Page 98 of Keep This Promise
“How you’re not completely bored is beyond me,” I say as I sit next to him. “We’ve been reading this file all day and have found nothing.”
“I’m going cross-eyed, but I can’t help thinking Holden was right about this. There are weird things mixed in the notes from this one cardiologist toward the middle. Dates that aren’t the same as the appointment, which wouldn’t typically be alarming, but it almost seems as if he’s talking about another patient.” Spencer pushes the file toward me. “Look at this one.”
I read the doctor’s assessment, explaining his heart has deteriorated more and his need for a transplant is now imminent. He notes the results of the EKG as well as the ultrasound. Then there’s one random sentence that states: “The patient should look in Georgia or Texas.”
“Is he talking about finding a donor, and do you look by states here?” I ask with confusion.
“No, and I’m not sure what he’s talking about.”
“Surely, he wasn’t advising Theo to get a heart from the black market, right?”
Spencer shrugs. “I can’t imagine that’s ethical, but I’ve seen people with money do some crazy shit. Go to the next visit, there’s another mention three paragraphs in.”
I flip the page and scan to the section he’s referring to. There it discusses going overseas to make a withdrawal. A withdrawal of what, though? I keep reading, but it doesn’t specify. What does catch my eye is the mention of the medication.
“Well, the medication is incorrect.” I point to where it’s listed so Spencer knows what I’m talking about. “Theo wasn’t on Zebeta at that point. He didn’t take that until the last six months. This report is two years before that.”
“So, do you think it’s an error?”
It could be, but that’s a major error to make. To have the wrong medications listed would’ve caused major issues if he had to be hospitalized. “I’m not sure . . .”
The rest of the page looks fine, so I find his next visit with this doctor. That one starts off reading exactly like a normal cardiology appointment, only this time, there’s a random number that could never be a blood pressure reading. He would be dead if that was the case.
“Look at this.” I show Spencer. “He would be dead if his blood pressure was 86/753.”
“Jesus. And look at the temperature. He was 183?”
“This doesn’t make sense. Dr. Frasher is one of the best cardiologists in London. There is no way he or his staff are this incompetent. Either this was done on purpose, or his records were tampered with.”
“Look at the next. Let’s see if there’s a pattern.”
Sure enough, the same readings are listed under that appointment too. There’s no way this is a coincidence. “How did Holden miss this?”
“He may not have gotten this far into it. I don’t think he got it until last week, or maybe he’s just scanning the notes and not looking at the vitals, I don’t know. Have no fear, Sophie, I will give him ample shit for it.”
We both laugh and then I keep going through all his vitals on each sheet, and the numbers flex in those spots. Sometimes the temperature is listed as 86 and then his blood pressure is 75/318, which also don’t make any sense.
“I don’t understand what any of that means.”
Spencer runs his hands through his hair. “I’ll be right back.”
He heads to Holden’s room. I follow, unsure of what he’s doing. “Spencer?”
“Did Holden talk to you about the postcards he got from Theo?”
“Yes, but there wasn’t anything strange on them.”
His chuckle says otherwise. “The fact that he got them is strange enough, but I agree with Holden. There was something about using his license number that was odd. It’s why we thought maybe his file would contain the answers.”
“All right . . .”
“I’m going off a hunch that they’re related in these possible typos.”
After rummaging through a few of Holden’s drawers, he lets out a triumphant, “Ha!” Then he’s holding a postcard, brandishing it in the air. “Found it.”
We walk back to the dining room, and Spencer sets the postcard on top of the notes so that the strange readings are right below where Theo had written Holden’s medical license number.
“I don’t understand,” I say, more to myself than anything.
