•Maggie—writes story
2. Arizona
•Kathryn—Orderly
•Annie—Resident
•Maggie—checks police report
3. Internal communications
•Check Death Certificate in Maricopa County. See if there’s one for Dorothy/Dottie Carpenter in the past forty-eight hours
•Fergus—Follow the money
•Charles—
“Do you think we’ll need Avery’s people?” Annie was referring to the outside group of private investigators they would often use for surveillance.
“The facilities look to be confined. There is a security checkpoint at the main entrance, and ancillary gates are operated by using a code or a key card. Once we peel the onion and find out who is behind this scheme, we can ask Avery for some assistance if need be.”
“Excellent.” Annie continued to take notes. “I think we have a good plan. The next step is to find out who is available and get fake identities for us. We will need credit cards in our alias names, with the charges to go to the main business account.”
“Right. Fergus and I will post the new positions for Izzie, Yoko, and Kathryn on their job board,” Charles added. “Then we’ll post the jobs were filled.”
“You hacked into their system already?” Myra asked, although she was not the least surprised.
“Nothing sensitive,” Charles said. “Yet. Give us a few more days. Once Izzie arrives, she can do a work around from the inside.” He paused. “We’re also creating bank accounts for you. They will want to see copies. SOP for rentals these days. They want to be sure you can pay it.”
“Perfect,” Annie and Myra said in unison, then doubled over in laughter.
Chapter Eleven
Fitting the Pieces Together
Pensacola Hospital
Jeremy Sykes squinted, then blinked several times. His vision was still slightly blurry but much closer to normal. His left arm was in a sling, his right arm was hooked to an IV, and his legs were wrapped in the sleeves of a sequential compression device. He felt something odd around his wrist. It felt like metal. When he tried to bring his arm closer to see, it was stuck to the railing. He pushed the button for the nurse. It seemed like an eternity until an exceptionally large man wearing blue scrubs entered.
“Mr. Sykes, what can I do for you?” the man asked.
“Can you tell me what is attached to my wrist?” He jiggled the tether.
“Mr. Sykes, they are called handcuffs,” the man said plainly.
“Sorry? What did you say?” Jeremy thought something might have happened to his hearing.
“Handcuffs,” the man answered again.
“I don’t understand.” Jeremy truly did not.
“When they found you at the crash site, they also found a vial of morphine in your car.”
Jeremy tried to sit up. That was when he realized his head was also bandaged. “Morphine?”
“The sheriff said they’re investigating.” The man stopped. “Hasn’t anyone talked to you about this?”
“If anyone has, I don’t recall. I’ve been drifting in and out since, I dunno, a little while ago, maybe?” He was trying hard to think.
