Shadows of Recovery (Everhart Family #3)

Chapter 36

Thirty-Six

A week later, Tristan sat at his desk in his office at the hospital, going through the previous week’s charts. The monotony of his task was suddenly shattered when he came across a familiar name: Trace Whitlock. He choked on his coffee, anger and disbelief surging through him.

He quickly opened the hospital census and searched for Trace’s name, his heart pounding. There it was. Trace Whitlock was in the ICU in kidney and liver failure. But what made Tristan’s blood run cold was the name listed as Trace’s personal physician: Kay Birdham.

Tristan picked up his phone and dialed Brad Killian, his hand shaking with anger. "Brad, you're not going to believe this. Trace Whitlock is a patient in the hospital."

"Are you sure?" Brad's voice crackled through the phone, filled with surprise.

"Yes, I'm looking at the admission right now," Tristan tried to keep his voice steady. "He's in the ICU, and his physician of record is… Kay Birdham. I fired her for committing medical malpractice involving Sophie’s care.” He exhaled loudly. “Damn it. She shouldn’t be practicing. But the state hasn’t dealt with the malpractice complaint yet."

There was a pause on the other end before Brad responded, "That's concerning. Kay Birdham being involved complicates things. We need to understand why she’s his physician and what’s going on with his treatment. And, most importantly, if Damon or any others from the Eldon Sect are visiting. Tristan, the hospital grounds are fair game. We can take them in for questioning.”

Tristan growled, "I’m going to the ICU. I need to see this for myself."

"Keep me updated," Brad said. "I'll move some things on my end."

Tristan made his way to the ICU. When he arrived, he spotted Kay Birdham talking to a nurse outside Trace’s room. He took a deep breath and approached her.

"Kay," he said, his voice tight with controlled anger.

Kay turned to face him, her expression unreadable. "Tristan."

"Why is Trace Whitlock under your care?" he demanded, his eyes narrowing.

Kay met his gaze without flinching. "He’s my patient. The Whitlock family hired me. I’m taking care of the population of Eldon Falls.”

Tristan clenched his fists, struggling to keep his composure. "Eldon Falls’ physician? When was the last time you treated a patient medically? You admitted him for rule out kidney and liver failure some time ago. What’s his diagnosis?”

She glared at him.

The hospitalist walked over. “Tristan.” She shook his hand. “Dr. Birdham, I wish you had told us Mr. Whitlock’s cat had been sleeping with him. His wife said, about a week before he developed a fever, he’d been scratching something fierce. We ran some more tests. Mr. Whitlock has contracted a Yersinia pestis infection, likely from flea bites. I’ve ordered a different set of antibiotics and a sonogram of his liver. I suspect an abscess.”

Tristan glanced through the window into Trace’s room. The sight of the patriarch, frail and vulnerable, only fueled his anger. "Did you report it to the health department? Plague is on the list.” He turned his ire to Kay. “We always ask about animals. Flea-carried disease is common in the western part of the US.”

He turned his body so the hospitalist didn’t hear him. “This is more than just a medical issue, Kay. There are serious ethical concerns here."

She raised an eyebrow. "Are you questioning my integrity, Tristan?"

"I’m questioning your involvement, given the circumstances," he shot back. "This isn’t just about Trace’s health. This is about the safety and well-being of everyone around him."

The hospitalist was called away. Before leaving, she said, “Tristan, tell Sophie I miss her.”

Tristan smiled at her and turned his frown on Kay.

“Unfucking real,” Kay spat. “My priority is my patients’ health. And I have to put food on my table.”

Tristan took a step closer, lowering his voice. "This isn’t just about Trace’s health, Kay. He’s dangerous. His family is dangerous. And the fact that he’s here at this hospital, a facility his son almost destroyed, raises a lot of questions. We need to ensure his treatment is transparent and above board."

Kay glared. "I’ll make sure everything is documented and open for review. But, Tristan, you are not my boss anymore."

“I’m an administrator in this hospital. I’m sending a copy of the letter Chris Skylar sent to the state review board to this hospital’s board. If the state is slow in removing your license, at least the hospital won’t let you practice. Your days treating patients here are numbered.”

Two women, one in her seventies and one about thirty, walked out of Trace’s room. “Dr. Kay, who is this?” the older woman asked.

Tristan noticed Kay shudder at the question. He extended his hand. “I’m Tristan Blackwell, head of the Emergency Department, just following up on the patients who were treated in our unit.”

“I’m Noreen Whitlock, Trace’s wife, and this is my daughter-in-law, Rebecca. She’s married to my son Nathan. He is making arrangements to bring Trace home. Sadly, it will soon be his time.”

Tristan looked at Kay. “Didn’t Dr. Kay…” he emphasized her name, “didn’t Dr. Kay tell you the news? They found the cause of Mr. Whitlock’s worsening condition. They are trying new antibiotics and scanning his liver. If they caught it in time, he should be back to what his baseline was soon.”

“Lord preserves us,” Noreen Whitlock said.

“I’ll leave you to discuss things with Dr. Birdham.” His phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out and saw a message from Brad: Need to meet. Urgent.

He looked back at Kay and the two Whitlock women. "Kay, this isn’t over. We need to talk more about this.”

Tristan hurried to his office, where Brad was waiting for him, his expression grim as he closed the door.

"How did you get here so fast?” Tristan asked, his heart pounding.

“I was at Waverly Junction Community Hospital questioning a couple of nurses who are working there now.” Brad handed him a file. "I made a call after we spoke. I’m putting a couple of undercovers in your ICU.”

Tristan smiled. “I have better news than the wait-and-see position. Trace Whitlock has Yersinia pestis, better known as the plague.”

Brad looked at Tristan as if he were nuts. “The plague? Don’t we need to be wearing isolation suits? Isn’t it dangerous?”

“He’s in isolation, and it’s containable. But it’s mandatory to report to the state,” Tristan said.

“I think I love you,” Brad said.

“Love the flea-bitten cat that gave it to him.” Tristan smirked.

“We can plan a raid to look for ‘the source.’” Brad made quotation marks with his fingers.

“How soon can you raid them?”

Tristan flipped through the file Brad brought in, his smile dissipating. "God, Brad.” The file catalogued each crime committed, including photographs by Damon Whitlock and his sect members on Valentine’s Day and the following days. Some of the photographs were of Sophie’s visible injuries.

Brad reached across Tristan’s desk and closed the file. "We need to tread carefully. These are dangerous people, and if I don’t follow all the rules, this could blow up in our faces."

Tristan’s resolve hardened. "We need to protect our patients here, protect Sophie and ensure justice is served. The Whitlock family can’t be allowed to get away with whatever they’ve done."

Brad said, “We’ll monitor his visitors closely, gather as much new evidence as we can, and wait for the state to give the highway patrol the green light to go in and make arrests. They’re not going to take kindly to us using public health law as an in."

Tristan exploded, unable to contain his frustration any longer. “Who cares what law you use? These people need to be stopped!”

Brad opened his palms in a calming gesture. “Tristan, take a step back. You know why. If we use public health law to arrest rather than protect people, it undermines our credibility and the trust in those laws.”

Tristan dropped his head into his hands, his voice breaking. “Brad, Sophie’s coming back to me. I can’t let these people get away with what they did. If their crimes gain oxygen again, if they hurt more people… Sophie... I don’t know what will happen.”

Brad leaned forward, his tone gentle but firm. “I understand, Tristan. Believe me, I do. But we have to be smart about this. We need to ensure that, when we move, we do it right. The highway patrol needs solid evidence to act, and we need to ensure public health laws are upheld for their intended purpose.”

Tristan lifted his head, his eyes filled with desperation. “What if we don’t get the green light in time? What if more people get hurt?”

Brad sighed, understanding the depth of Tristan's concern. “We’re working as fast as we can. The public health angle gives us a way in, but it also ties our hands in certain respects. We have to balance need with legality.”

Tristan nodded slowly, absorbing Brad’s words. “I just... I need to know we’re doing everything we can.”

“We are,” Brad assured him. “And we will. Our actions must be above reproach. If we rush this, and it falls apart, we could lose our chance to bring them to justice.”

Tristan took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. “Alright. What’s our next step?”

Brad leaned back, organizing his thoughts. “We continue to document everything. Every visitor, every interaction. If we can make an arrest here, we will. We keep a close eye on Kay Birdham and her involvement with Trace. And we wait for the green light from the state. In the meantime, we stay vigilant and ready to act.”

Tristan nodded, feeling a bit more grounded. “Okay. I trust you to do this right.”