Page 67 of Crow's Haven
“Thank you,” she whispers.
“For what?” I ask, though I already fucking know.
“For bringing us all together,” she says.
When she steps closer, I wrap an arm around her waist again, resting my forehead against hers. I press a kiss to her lips, and remind her, “You are part of our family, Ladybug. Always remember that.”
I bring her hand to my mouth, kiss her knuckles, and murmur, “Once this shitstorm’s behind us, we’ll come back out here for a proper break. Just us. After the boys crash out, we take one of them boats out. River’s calm along this stretch.”
When she smiles back at me and nods, warmth floods my chest. “I’d like that,” she says, rubbing her cheek against my knuckles.
The wind picks up around us. Scout and Chase have already vanished into the tall grass, their laughter spilling out, light and playful. We stand there, two halves of a whole, reunited in the wilderness. It’s a brief reprieve from our problems andnothing more. But somehow just what we need to shore up our strength for what’s to come.
Chapter 21
Ladybug
Inervously pull my jacket tighter around me as Smoke and I step into the marble lobby of the Department of Justice. The high, arched windows are impressive. This architecture is designed to command respect. And it most certainly does.
Distant voices echo down the corridor. My heart thumps loud enough that I worry others can hear. Smoke’s hand presses briefly on my elbow, letting me know that he’s allowed to stay at my side because he is my attorney. I would have rather had Crow here for emotional support, but that wasn’t possible.
An agent at the front desk looks up and nods when Smoke presents his credentials.
“Ms. Carlin and counsel?” he asks, voice clipped.
“Yes,” Smoke responds curtly.
Without a pause, he gestures down a hallway. “Interview room two. Right this way.”
My stomach twists, but I force my shoulders back. We follow the agent down the hall. Smoke stays close beside me, his steps silent and sure. We turn a corner and glide through a glass door into a narrow room, where two agents are already sitting at a conference table. One is a tall woman in a navy suit, and the other is an older man with graying hair along each side of hishead. His name tag reads Markus Martin. They offer curt nods and handshakes.
“Ms. Carlin,” the female agent says, voice calm, eyes direct. “Please have a seat,” she gestures to a couple of chairs on the other side of the conference table. I sit down, careful not to let my legs shake. Smoke takes the other. The male agent props his notepad on the table.
My throat constricts. I inhale, lean forward, and set my palms flat. “Thank you for seeing me,” I say. My voice comes out steady although my pulse races.
The woman whose nametag reads Agent Angela Harper slides a copy of the warrant across the table. “This warrant was issued after the initial hospital report from Twin Rivers Medical Center. It alleges you failed to intervene when your patient went into cardiac arrest. What’s your response to these charges?”
I press my lips together, remembering Joshua’s pale face, the machines that monitored his vitals, and how horrible it felt when he flatlined. “I didn’t do anything wrong. There was already a nurse in the room when I arrived. I hit the emergency button immediately and the whole treatment team rushed in within seconds,” I say firmly. Smoke had instructed me not to say anything about the contaminated IV bags just yet.
Agent Harper’s pen hovers over her notepad. “We’ve reviewed the preliminary documents your attorney dropped off earlier today—your screenshots of vitals, the forum threads, and the communications your associates obtained. Our forensic IT department is currently investigating those for authenticity. Your attorney claimed that further evidence had been obtained. Can you tell us more Ms. Carlin?”
I glance at Smoke, who gives me a subtle nod. I lean in, my voice low but clear. “We suspect a contaminated IV bag was administered to my patient and it resulted in his death. The float nurse changed the bag while I was on break. I returned to find the patient coding. Everything I did afterward was per protocol. In the hospital records it stated that I was the one who changed the bag, but I was on a break then, which can be confirmed. The real error was the pharmaceutical company messed up a batch of IVs. I was just the person they chose to blame for the child’s death.”
“How did you arrive at the conclusion that the IV bag was contaminated?”
“After I was suspended, I looked on the online nursing forums. Initially I was searching to see if anyone had been suspended in the manner I had been, and what sort of legal recourse I was entitled to. Instead I found messages from several other nurses reporting suspicious incidents involving IV fluids from the same manufacturer. This was all in the information we submitted earlier.”
Smoke warned me to give short, concise answers and let the agents ask the questions. The DOJ office feels a little colder now. I try not to squirm in my seat as the agents quietly confer with each other. The agents carefully review the stacks of documents and screenshots I’ve provided.
Agent Harper’s eyes scan through the timeline in front of her, pausing periodically to jot notes in the margins. “Yes, we reviewed and verified that information. I just needed to hear you verify that you discovered the information yourself independently.”
Beside her, Agent Martin nods slowly, turning pages quietly. Their silence is unnerving because they’re using simple words and cryptic phrases to talk in front of us.
Smoke shifts slightly, leaning in. “Take your time, agents. We’re here to clear up any confusion you might have. As you see, my client is entirely innocent of all charges, the email from the hospital’s CEO to the DON is sufficient to prove that. He clearly states that they intend to frame Ms. Carlin for the death. But this is part of a wider conspiracy to cover up extreme medical mismanagement, fraud, and a public health scandal, which could affect other hospitals in the county.”
They keep us in the conference room for close to two hours, asking for clarification and additional information on all the details. It’s nerve-wracking.
Finally, the questions stop, and Agent Martin taps a paper gently, thoughtful. “Your screenshots and logs line up exactly with the timeline we’ve independently reconstructed. Your return from break, your immediate actions during the code, it all checks out,” he pauses, flipping another page. “Also, the email communications between hospital leadership and the pharmaceutical company are deeply troubling.”
