Page 61 of Crow's Haven
Smoke’s pen taps twice. “When you arrived at Joshua’s room, what did you see?”
I let out a breath. “The door was half open. I pushed it fully and saw monitors flatlining. His color was pale, his chest motionless. Carla was in the back of the room gloving up. I just jumped into action without giving it a second thought, and pressed the code button on the wall, shouted for help, then leaned over him, starting chest compressions.”
Zen raises one eyebrow. “Did the rest of the team arrive quickly?”
I nod, my voice confident. “In under thirty seconds. The respiratory therapist arrived first with an intubation kit, and several others were right on her heels. Dr. Brunell, the pediatric cardiologist, took the lead once he arrived a minute or so later. I switched to bag valve mask ventilation and monitored compressions until the doctor ordered epinephrine.” I pause,swallowing. “We administered two doses. At some point, Carla disappeared. We tried shocking him, but it wasn’t enough.”
Rigs’ eyes soften. “Were there any signs you or Carla missed before the code?”
“No,” I say firmly. “His chart from my shift showed no downward trends. No meds were skipped, the monitor readouts verified his vitals never dipped below expected levels considering his overall condition. Every protocol was followed. I have the timestamped logs here.” I show them a second screenshot on my phone. “See the window log? It records system lockout at 3:16, immediately after I logged back in.” I clear my throat. “I retrieved those screenshots seconds after it happened and before they removed me from the system.”
Siege’s jaw tightens. “The hospital blames you for negligence, correct?”
My throat constricts. “Yes. They claim I delayed reporting, that I triaged incorrectly. They allege I waited too long to call the code. None of it is true.” My voice catches. “I reported within two seconds of seeing the flatline. The nurses’ station logs confirm the code button press at 3:16:12. They know the timeline, but I guess they must have needed a scapegoat.”
Zen’s eyes linger on the images. “Why would they push that narrative?”
I glance away, my heart pounding. “I don’t know, maybe because of insurance liability or fear of lawsuits from the family. I even suspected at one point that they may be covering for surgical complications. If Joshua’s graft failed, they need to shift blame.”
“But you don’t suspect that now?” Smoke asks.
Pausing for a second to organize my thoughts, I tell them what I think happened. “The only strange thing I saw in the chart was his IV was changed out while I was on break, but my employee number was entered into the system. We normally scan our badges in for each med administration, but I had my card with me. That means someone intentionally entered my employee number by hand. The more I thought about it, the more I started to wonder if it was a bad batch of IV fluids, maybe containing some kind of foreign contaminant.”
Smoke taps his pen on his notepad. “So, the only variable in Joshua’s care that afternoon was that IV bag.”
I inhale, feeling my pulse speed up. This is the moment I realize there could be something more sinister than hospital politics. “I dug into it,” I say, voice low. “After I left here that night, I searched nursing forums, internal message boards, even the FDA recall page. I found posts from at least three other nurses mentioning sudden adverse reactions in immunocompromised patients after that manufacturer’s batch was used.”
Zen’s head jerks up. “How many cases are we talking?”
I count on my fingers. “Four more that I could track. Two adults in oncology wards. One bone marrow transplant patient. And a three-year-old leukemia patient who coded within minutes of the IV fluids being started. All of them within seventy-two hours of that batch’s release.”
Rigs’ brow furrows. “Have you preserved those posts?”
I nod. “Screenshots, timestamps, thread links. I’ve compiled them into a folder.” I pull it up on my phone and pass it to Zen. “You can download the information and reviewit if you like.” He takes the device, thumbs whirring to open the documents. “I highlighted the critical passages.”
Siege leans forward. “What does it suggest to you?”
I trace the outline of my coffee cup on the table. “That bag may have been contaminated. Not visibly, but maybe a bacterial toxin or something inside. It might explain why a child with stable vitals crashed so suddenly. I followed protocol as did the rest of the medical team. He coded within a minute of the infusion starting.”
Smoke glances between me and Zen. “If that’s true, it’s medical malpractice on a massive scale and possibly with criminal intent before or after the fact.” He taps his notebook. “We need to know whether the hospital discovered any irregularities before blaming you.”
Zen hands my phone back. “The forums mention an anonymous whistleblower email sent to a regional rep. That was two days before Joshua’s code. No official recall notice appeared.”
Crow’s hand finds mine under the table. He squeezes gently. “So, the hospital might have known and decided to bury it.”
I nod, voice tight. “They could have swept everything under the rug by making me the face of negligence.” My eyes sweep across the room. “I’m not a conspiracy theorist, but when the only thing that changed is that IV bag, it’s hard to chalk it up to anything else.”
Rigs’ lips press into a thin line. “What can we do with this information?”
Smoke jots more notes. “We catalogue every possible lead—the batch number, the manufacturing date, the nursing forum posts, that whistleblower tip. Then we verify system logs to see if the hospital notified staff internally. If they sat on this, they’re liable.”
Zen lifts his tablet. “I’ll pull the hospital’s inventory logs tonight and cross-reference the serial numbers. If that bag was flagged in any way, the database will show it. If not, we’ll look for gaps, missing entries, manual overrides, sudden note deletions.”
Siege leans forward, voice measured. “We also need to consider motive. Insurance settlements, medical board reputation, lawsuits. If they blamed you quickly, they reduced their risk.”
I inhale, feeling a spark of hope in my chest. “We could also reach out to the families of the other victims.” The room goes silent for a moment. “They deserve answers, too. And who knows what they’re aware of regarding the deaths of their loved ones. Maybe they have useful information to add.”
Smoke looks up, nodding. “We’ll draft a list of potential witnesses and contact information.” He glances at Zen. “Get me all the logs you can find.” Zen taps his tablet.
