of the plan.”

  Paul grinned. “And it ended up getting them caught.”

  The sheriff snorted a chuckle. “Because of one nosy lady who couldn’t stop asking questions.”

  Kate looked down and twined her fingers together in her lap. Now if only the whole episode could have a happy ending with finding Carla alive.

  Finally they came to a turnoff on a narrow, shoulderless county road. Sheriff Roberts slowed the pace on the winding strip of cracked and pitted pavement. The forest loomed large on either side, reducing sunlight to a thin strip dividing the shadows.

  “There!” She pointed to a dirt track to the right. “This must be it.”

  The sheriff turned the vehicle. Overgrown trees closed the gap above and plunged them into twilight. Moments later, they burst into a clearing in front of a clapboard house that was little bigger than a cabin with small, grimy windows and cracked and faded beige paint. Sheriff Roberts skidded his SUV to a halt in a spray of dust.

  He turned with an arm across the back of the seat and stared at his passengers. “I’ll take the house. If you two want to poke around the yard and the grove, you’re welcome. Call me if you find something, but don’t touch anything that could be evidence.”