Chapter 10 - THE WRONG PATIENT
Marcus was awake before Khloe said his name twice.
He stood between the woman and the bed.
“Who are you?”
“Patient transport.”
“Show me your badge.”
She lifted the clipboard.
“My supervisor—”
“Your badge.”
The room’s speaker clicked.
“Can I help you?”
Khloe answered loudly.
“Someone’s in my room who shouldn’t be.”
The woman moved toward the door.
Marcus didn’t grab her.
He stepped aside just enough to let her enter the hallway, then called for security.
She ran.
A nurse came from the station.
Another closed Khloe’s door.
Within minutes, security found the woman near the service elevators.
She had no hospital employment record.
The transport order on her clipboard was a printed imitation.
Khloe sat upright, shaking so badly she couldn’t hold the cup Rachel offered when she returned from the family lounge.
“They knew my room.”
Ortiz arrived before dawn.
The woman identified herself as a temporary event contractor named Tessa Bell.
She claimed she had been paid to collect documents from Khloe’s belongings and bring them downstairs.
Moving Khloe out of the room was supposed to make that easier.
“Paid by whom?” Marcus asked.
“She says the instruction came through a staffing contact. We’re checking.”
Khloe stared at the detective.
“So I’m supposed to believe she only wanted my purse?”
“No,” Ortiz said. “You’re supposed to know we stopped her, and we’re investigating what she was doing.”
That answer helped more than reassurance would have.
The hospital changed Khloe’s visitor password and assigned additional security.
Her medical team reviewed who could access her location.
Marcus’s phone rang at sunrise.
The forensic accountant sounded different now.
“We found a second payment stream.”
“How much?”
“Enough that I don’t want to estimate before we reconcile it.”
“What’s different about it?”
“Money came back from Bellwether.”
“To the foundation?”
“No. To a private consulting business.”
Marcus waited.
“Rossi Strategic Relations.”
He looked through the glass at his wife.
Khloe had one hand over her stomach.
The other was gripping Rachel’s.
The accountant continued.
“There’s an attached service agreement.”
“What service?”
“Reputation management.”
May you like
Marcus said nothing.
“The contract describes your wife by name.”
