Dead Wrong Read Free Page A

“What do you know about her history?”
    The nurse studied his palm computer a moment, then slid it back into the breast pocket of his scrubs. “She’s an overdose. She was admitted here because neuro is full.”
    Perfect. That was the fabricated cover story exactly. “This isn’t—” she caught herself before using Bobbie’s real name, “—Leslie’s first admit. During a prior admit to Nine West a man claiming to be Dr. James Witherspoon tried to access her chart. You know Diane Halvorson?”
    The nurse nodded. “Charge nurse on psych?”
    “Yup. She’s been here longer than God and knows just about everyone on staff. Anyway, this Witherspoon shows up on her ward asking for Leslie’s chart. Diane doesn’t recognize him so she asks him for his ID. He pulls one out of his pocket. It looks okay, but something just doesn’t sit right so she digs in and says no. You know how most docs would be—they’d go bat shit on her. But this Witherspoon guy just walks away without a word.
    “Soon as I heard about it I called medical affairs. Turns out Witherspoon’s not on staff. That got me curious, so I checked with the King County Medical Society and the state licensing office. Same thing. There’s no such doctor in this state. He’s a fraud.”
    The charge nurse adjusted his wristwatch. “So, what’s up with him? I mean, why all the lurking around?”
    Crap . She didn’t want to go into details. On the other hand, it’d feel good to defend herself against all the accusing stares from the other residents. She imagined the rumors floating around about her incompetence. Rumors that would quickly spill over from house staff to nursing staff.
    “It’s complicated, but here’s the short version: She’s in for a Valium overdose, obviously.” Baker had washed down a bottle of Valium with most of a bottle of Cutty Sark. “But here’s the thing: with her history of depression, she never should’ve been given the Valium in the first place. Turns out, when they checked the prescription, my name was on the bottle. And that’s nuts. I never prescribed a sedative for her, much less Valium.” Too much emotion spiced her words, she realized. Tone it down . “The only prescription I ever wrote her was Paxil.”
    The nurse’s silence prompted Sarah to continue. “Turns out the Valium came from the same Walgreens she uses for other prescriptions, but when I checked with the head pharmacist there, he claimed there’s no record of a Valium script for her. None! It was fake.”
    The nurse asked, “So what are you saying, that this Witherspoon gave her that prescription?”
    Exactly! At least, her gut knew that was it. But gut feelings didn’t prove a thing and certainly couldn’t exonerate her for apparently prescribing the wrong drug for Bobbie—a drug that would’ve killed her if Trent hadn’t come home in time. The only person to know for certain who gave her the prescription was Bobbie, and right now she was in the other room drugged and intubated.
    “I don’t know. But I intend to find out. Until this is cleared up I’m on probation.” She should get to work. “Sorry, I’ve taken too much of your time. I’ll let you get back to your patients. Thanks for the information.”

    A S SARAH ENTERED room 621 a nurse in purple scrubs connected a liter of normal saline onto an IV holder, a clear plastic tube snaking down to a vein in the back of Bobbie’s hand. A single sheet covered Bobbie’s body; her eyes were shut, and a breathing tube and bite block were taped securely in her mouth. At the head of the bed a corrugated plastic tube linked an air humidifier to a tube in Bobbie Baker’s trachea inserted three days ago as a lifesaving measure when Baker was too drugged to breathe. The respirator next to the bed stood silent now, allowing her to breathe on her own. The question being, Was she breathing well enough to remove the tube?
    “How is she?” Sarah asked.
    Caught by surprise, the nurse jumped and