“Excuse me?” a female’s voice asked.
I blinked, remembering I was on the phone. “Who is this?”
“This is Charlotte Rowe, the reporter from the Texas Gazette.”
I thought back to where I had heard that name before as I kicked off my shoes beside the door. I tore off the light jacket I had on and tossed it over the arm of my couch before moving to Henry’s cage to let him out.
“Sorry, boy.” I petted his head in greeting and turned for the kitchen. He followed.
“The Texas Gazette,” I murmured. “Oh.” I snapped with my free hand. “You wrote that nursing home article, right?”
“Yes, the one you contacted me about months ago.”
I nodded, recalling that I came across this woman’s article online, entirely at random. An internet search for a different nursing home brought up her article. My basic internet search brought up Charlotte Rowe’s piece on financial discrepancies in nursing homes across the state. It was less than three hundred words, but it mentioned the name of the nursing facility I’d been looking up.
“Right.”
“You said something was happening to the residents where you work?”
“Volunteer,” I corrected.
“Sorry. I’ve been pulling double duty at the paper, and as you can tell, I’m months behind catching up on emails.”
I listened as I fixed Henry’s applesauce and dry food. He sauntered over to his food bowls once I stepped out of the way and began eating.
“In your email, you said you believed something strange was happening at Creekview?”
“Yes.” I stopped, wondering how much I should tell this woman. I contacted her long before I went to LS Investigations with my concerns. Chael had told me repeatedly to contact him with any new information or if I had any questions.
He called or texted me nearly every evening with minor updates. It’d been a week since our initial phone conversation.
“Um, well, I’ve reached out to a private investigation firm to look into the situation at Creekview,” I told Charlotte.
“Do you suspect something detrimental is happening to the residents?” Concern laced her question.
“Yes… no. Possibly.” I blew out a breath and pushed my locs over my shoulder. I pulled one of the strands between my fingers and looked at the frayed edge of the white yarn. It was time to take them out and put my hair in a different protective style.
“Maybe I should give you the information for the PI firm. I haven’t come across any new information.” The instinct to withhold the details in the report that I found on Dr. Pines’s desk flared up. Charlotte Rowe sounded like a decent enough person, and the article she wrote did highlight some questionable occurrences happening at nursing homes around the state.
“Sure, what’s their name?”
“LS Investigations.”
“Oh,” she breathed out. “They’re one of the best in the state.”
“I’ve been told.”
“In that case, I’m sure they’re doing a bang-up job on this case. Who’s the investigator you’re working with?”
Again, I held back. A sound from the kitchen startled me. “Ms. Rowe, I have to go. I’ll save your number and get back to you.”
Without a second thought, I hung up and ran up the hall to the kitchen. “Henry.” I clapped my hands, catching him red-handed. “Get out of the wastebasket.” He had knocked the trash over and was rummaging through it.
“What have I told you about trying to eat chocolate?” I fussed at him as I gathered the tattered papers and wrappers he managed to shred. Tying up the bag, I exchanged it for a new trash bag in the wastebasket.
“You stay right there while I go throw this out,” I told him. He dared to duck his head in shame. With a roll of my eyes, I approached and bent low, kissing the top of his massive head.
Like I could ever stay mad at him. “I just don’t want you to get sick, buddy.” I scratched underneath his jaw and then went to the front door. “Stay,” I commanded when he tried to follow. “No walk tonight. I’m just throwing this out.”
