Five, ten, fifteen, twenty, twenty-five, thirty. Holly carefully counted the Zofran pills into the side of her tray, using her plastic pill-counting spatula. She scooped them back into the center of the tray and counted again. The semimundane routine tasks at the pharmacy helped soothe her worries. The failure of the health fair was sixteen days behind her, and each day brought a little more acceptance than the one before it. There would be other opportunities. As much as the health fair disaster had felt like the end of the world, it wasn’t. She was still here working, helping.
The front door chimed as a customer entered.
“Good afternoon. Welcome to Greene’s,” Holly called out.
The man was about Lyle’s age and had thin gray hair. He had a folder in his hand and was wearing a striped blue dress shirt and a solid navy tie. He smiled as he walked toward the prescription drop-off area. While headed her way, he glanced behind the counter. “Good afternoon, young lady. My name is David Roberts, and I’m from the Pennsylvania State Board of Pharmacy. Is Lyle about?”
Board of Pharmacy? Lyle once told her that several of his pharmacy school classmates were on the board, and since they knew him personally, they understood his regulation-abiding mind-set. So the board didn’t bother to inspect Greene’s often. This was her first time to see anyone from the board in Greene’s Pharmacy. Was David here to check on Lyle after his stroke?
All things considered, Lyle was doing really well. Even though he’d had his stroke just three weeks earlier, he’d begun working in the over-the-counter section of the pharmacy a few days ago, albeit very slowly and carefully. No one wanted him to slow down his recovery time or risk another injury, but keeping Lyle out of his beloved pharmacy was a fight they’d lost.
Lyle walked around one of the over-the-counter shelves filled with antacid medications and came to a stop behind the man and patted him on his shoulder. “David, good to see you. It appears you’ve met my lead tech of ten years, Holly Zook.” He looked at Holly. “David’s a board inspector.”
Could this visit mean they’d done something wrong? The laws for pharmacies were plenteous and strict. It came to her why he might be here. Pharmacy hours had to be listed in numerous places, the front door and online being the most common, and the pharmacy had to be open during those hours with a licensed pharmacist on duty. But Greene’s had closed for several hours the morning of Lyle’s stroke until the relief pharmacist could arrive. But surely the board could understand a medical emergency.
“Good to see you, Lyle.” David smiled as he returned Lyle’s shoulder pat. “Wow. You look much better than I expected.”
“Thanks. I think that’s a compliment.” Lyle chuckled. “Hope I’m still feeling well after you tell me why you’re here today. I take it this isn’t a social call.”
“It’s not.” David’s smile faltered. “But nothing is going on that we can’t figure out, I’m sure. Do you have a private place we can talk?”
“Absolutely. It’ll be a little cramped, but let’s step inside the break room.” He turned to Holly. “Get Brandon, please. I want the two of you to listen to this meeting as well.” He returned his attention to David. “I’m sure you understand. My memory hasn’t been as reliable as I would like it to be since the stroke.”
“Of course, Lyle.” David motioned with his hand. “After you.”
The two men went toward the break room, and Holly found Brandon sitting on a stool in the back of the prescription area, working on a stack of paperwork while muttering under his breath about insurance contracts.
“Brandon, a pharmacy board inspector is here. Your dad wants us all to meet in the break room.”
“Great.” Brandon sighed and pushed the stack of papers back.
It didn’t sound as if he thought it was great. Were they in trouble for closing the pharmacy the morning of Lyle’s stroke? Or was it something else entirely?
“Did he say why?” Brandon hopped off his stool and moved toward the gate.
Holly shook her head. “Not yet.”
“Guess we’ll find out.”
After they entered the break room, Lyle closed the door and introduced Brandon to David. The two shook hands.
“I think the last time I saw you was when your mom and dad had me over for dinner more than two decades ago.” David held his hand flat a few feet over the floor. “You were no taller than my hip.” His jovial smile faded as he tapped the file in his hand, and the four of them took seats around the table. “Okay. Let’s get to it. We have reason to believe Greene’s Pharmacy filled five medications without prescriptions—all for the same man on the same date.”
What? Holly couldn’t believe it. Why would Lyle fill a medicine without a prescription? Even in an emergency situation, he could call the Martel Clinic. Doc Jules or Doc Martel would return his call, regardless of the time or day of the week.
David pulled a sheet out of the folder, but he held on to it. “We’re looking at five prescriptions for one Sam Miller.”
Lyle’s eyes were wide. He took the paper from David and studied it, his face draining of color.
David gestured toward the sheet. “Each of the five scripts is missing the prescribing doctor’s NPI number, name, and phone number, and all we have on the patient is his name.”
“That’s serious, Dad. I know it is.” Brandon put a hand on his dad’s shoulder. “But don’t let it upset you. Breathe. Steady your heart. The most important thing is your health.”
Holly’s pulse thudded against her temples. “I’m not sure I fully understand what’s going on. Everyone in the pharmacy is meticulous about logging data. Lyle has trained all of us to be that way, but what’s the significance of information being missing?”
Lyle studied the paper. “The data would prove a doctor wrote the prescriptions. Otherwise it appears as if I wrote the scripts, and it’s illegal for any pharmacist to write a script.”
Illegal? Holly’s head spun. “But how would the board get the information on that sheet? Did someone from Greene’s contact them, saying this was handled illegally?” She looked from Lyle to the inspector.
“David isn’t at liberty to answer that question, Holly. It’s certainly possible someone from Greene’s contacted him,”—Lyle tapped his fingers on the table—“especially since we have relief pharmacists working here. Harris, Todd, and Adrienne. They could’ve felt it was their obligation to go to the board rather than come to me.”
Holly wanted to pound her fist on the table. “But whoever did this wanted to cause trouble for us. Who would go to the board rather than coming to you?” When Brandon’s name came to mind, she locked eyes with him.
He held up both hands. “Why are you looking at me?”
“Holly.” Lyle leaned in and put his hand over hers. “I doubt anyone’s out to get us. If someone sent in a report, they were trying to do the right thing, perhaps concerned their license could be in jeopardy if they didn’t report it. But a state board member has to come and inspect a pharmacy whenever the pharmacist-in-charge changes, and that happened within days of my stroke. A board member could’ve visited anytime in the last three weeks when we weren’t in the pharmacy. Maybe the file David has is from that visit.”
David cleared his throat. “All we need to focus on is finding out what happened regarding those five prescriptions. Although a board member coming to Greene’s is unusual, visits like this are a normal part of pharmacy operations. Remember when BB Drugs reported you about a decade ago? They had what they thought was a false prescription that you transferred to one of their stores. I came to see you and cleared the report the same day. I hope that’s the outcome today also.”
Lyle set the paper on the table. “It says here I filled them on Sunday, October fifteenth.” Lyle drew a deep breath and closed his eyes. “That’s the day I lost.”
“Lost?” David angled his head.
“Because of the stroke,” Lyle clarified.
“You had the stroke that day?” David asked.
“No, the stroke happened the day after, but I remember nothing of the day before.”
“Oh.” David’s eyes held concern.
Holly willed herself to sound calm. “Whether he remembers that day or not, I know that everything was handled within the legal guidelines, just like always.”
David grimaced while offering a faint smile. “I’m sure. I’ve known Lyle since we were in college, and I know you all run a good, honest business, but the board doesn’t operate on good faith. Still, we must have the hard copies of the scripts the patient brought from the doctor to prove that when Lyle filled them that Sunday, each one was legit and from a physician.”
“What happens if we don’t find the hard copies?” She had to ask, but surely they could find them.
“Fines and possibly a sanction,” Lyle mumbled. “As much as twenty-five thousand dollars per script. But worse than the fines is a sanction, which means the pharmacy is not allowed to dispense prescriptions, and that can be anywhere from a few days to a few years.”
Holly remembered the overdue bill from the medication supplier. With expenses like that, even if the sanction lasted only a few weeks, it wouldn’t matter. The pharmacy would close. Who knew regulations for pharmacies were this ridiculous?
David smiled, looking sympathetic. “When everyone feels ready, I’ll go with Brandon to the computer to see what a search of ‘Sam Miller’ reveals. Holly, you go with Lyle to the storage room and pull the printed copies of scripts for October fifteenth. Lyle will direct you from there. He knows where all the hard copies are filed.”
Holly knew where they were filed too, but she wasn’t going to correct him. “I’m sure this makes no difference, but with a name like Sam Miller and the fact that he came here to have a script filled, he’s likely to be Amish.” She gestured toward the door of the break room. “Let’s get started.” Her insides were spinning like a weather vane in a windstorm, but she feigned peace.
Lyle stood, looking as uneasy as she felt. All four of them went to the gated section of the pharmacy.
David and Brandon stopped at one of the computers while Lyle and Holly went to the storage room behind the pharmacy workstation. Holly waited as Lyle unlocked the door. He flicked on the lights, revealing stacks and stacks of boxes, each holding printouts of the scripts. There were more than two years of hard copies—some from doctors’ prescription pads and some digital prescription printouts—because the law required that a hard copy of the records be kept for two years.
She’d been in this room a lot over the years, filing the hard copies. It used to be easy, peaceful work, but this time the pharmacy could be at stake. What if they couldn’t find the scripts? After Lyle’s stroke she hadn’t filed the hard copies as usual. Days passed before she caught up on her routine work, and even then she was distracted by concerns over Lyle’s well-being and the preparations for the health fair. What if their search for the scripts yielded nothing and it was her fault?
She found the box marked October of this year, set it on the floor, and knelt. Lyle pulled up a step stool and sat beside her.
Sam Miller. Sam Miller. She had heard that name recently, but where? Suddenly the image came flooding back into her mind. Wet grass, a nearly empty health fair, tears, and a blond, handsome meddler named Josh Smucker listing names of influential Amish families he could reach. It was fairly likely that someone named Sam Miller in these parts was Amish. Was it possible Josh might know the right Sam Miller? And if he did, would that be useful in any way?