Julie’s brow furrowed. “Can you check Sam’s file for me without anybody knowing you’re in the system?”
“Sure. I can do it from here using the superuser ID. It gives me admin access, plus I know how to mask my IP-that’s my Internet address-so I can’t be traced.”
“Do it.”
It took Jordan a few minutes to bring up White’s electronic medical records system. He used a special key that generated a one-time password. The key, the size of a credit card and nearly as thin, generated a series of numbers that cryptographically authenticated the user. It was the same technology Julie used to access the records system from any remote location, typically her home.
“Where did you get hold of one of those?” Julie asked.
Jordan was typing furiously as screens of meaningless data scrolled by at a rapid rate.
“Um, some questions I think I’d rather not answer.”
He went quiet for a bit, with the intense concentration and focus of a surgeon. Then his eyes opened wide. “Look here, you can see the date Sam’s record was created.”
Julie peered over Jordan’s shoulder at a screen titled Transaction Log. The date was the day of the accident, and it brought back dark memories.
“The transaction logs show limited data. You can see the date a record was created, and there’s a transaction type for records being added, modified, or deleted.”
“It doesn’t say what exactly was done to the record?”
“No. I’ve actually read up on that, because I had the same question. I don’t know any EMR system that records every adjustment to the medical record itself. It would create too unwieldy a file. You’d have to invest a lot of money to get a system robust enough to handle something like that. Transaction logs are used for IT troubleshooting only. Your typical techs don’t know a tibia from a femur, but they can understand transaction types just fine.”
“Did someone delete something from Sam’s record?”
“Look right here.”
Julie focused where Jordan pointed and she saw a record deletion entry made on the same day Sam had died.
“Whoever deleted the record used a superuser ID to make changes. Just like with Colchester’s EMR, I can’t tell who altered it or what they deleted.”
“Let me have a look. Maybe I can remember.”
Julie took her time to examine Sam’s extensive medical record carefully. It was all there: treatments, medications, operations, a complete compilation of an unfathomably expensive stay in the hospital. But for the life of her, Julie could not figure out what was missing from his file. Everything seemed to have been recorded properly.
Jordan came back from checking up on the girls. “What did you find?”
“I don’t see anything,” Julie admitted.
“Two cases of this rare fatal heart disease and two altered records tells me that someone isn’t going to like you digging around a bunch of EMR files on a treasure hunt. Know what I’m saying?”
“Not exactly.”
“Let me do the digging for you. I know how to get into the system and poke around without being spotted. You go in as you, and you’re broadcasting yourself to anyone who wants to keep something hidden.”’
Dr. Coffey and William Colchester were two names that popped into Julie’s head as possible secret keepers. Sherri Platt was another.
“I don’t want you involved with this, Jordan. Can you teach me how to do it?”
“Depends. How good are you with tech?”
Without embarrassment, Julie told Jordan she had needed Trevor’s help to load a music player with digital files. Jordan’s look told her plenty.
“Yeah, that isn’t going to work too well. Again, let me do it for you. I want to do it. Heck, I got this far, I should see this to the end.”
Julie thought about the man at the river and her tense meeting with William Colchester. She did not want Jordan involved, but on the flip side she wanted answers. She hesitated before extending her hand. They shook.
Partners.
LINCOLN COLE sat in his parked van, waiting for Julie to come out of Jordan Cobb’s apartment. What he needed now was some direction. He had given Julie a little shove down by the river, and then driven his motorcycle into the back of his van. He had parked right off the exit to hasten his vanishing act. He figured that after the scare, Julie would take some time off her crusade to think things over. Instead, she surprised him by paying Colchester a visit, calling Sherri Platt, and getting Jordan Cobb from White Memorial involved in her little quest.
Lincoln guessed the sizable man escorting Julie back to her car was the morgue tech. He knew Jordan Cobb by voice only. Soon he’d know everything there was to know about him. His employer needed to make some hard choices based on this new information. For now, Lincoln would do his job. He would follow the doctor. But these latest developments were very troubling. If Lincoln’s gentle shove had not done the trick, something more punishing might be in order.
Those considerations were for another time. Julie had pulled away from the curb.
And Lincoln did the same.
CHAPTER 32
Julie arrived home a little after nine o’clock and parked her Prius in her designated space. She trudged to the apartment building entrance as if she was dragging a cinder block chained to her leg. The day had drained her completely. Jordan had invited Julie to stay for dinner, but she politely declined. Best that he and the girls managed the evening routine without her interruption.
The girls were delightful, and Julie was glad to get to know the Cobb family. She was also glad Trevor was out for the night. She needed her space, quiet, and time to collect her thoughts. Julie had white wine chilled in the fridge and a new Downton Abbey on the DVR to watch. Except for Winston, the guinea pig, the apartment was hers alone for the night.
Jordan had an incredibly time-consuming task ahead of him, but he was ready to get to work. He would have to sift through all the recent deaths at White, and look at echocardiograms and EKGs for any signs of takotsubo. A third case should be something Dr. Coffey could not so easily brush aside with his Twinkie theory.
As she neared the door, a shadow cut across Julie’s vision. She stopped walking to look in that direction. An uneasy feeling took hold as a figure emerged from the darkness, a silhouette on approach. The pounding of Julie’s heart was louder than her footsteps had been. Her throat closed up, but Julie’s fear morphed into confusion when William Colchester stepped under a light. He wore a beige trench coat over his suit and Julie took special notice of his hands encased in leather gloves.
She did not like the gloves.
“What are you doing here?” Julie’s voice carried a hard edge as she squeezed her hands into fists.
“We need to talk.”
“We did that already. This is harassment. I told you as much. I’ll call the police.”
“I want to make a deal.”
“A deal?”
“That’s all. I came here with an offer.”
“How the hell do you know where I live, anyway? And how long have you been waiting for me?”
Colchester gave a sideways smile. “Long enough. And let’s just say I have a lot of loyal constituents.”
“Yeah, I know all about them. They like to share my private conversations with you and shake me down at the river. What is it you want?”
“I want you to leave this Brandon Stahl business alone.”
“And why should I do that?”
Colchester made two sidelong glances, as if worried somebody might be watching or listening. A conspiratorial look came to his face.
“There are some legislative bills coming before the House that, if passed, are very favorable to White Memorial-taxes, zoning, matters of that nature. What’s good for White could be advantageous to you. I’d be happy to do a little lobbying if you stop trying to free my son’s killer.”