Page 44 of Borrowed Pain
T—they're watching the Gardner case. Be careful with your inquiries. —P
Miles leaned closer. "Did two people pass this notebook back and forth? P?"
I flipped through more pages, finding similar notations scattered throughout like secret messages passed in high school—each one warning or comforting or providing information.
It's worse. Not erasing—rewiring. Stay safe. —P
Someone's cleaning house. I love you. —P
"These aren't research notes," Miles said quietly. "These are love letters."
I opened my laptop and ran a few quick cipher checks, more out of habit than hope.
"Wait." Miles pointed at the notebook. "Look at the sentence structure. This is how people communicate when they're under surveillance. Essential information first, personal connection second."
"You can read psychological patterns in handwriting?"
"I can read stress patterns in communication. These people are terrified but trying to maintain an emotional connection." Miles looked up from the notebook. "They're partners. Personal partners."
I started cross-referencing names from Rook's entries with state employee databases, looking for anyone with access to the kind of information these messages contained. P had institutional access.
"P could be anyone," I muttered.
"No." Miles read another margin note, frowning. He showed me what he found.
The Seattle therapist who called about Delacroix—they're tracking his inquiries. Flag him as potential ally. —P
He stared at me. "Who would have that kind of access?"
"I—" I pulled up the Washington State Department of Health employee directory, fingers flying across the keyboard until I found what I was looking for.
"Dr. Patricia Hendricks, Healthcare Facility Licensing."
Miles stared at the screen showing Hendricks's official photo—the woman who'd dismissed us with bureaucratic condescension three days ago. The same woman who'd protected Riverside's reputation while claiming to investigate our concerns.
"She's been playing both sides," Miles said slowly.
I pulled up more margin notes, reading them in the new context.
Your therapist contact called the state office again. I had to deflect. —P
The facility inspection reports are all fabricated. I have the real documentation hidden. —P
18 months since Delacroix suicide. Therapist is still asking questions. We might need his help. —P
My mind reeled as I leaned back in my chair. "She wasn't dismissing us to protect Riverside. She was dismissing us to protect herself."
"And to protect Rook."
"We misread her," I said.
Miles pulled up our recording from the state office meeting. "Remember how she kept checking her computer while we talked? And how she had that formal complaint ready before we'd even finished explaining?"
I remembered. The pre-printed form, the practiced deflection, and how she'd guided us toward official channels that she knew would lead nowhere.
My thoughts tumbled out of my mouth. "She was protecting the investigation. It would have blown her cover if she'd appeared too interested in our allegations."
"And gotten Rook killed." Miles found another margin note that made his breath catch.
