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Ann stared at the decoded message, then the discharge papers, willing the signature on the latter to change, to morph into someone else’s handwriting, or a scribbled just kidding or something. Anything.
She finally let the paper drop from her hand. It floated to the edge of the table and onto the floor. She sat up straight. What if he hadn’t signed it willingly?
Scenarios flashed through her mind. None of them made sense. What pull did her father have in the psychological world, or in the adoption world? She put it aside for now. She needed to focus on Teresa, on the case, and the fact that, despite killing her mother and baby, she had been freed.
And Ann’s dad had freed her.
Ann consulted the phone book and dialed the number for Mountain View. A receptionist answered.
“This is Detective Ann Logan. May I speak with your privacy officer please?”
The hold music blared in her ear. After a few seconds, a man answered. Ann introduced herself again.
“I’m investigating a serial kidnapping and homicide case in Harmony. Will you or did you receive a patient by the name of Teresa Hart?”
“I’m sorry, ma’am,” the man on the phone said. “Under HIPAA, I’m not allowed to disclose that information.”
Ann suppressed a growl. Instead, she said through her teeth, “Lives are at stake here, sir.”
“There’s nothing I can do. Laws are laws.” She could hear the dismissive shrug in his voice.
“I’m fairly certain you’re allowed to disclose information to a law enforcement officer. Can you check the protocol?”
Humanity is at stake!
After a brief silence and a sigh, he said, “Sure. Hold on.”
The rambunctious hold music came back on. Ann bit her thumbnail and bounced her knee while she waited.
“Hello?” a different voice said. “Are you the one holding regarding HIPAA protocol?”
“Yes.” Ann gripped the phone harder.
“This is Dr. Smith, chief administrator of the hospital,” he said. “I apologize for the delay. The privacy officer hasn’t yet learned the protocol for enforcing HIPAA laws. He frequently says no—almost like a knee jerk reaction—without considering extraneous circumstances.”
Ann perked up and pinched her lip.
He cleared his throat. “Now, we can disclose the information to you, provided you fax us the proper form. I believe you can find it on our website. It’s the one called Law Enforcement Official’s Request for Protected Health Information.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Ann muttered.
“I’m afraid not,” the administrator said. “Laws are laws. As you well know.”
“I understand,” Ann said.
“Now, if the person in question does arrive at our facility and agrees to disclosing her personal information, we can call you and let you know.”
As if Teresa would want to disclose to the Castle County Sheriff’s office she was at a mental health facility. Ann gave him her phone number anyway, along with an ungrateful thank you.
She hung up and sat on the couch. There wasn’t time for this.
Her father’s fake signature stared at her.
Think, Ann. What are you missing?
Her keen attention to detail in the Salida Stabber case had identified one seemingly insignificant clue overlooked by the other detectives. A detail that had led her to the Stabber.
Ann sorted through the clues and evidence. Then reread her notes about the seven bloods.
Ancient, pure, tainted, loving servant, bastard, blind fool, devoted.
Nothing stuck out. She sorted through the contents of her dad’s lock box again.
Ticket stubs to Egypt. Same flight number on different days or years. The list of names with Louise’s right on top. A list Louise claimed to know nothing about.
Ann wanted to believe her father left these items together for her to find, especially since the tabula recta was included. He knew she’d tie them together. He had to know.
Ann picked up the phone again and called Joey.
“Joey. I need another favor.”
“Sure, sure. And what’s in it for me this time?”
“My everlasting love if what you find is what I think you’ll find.”
He laughed. “You know I’d do anything for you.”
“I need you to find the passenger manifests for the following Lufthansa flights.” She gave him the flight numbers and dates. “How soon can you get those?”
“I’ve already hacked into the system. Do you want to stay on the line?”
“Sure.”
A couple minutes passed. She paced to the sound of his clacking keyboard. A final hard tap.
“Done.”
“Can you search for these names?” She read him the list.
“None of them were on any of these flights.”
Ann slumped onto the couch. “What about any other Lufthansa flights?”
Clickity clackity.
“All of these people were on a recent flight to Egypt—like three months ago.”
Ann’s heart picked up. It was a wild guess, but she had to ask. “What about my dad? Bram Logan.”
“He booked it but didn’t check in.”
Ann thought her head was going to explode.
“Oh . . . it looks like one of the other people you asked about also didn’t check in. Louise Marga.”
“Loony Lou?”
“If you say so.”
“Thanks, Joey. Thank you so much. You’ve been incredibly helpful.” She hung up. Her dad was supposed to be on a flight just three months ago. Did that mean he’d been alive all those times she tried to call him? A brick of despair dropped into her gut. Raghib had said the Protectors had been forced into hiding. They left their families to protect them. And her dad, himself, said in the video it was all for the plan in the video.
She turned on the TV and hit play on the DVD remote. She watched it twice before she noticed something about his eyes, and how, at the beginning of the video he scratched his eye. But, no. He didn’t scratch it. She thought he scratched it. Really, all he did was subtly point at his eye. She stared at his eyes and listened to what he said. Sometimes he blinked slow, sometimes fast. She paid close attention to what he said and his corresponding blinks.
At the end, she sat back, butt on her heels, and stared at the DVD menu screen. She hit play one more time.
If you’re watching this, I’m probably dead. Long blink, fast blink. Morse code for N.
I took care of both records. Long blink, fast blink, long, long. Morse code for Y.
Maybe it was a stretch, but her father knew her attention to detail. He knew she would catch his subtle hints.
If you’re watching this, Raghib followed my instructions and contacted you. You can trust him. Long. Fast. Ann’s heart rate picked up. She rewound the DVD and stared at his eyes.
You can trust him. Long. Fast.
N. No.
She couldn’t trust Raghib. And he had Maggie.