Page 4 of I’ll Be Watching You

“He confessed, so he must have done it, but there had to have been a reason, a really good reason, because they were friends. It didn’t make sense to me, or to anyone who knew Dr. Cooper.”

No, it didn’t make sense. Yet everyone accepted his guilty plea and he’s now sitting in prison.

“And now?” I pressed.

“I saw something unusual,” she said in a rush, “and I tried calling Georgia, but she didn’t answer and her voice mail box was full so I couldn’t even leave a message.”

“What did you see?”

“I need to talk to my husband first. I shouldn’t have called until—but, oh, shoot. I’m sorry to bother you. It could be nothing. I could be making a mountain out of a molehill.”

“It’s not a bother,” I said quickly, not wanting her to hang up. “I’m still investigating Dr. Klein’s murder because, you’re right, nothing about that night makes any sense. What happened that prompted you to call me? Please, Liz,” I added with genuine emotion. “You said you admired my dad. I don’t care what he said, he didn’t kill anyone. I just need something to help him, no matter how small. Please.” I was begging. I needed to be stronger, but this was my dad and my emotions always seemed to rise to the surface whenever I talked about his case.

“I can’t share specifics, it’s about a patient. Just . . .” She stopped and I could sense she was having an inner ethical battle.

“I can meet you anywhere, name the time and place.”

I didn’t want to go out tonight, but I would. For my dad I would walk barefoot over burning coals.

“I saw a patient today,” Liz said. “He hadn’t been in for a couple years, and when I looked at his chart I saw that he had been a patient of both Dr. Klein and your dad. I was adding information in the notes section, saw a report that had been referenced so went to look at the results, but nothing was there. Everything is electronic. The reference number was in the notes, but the report was missing. That’s when I noticed an entire year of his file was missing. Um, every encounter with a patient is logged. If an encounter is deleted, it shows that. It happens. Except his chart had notes referencing these deleted encounters, but the notes didn’t make sense out of context. So it stood out.”

She stopped talking. I waited, but there was only silence.

“Liz?” I prompted. “Could it be because he hadn’t been seen during that year?”

“No, because there were visit dates and codes, but when I clicked through, the screen was blank. That’s why it stood out to me. I thought maybe I misread it or had done something wrong,” she continued, “so at end of shift, I pulled it up again. And I couldn’t find anything. His entire chart was gone. Logs. Everything. Just—gone. Not even a patient record, as if he didn’t exist.”

“What’s his name?”

“I can’t tell you that,” she said flatly.

“Well, if his patient chart is gone then it’s not really a privilege anymore,” I said.

“That’s not how it works. I will not violate his privacy, I could lose my job.” she said emphatically.

“I think we should meet tonight.” This was a lead, no matter how tenuous. If I could get one small detail to chase, that was better than what I currently had, which was nothing but a missing assistant and my deep faith that my dad was innocent.

“My husband is a lawyer, he can help me figure out what I can tell you. There are a few other things . . .” Her voice trailed off.

“Liz?” I feared she’d hung up.

She sighed, and I could practically hear her weighing the pros and cons of spilling everything, then she said, “Well, this wasn’t the first time I noticed a year missing from a patient’s file.”

“You’re telling me that there are at least two patients who have a missing year that you believe was deleted. Why would this be important?”

“The year missing was four years ago.”

Before Dr. Klein was murdered and my dad pled guilty.

“Let’s meet. If not tonight, tomorrow. Anywhere, anytime.”

“Okay,” she said reluctantly. “Is seven too early?”

“Not at all,” I said, relieved. “Where?”

“Not near the medical center,” Liz said. “I can’t have anyone see me talking to you. I’ll bring my husband. I really want to help, but I need to make sure that I’m not going to get in trouble for it.”

“I understand.”