Lizzie
Lizzie and Murphy started on the medical files the next morning. Lizzie had brought donuts, despite Murphy’s concern over her weight. Lizzie’s metabolism could absorb donuts without her gaining a pound. She hoped it wouldn’t catch up with her in middle age.
They split up the list, working on laptops at the long table in the main office. They could have worked separately, but this seemed more efficient. Also, more entertaining.
“Pregnant twenty-three-year-old,” Murphy said. “Fifth child. Damn.”
“Catholic or evangelical?” Lizzie asked. “Or ultra-orthodox Jew.”
Murphy snorted. “Not too likely to be Jewish. It’s Texas. Institute of Basic Life Principles, most likely. You remember the Duggars? A number of churches follow those principles. They propagate like rabbits. Stupid child. Five children and she’s barely an adult.”
“Did she die?”
“No.”
“Then I’m not interested. Keep looking.”
Lizzie found mostly routine case notes. Young women with uncomplicated pregnancies. One forty-year-old woman on bed rest. Various older women with conditions that had nothing to do with pregnancy.
Then Murphy spoke softly. “Bingo.”
Ashley Wise. Thirty years old. Routine pregnancy until it wasn’t. She’d been eighteen weeks pregnant with her first baby when she’d started bleeding uncontrollably. By the time she reached the hospital ER, she’d bled out.
Murphy shook her head. “So young.”
Ashley had been only a few years older than Lizzie. Was this the case that had finally prompted Dr. Tom Martin to get out of Texas? “Any indication that denying her an abortion caused her death?”
“Nothing that I’ve found. The records read as if nothing could have been done. By the time she got to the hospital, she was gone.”
“Because it doesn’t make sense if it happened like this. Does it to you?” Lizzie was puzzled. It was the right time frame. There were no other deaths of pregnant women. “Because why suddenly decide to leave? And why would Julia Martin mention abortion and a patient’s death as the reason for Tom’s job search?”
“Could there be someone else?”
“I haven’t found any other deaths,” Lizzie said. “Have you?”
“No. But I haven’t finished.”
They spent another hour scrolling through the records. Only one other death in the time frame: a sixty-year-old whose cervical cancer hadn’t been caught in time.
They returned to Ashley Wise.
“Maybe the records were deleted or changed? It’s not easy to do, but it can be done.”
Lizzie peered at the screen. “Would you be able to tell?”
“Maybe. If I had access to the original computer. But it’s from months ago, if it happened, and I’m not that good on computers. Not if the person deleting or changing records knew what she was doing. Which I would assume would be the case. Tampering with medical records violates all sorts of laws. I have another idea.” Murphy minimized the screen and did a search. “She worked on one of the local television stations. This is her on TikTok a couple weeks before her death.”
With a glowing smile, Ashley announced her pregnancy. Arm around her, her husband David beamed at the screen.
“Nice looking couple,” Murphy said.
David Wise was as good-looking as his wife. And looked just as happy. He wore a chain with a Hebrew symbol around his neck, a chai. So, Jewish.
“Heartbreaking.”
There were videos on YouTube of some of the stories she’d covered. Mostly feel-good stories. About a ninety-eight-year-old substitute teacher. About twins who had discovered each other fifty years after both had been adopted. About a rescue organization that took in abused or neglected horses.
Lizzie marked down the name of the rescue organization. She liked horses.
“Another thought.” Murphy clicked onto the site for the county clerk’s office. Another five minutes and she pulled up a filing. “Wise v. Martin.”
Lizzie leaned in. “So, David filed a lawsuit.”
“Apparently. The hospital and Brenda Phillips are also named.”
“Can you get a copy of the complaint?”
Murphy clicked a few more times. “Under seal.”
“Well damn. Maybe I’ll have a chat with David Wise?” Despite herself, Lizzie noted that he had an attractive face. Body wasn’t bad either. Still, he’d lost his wife and their child only six months ago—and such thoughts were inappropriate.
“Sounds like a plan. Only Mr. Glock and I are coming with you.”
Lizzie laughed and waved off Murphy’s concern. “I’m tougher than I look.”
“I mean it. Who would have a better motive to kill than a grieving husband who blames Martin for her death? In which case, he’s dangerous. In which case, I don’t care how tough you are or what you’ve done, you need back up. Because you don’t have eyes in the back of your head.”