Chapter 2 - The Date That Was Never Supposed to Happen
Tessa drove through the rain with both hands locked around the steering wheel.
Leo sat beside her in the passenger seat of her old Honda Civic, his broad shoulders nearly touching the window.
He had offered his armored SUV.
She had refused.
“My car. My father. My rules.”
He hadn't argued.
Now, the dashboard clock read 8:17, and the windshield wipers struggled against the downpour.
“Tell me what you know,” Tessa demanded.
Leo looked at the road.
“Greg Davis works for a company that evaluates long-term-care insurance contracts. Some of those contracts involve a charitable fund I established.”
“Hawthorne Care?”
“Yes.”
Hawthorne was the private facility where her father had lived for eleven months.
Arthur Jenkins had suffered a devastating stroke at sixty-two. The former building inspector could still recognize his daughter, understand conversations, and sometimes speak a few difficult words. But he needed daily therapy and assistance with basic tasks.
Tessa had spent her savings getting him into Hawthorne.
She had never known Leo's foundation helped finance it.
“Why didn't you tell me?” she asked.
“Because I didn't think the connection mattered.”
“Everything involving my father matters.”
Leo accepted that without answering.
At the next intersection, Tessa's phone rang.
An unfamiliar number.
She put it on speaker.
“Miss Jenkins?” a woman asked. “This is Maureen Pike, administrator at Hawthorne Care. Your father's been transferred to another facility.”
Tessa almost missed the green light.
“Transferred where?”
“Due to an administrative determination, we had to make alternative arrangements.”
“Where is my father?”
“I'm not authorized to discuss the specifics over the phone.”
“I'm his daughter and legal healthcare representative!”
Maureen hesitated.
Then she ended the call.
Tessa stared at the dark screen.
Leo reached for his own phone.
“Don't,” she snapped.
He stopped.
“You cannot make this disappear with one of your phone calls.”
“I was going to contact my attorney.”
“Then tell me that.”
Leo nodded.
“Understood.”
They reached Hawthorne at 8:36.
The modern brick building stood behind a landscaped courtyard and a row of maple trees. Normally, the windows glowed warmly.
Tonight, half the building was dark.
An ambulance waited near the loading entrance.
Tessa abandoned her car in the visitor lot and hurried inside.
The receptionist, a nervous young woman named Emily, immediately looked toward the security guard.
“Miss Jenkins. You weren't supposed to come tonight.”
Tessa stopped.
“Why?”
Emily's lips trembled.
Before she could answer, Maureen Pike emerged from a hallway.
The administrator wore a perfectly pressed navy pantsuit and an expression of professional sympathy.
“Tessa. I'm sorry you had to hear the news this way.”
“Where is my father?”
“His care needs have changed.”
“According to which doctor?”
Maureen folded her hands.
“We can discuss the documentation Monday.”
“No.”
Tessa placed her healthcare power-of-attorney card on the reception counter.
“We discuss it now.”
Maureen's gaze shifted behind her.
Leo had entered the lobby.
Recognition flashed across the administrator's face.
“Mr. Santoro.”
His expression was unreadable.
“Where is Arthur Jenkins?”
Maureen swallowed.
“There's been a misunderstanding.”
“Then clear it up,” Leo said.
Tessa caught his arm.
“Let her answer me.”
Leo stepped back.
Maureen glanced at the security guard.
Arthur Jenkins had supposedly been moved to a rehabilitation center outside Philadelphia.
But there was no ambulance record.
No physician's transfer order.
No receiving nurse's signature.
Tessa knew what a legitimate transfer required.
Before taking the Santoro housekeeping job, she had worked in patient scheduling at a rehabilitation clinic. She had lost that position when her father's illness forced her to miss too many shifts.
“You haven't transferred him,” she said.
Maureen's face tightened.
“You don't understand the administrative process.”
“I understand you're lying.”
A quiet voice came from the hallway.
“She's telling the truth.”
Greg Davis stood beside a vending machine.
His beige sweater was soaked.
There was a fresh bruise along his cheekbone.
Tessa stared at him.
“What happened to you?”
Greg approached cautiously.
“I followed a transportation van here. Two men caught me taking pictures.”
“Why were you following a van?”
He looked at Leo.
Then back at Tessa.
“Because I found something wrong with the insurance data.”
Maureen moved toward him.
“Mr. Davis, you're not authorized to be here.”
Greg ignored her.
“My firm was asked to evaluate whether Hawthorne's residents were becoming too expensive to insure. But the records don't match the residents.”
“What does that mean?” Tessa asked.
Greg swallowed.
“Some patients are listed as transferred even though they're still here. Some have had their medical histories changed. The financial statements show money being spent on care that the staff say they never provided.”
Tessa looked at Maureen.
“Where is my dad?”
The administrator said nothing.
Greg lowered his voice.
“I think they're clearing out residents who can contradict the records.”
A door opened at the end of the hallway.
An elderly nurse stepped out.
Her name was Rosa Martinez.
Tessa knew her well.
Rosa had once stayed two hours beyond her shift so Arthur wouldn't have to spend his birthday alone.
She looked exhausted.
And furious.
“Arthur's still here,” Rosa said.
Tessa nearly collapsed with relief.
“He's in the basement therapy room. They took his phone and disconnected the call button.”
Maureen spun toward her.
“You're fired.”
Rosa didn't flinch.
“Then I guess I'll finally get a weekend off.”
Tessa ran.
Leo followed several feet behind her while Greg stayed with Rosa.
At the bottom of the stairs, Tessa found a locked therapy room.
“Dad!”
A faint tapping answered.
Three knocks.
Their old signal.
When Tessa was little, Arthur had tapped three times on her bedroom door before entering.
She pressed her forehead against the glass.
“Dad, I'm here.”
Inside, Arthur sat in his wheelchair.
His face was pale.
His left hand rested on the wheel.
He raised his right hand with visible effort.
Then he pointed toward the floor.
Tessa followed his gesture.
A small black notebook lay beneath the wheelchair.
Leo stopped beside her.
“What's that?”
Tessa stared.
Her father had carried a notebook throughout his entire career as a building inspector.
He wrote down every problem he found.
Every unsafe staircase.
Every broken alarm.
Every contractor who tried to buy his silence.
He had continued using notebooks after the stroke, practicing letters during therapy.
Tessa tried the door.
Locked.
Leo held out a key.
“Rosa gave me the master.”
She took it from him herself.
When she opened the door, Arthur began crying.
Tessa dropped to her knees and wrapped her arms around him.
“I'm here, Daddy.”
His trembling hand touched her hair.
Then he looked past her at Leo.
Fear entered his eyes.
He struggled to speak.
“S-Santoro.”
Tessa pulled back.
“Dad?”
Arthur pointed at the notebook.
May you like
Then, with tremendous effort, he managed three words.
“Don't trust him.”
