Chapter 8: The Name Doreen Called
Richard Hale arrived at Briar Glen at half past five.
Leah knew he had arrived because the energy in the hallway changed.
She could hear it through the closed door of the private room — a shift in the way people were moving, a new set of footsteps that did not belong to nursing staff.
Purposeful.
Expensive shoes on linoleum.
Mae knocked twice and came in without waiting.
"Doreen's attorney is here," she said.
"I heard."
"He's asking to speak with the hospital administrator.
Gerald is already in that meeting." Mae looked at Owen, then at Leah.
"How are you doing?"
"I'm fine."
"You're not fine.
You had a cesarean section thirty-six hours ago and you've been in a supply room and a legal dispute since this morning." Mae sat on the edge of the chair Gerald had vacated.
"You're allowed to not be fine."
Leah looked at her.
"If I stop being fine right now," she said, "I won't be able to think.
And I need to think."
Mae nodded.
"Then think out loud.
What do you need?"
"I need to know what Richard Hale can actually do.
Doreen said she has resources.
What does that mean in a hospital?"
"It means she can apply pressure to the administrator.
It means she can threaten to withdraw the Carver family's philanthropic support for the maternity wing.
It means she can make this hospital's legal department nervous enough to want the whole situation to go away quietly."
"And going away quietly means what?"
"It could mean the hold gets quietly reinstated once the immediate objection period passes.
It could mean Gerald's objection gets buried in a review process that takes weeks." Mae paused.
"It could mean they find a way to make you look unstable enough that the documentation becomes credible."
Leah thought about that.
"They need evidence of instability," she said.
"Yes."
"Then I need to give them the opposite." She looked at Nathan, who was sitting in the corner with his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands.
"Nathan."
He looked up.
"Your mother is going to try to use our marriage against me.
She's going to say I'm erratic, that I've been difficult, that the nightmare, the arguments, the anxiety during the pregnancy — all of it is evidence of instability."
"Leah—"
"I'm not asking you to agree with me.
I'm asking you to think about what she's going to say and tell me if I'm wrong."
He was quiet for a long moment.
"You're not wrong," he said.
"Then I need you to do something.
I need you to call your sister.
Claire.
Not the one at boarding school — Claire, the one who came to our wedding.
The one your mother has never fully forgiven for moving to Seattle."
Nathan frowned.
"Why Claire?"
"Because Claire doesn't owe your mother anything.
And because Claire was with me for three days last spring when you were in Chicago for work, and she saw exactly how I am.
She saw me calm.
She saw me rational.
She saw me handle your mother's phone calls without falling apart." Leah held his gaze.
"She's a witness.
And she's family.
Doreen can't dismiss her as easily as she can dismiss my friends."
Nathan stared at her.
"You've been thinking about this," he said.
"I've been thinking about this since I heard your mother's voice through that door," Leah said.
"Call Claire."
He pulled out his phone and left the room.
Mae watched him go.
"He'll make the call," she said.
"I know." Leah looked at Owen.
"That's not the part I'm worried about."
"What is?"
"Dr.
Rusk." Leah shifted Owen against her shoulder.
"She signed that evaluation.
She listed a psychiatric history I don't have.
She either fabricated it herself or she accepted fabricated information from Doreen and put her name on it.
Either way, she's exposed.
And when people are exposed, they either tell the truth or they double down."
"You think she'll double down."
"I think Doreen has had a relationship with that woman for years.
I think Doreen has been very generous to people who cooperate with her and very unpleasant to people who don't." Leah paused.
"I think Dr.
Rusk is going to need a reason to tell the truth that is stronger than her reason to stay quiet."
Mae was quiet for a moment.
"Gerald may have that reason," she said carefully.
"The Mercy General case.
If Dr.
Rusk's name appears anywhere in that file—"
"Does it?"
Mae's expression shifted.
Just slightly.
Just enough.
"Mae," Leah said.
"Does Dr.
Rusk's name appear in the Mercy General file?"
Mae stood up.
She smoothed the front of her scrubs.
She walked to the window and looked out at the same parking structure Nathan had been staring at an hour ago.
"I've worked with Gerald Foss twice before," she said.
"The first time was a billing dispute.
The second time was three years ago.
A patient on this ward.
A new mother.
The situation was different from yours — different family, different circumstances." She stopped.
"But the evaluating physician was the same."
The room was very still.
"Dr.
Rusk has done this before," Leah said.
"I can't confirm that officially."
"Mae."
Mae turned from the window.
Her face was composed, but her hands were not entirely steady.
"Gerald knows," she said.
"That's all I can tell you.
Gerald knows, and he came here today because I called him, and I called him because I recognized the paperwork the moment Doreen brought it onto this ward." She met Leah's eyes.
"I've been waiting for a case strong enough to hold.
I think this is it."
From the hallway, raised voices.
Gerald's, and another — older, smoother, the practiced authority of a man who charged by the hour.
Then the administrator's voice, trying to mediate.
Then silence.
Then Gerald's footsteps, coming toward the room.
He opened the door.
He looked at Leah.
He looked at Mae.
"Dr.
Rusk just requested an urgent meeting with the hospital's ethics board," he said.
"She's asking for immunity in exchange for a full statement."
Mae closed her eyes.
Leah held Owen a little tighter.
"She's going to tell the truth," Leah said.
"She's going to try to get ahead of it," Gerald said.
"Which is not the same thing.
But it gives us what we need."
He held up a single sheet of paper.
"The co-signature was never obtained," he said.
"The hold is formally void.
You are free to leave this hospital whenever your medical team clears you for discharge." He set the paper on the bedside table.
"Doreen Carver is currently in a meeting with the administrator and her attorney.
She has been informed that the hospital will be cooperating fully with the Ohio Medical Board review."
Leah looked at the paper.
She did not feel what she had expected to feel.
She had expected relief, or triumph, or the particular exhaustion that comes after a long fight finally turns.
Instead she felt something quieter.
Something that had not finished yet.
"What happens to Doreen?" she said.
May you like
Gerald sat down.
"That," he said, "is where it gets complicated."
