My gut told me that wasn’t the whole story. Granted, Creekview was a nursing home, and most of the residents had some form of advanced ailment that would kill them. However, Ms. Carlita was relatively healthy. She was paralyzed from the waist down and, in her late seventies, didn’t have a family to help take care of her, which was how she ended up in the nursing home.
She was one of many residents I noticed that were there one day and gone the next. Something was wrong. And I was determined to find out what it was.
* * *
A half an hour later,I exited Ms. Anderson’s room, as she’d fallen asleep for the night. The nurses’ station sat empty. That, unfortunately, wasn’t an uncommon occurrence. The nursing home was understaffed compared to the number of residents living there.
Instead of signing out in the volunteer book, on my way out, I peeked over the counter. A few binders sat on the counter, closed. I glanced down the hallway behind me and to the right and left before leaning over and opening the dark-blue binder.
I didn’t know what I was looking for, but maybe I could find the proof that Micah Townsend asked for earlier.
“I’ll be right back,” one of the nurses called from down the hallway.
I closed the binder and scribbled my name and the time in the volunteer binder before darting around the far corner of the nurses’ station. From that angle, the approaching nurse couldn’t see me. Looking over my shoulder, I spotted the closed door that led to the offices of the executive wing of the nursing home. I also knew that the home’s full-time doctor had an office in that hallway.
I walked lightly toward the door, peering behind to make sure no one saw me. When I came to the door, the knob turned, allowing me down a hallway I’d never ventured into until that night.
Every door I passed after that was locked, though. I hit dead end after dead end. That is, until I came to the door that read Dr. Roger Pines.
Dr. Pines’s office door opened, and I held my breath as I slipped inside and shut it behind me. I reached for the light switch on the wall but thought better of it. Turning on the light probably wasn’t the best decision since I had no business in that office in the first place.
With a sweep of my gaze, I noted metal file cabinets that lined the left side of the office. Dr. Pines locked the cabinets, leaving me to go over to his desk and search it.
“He’s not going to have illegal paperwork right here on the desk, Reese,” I told myself.
But, as those words fell from my mouth, I spotted a manila folder with a name on it.
‘Carlita Johnson.’
Ms. Anderson’s former roommate.
I flipped the folder open and scanned the paper. On the report asking for the resident’s status, I expected to seedeceased.Instead, the form readtransferred.
“That’s not right,” I murmured. I read the rest of the paper, indicating that Creekview transferred Ms. Carlita to another nursing home.
Why was I told that she had passed away? That warning alarm in my gut increased. This wasn’t right. I rummaged through my handbag and pulled out my cell phone to snap a picture of the paper. I swallowed the fear and guilt that formed a lump in my throat.
As a medical receptionist, I knew the harm of violating patients’ private medical information. But this had to prove something. I took pictures of all of the papers, including the name of the nursing home where Ms. Carlita was allegedly transferred to. I closed the folder and looked for more files, but a noise outside the door stopped me.
I froze in place, not moving an inch. I held my breath and peered toward the door. My heartbeat pounded in my ears as I tried to remain as still as possible.
After a few seconds of not hearing anything, I went to tuck my phone back in my bag. My fingers continued to tremble, and right after I managed to get the shot, my sweaty, shaky fingers dropped my phone.
Shit.
The smack of my phone against the hardwood floors felt like it bounced off the walls and reverberated out into the hallway. I bent and snatched my phone from the floor and cursed again when I saw the cracked screen.
It still functioned, and I blew out a breath. I stuffed my phone back in my bag and put everything back the way I found it before heading to the door. Before exiting, I pressed my ear to the door to listen for anyone outside.
When I heard nothing, I exited and turned to close the door as quietly as possible. A sigh of relief expelled from my mouth when I sealed the door, and I started toward the main exit.
“Oh,” I blurted out not even a second later when I bumped directly into Dr. Pines.
He narrowed his eyes on me. “What are you doing down here?” He demanded.
My eyes darted around the hallways. “I’m so sorry. I thought this was the bathroom.” I mentally patted myself on the back for coming up with the lie so quickly.
But I ended the mental celebration when his pinched face didn’t soften. Dr. Pines had worked at Creekview for years. I knew him from interactions when my nana was a resident there. He probably realized that I knew where the visitor bathroom was.
