Every time my brother-in-law drove me home, I would lose consciousness and wake up with unexplained aches and pains. My husband would only laugh and say, “You’re just out of shape, that’s all.” After the fourth ride, I secretly slipped a voice recorder into my purse and said nothing. That night, I listened to a phone conversation between the two of them that revealed my blackouts had never been accidental.
The invoice was marked secure document retention.
Its billing date was the day before Julian had arranged the fourth ride.
“Could be ordinary business,” Beth said.
“Could be,” I agreed.
“But look at the reference prefix.
It’s the same three letters as the patient code.”
She compared them, then added a note to her file.
I went to bed that night feeling something I hadn’t felt in days: useful.
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