Page 8 of The Chance

“I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time, you know. I grew up in Houston, you know.”

“I’m sure you have. But just humor me. I don’t exactly like Genny walking out here by herself, either.”

Well, she had heard him telling Genny he wasn’t about to let her walk out to the parking lot by herself late at night while he was around a few times before. She’d give him that. He did like to hover over his little sister. Much like she did hers; she understood.

“Is there something in particular you need, Dr. Hiller? My little sister is waiting for me to call her that I’ve made it home okay tonight. She’s with your sister and Hala somewhere. They are breaking curfew and being really wicked, she told me.”

“Yes. Your audits.”

Okay. So business-related. She could handle that. For five minutes. It was part of the job. “What about them?”

“I have some concerns. Recent pharmaceutical request sheets have wandered away.”

Those were paper copies of digital records. He could print out more whenever he needed. Why did he need her for that? “What do you mean?”

“I had four months’ worth of med request forms on my desk in my office when I left yesterday. My locked office. I did not misplace them. The file they were in is still there. The other eight sheets are still there. But four are missing. I scanned them before I left that night. I have the digital copies—but four months’ hard copies are missing.”

And it was procedure to report any irregularities. Okay, she could roll with that. But couldn’t this have waited until the morning? “Are you sure that you didn’t make a mistake?”

“I don’t make those kinds of mistakes, Aubrey. Not with drugs like Oxycodone and Hydrocodone.”

She fought a shiver at how the man said her name. He had no idea what kind of power that warm voice of his could have over a woman. But she was going to keep that to herself. “So what exactly are you saying?”

“I’m saying I think someone got into my office somehow and took four specific forms. I just don’t know why. Or what the point would be. All of the information in them was readily available. Anyone with the proper log-ins could print them for themselves.”

“Who knew you had them?” The hospital had a strict drug-monitoring policy. Every document was vitally important; every prescription request was heavily tracked. It just was. They followed all applicable federal and state laws, and Carrington Medical Group had regulations built on top of that. Regulations Aubrey now knew backwards and forwards.

“Whoever has access to the system, I’m sure. I was logged in. And it’s not secret that I do a paper audit every three months in our department. Especially… opioids and benzos.”

“Get me copies of everything that’s missing. I’ll have… someone go over everything. Who all has keys to your office or knows the code?” They had digital locks, plus manual. Thanks to Carrington. Jordan and Dathan Carrington were fanatical about safety and security. Period.

“No one.” His hand wrapped around her elbow. His fingers were scorching hot. He almost brushed his fingers against her skin. “Not even Chad. Only Caine and security have copies of my keys.”

“I see. Make sure that Caine or I get everything you have, as soon as you can.”

“Great. I’ll do that. Now…let me walk you to your car. And you can explain to me what the police were doing in the ED a few hours ago. I was a bit busy at the time. Twelve whopping pounds, three ounces. Boy. Mom weighs one hundred pounds tops. It got a bit dicey there for a while.”

Aubrey just stared at him in the parking lot lights. “That is a very big baby. Gestational diabetes?”

“I’m not sure. Most likely.” His expression tightened. “I suspect poor access to prenatal care had something to do with it, too. Garrity address. I’d never met her before. Incomplete history. I’m not sure she has had any prenatal care at all, honestly.”

Aubrey winced. She knew what he was getting at. Medical care in Garrity was almost non-existent now. There had been a small clinic in that area that had closed over a decade ago, and the once-thriving hospital in Garrity County was just a ghost town now. There was a doctor around Aubrey’s own age running an offshoot clinic there—they’d had a few classes together several years ago—and that woman was being run ragged. Dr. Zinck had privileges at BCGH. BCGH was the closest hospital for a good third of Garrity County. “That stinks. I hate when there are incomplete histories.”

“No kidding. She’s twenty-two. Could barely meet my eyes. I don’t suspect abuse, but definitely not comfortable with a male OB. And some results on post-delivery concern me. I’m going to keep her an extra day, run some blood work. If she’ll agree. Just to be on the safe side. There is a reason that baby was that big. He appears healthy, though. APGAR was great.”

He took his patients very seriously. She had noticed that before. “You are a good obstetrician, you know. She’s lucky to have gotten you.”

“Thanks. Now you just flatter.”

“I don’t flatter. It’s the truth.”

A trio of women came out of the entrance behind them. Aubrey’s stomach tightened again—and not in a good way. She wanted to go home, to forget this place—and that woman in the center—for one night. “I need to get to my car. I do not feel up to dealing with her.”

He looked over his shoulder, then started toward her SUV. No surprise—he was parked near her. “I don’t blame you. Can I… take you to the diner tonight? We can call our baby sisters and prank them. Ask if their refrigerator is running. That kind of thing. We can find Genny, and I’ll browbeat Chad into joining us. We can watch the two of them try not to fight constantly. We can do indoor mini-golf in Finley Creek. Go to a movie?”

“I don’t think that’s going to happen.” Had she missed it—was Guthrie Hiller asking her on a date here? And… why did it sound far too exciting?

“Why?”

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