31
ROGER WAS IN a crappy mood when he went to work the next day. Not only had he been humiliated, degraded and dumped, he’d spent half the night puking up those Long Island–whatevers that he’d stupidly drunk. Now he had a massive headache that seemed to engulf his entire brain.
He was back in the real and ugly world. The world where he was a total loser. There was no Sims avatar to pump him up. There was just Emma, somewhere in the hospital laughing at him as she told her coworkers about last night.
Flushed at the thought of his actions being gossiped about throughout the hospital, Roger headed into the IT department and went straight to his desk. Maybe he’d hide there for a week, doing nothing but waiting for his embarrassment to go away.
Well, that was not to be. He looked at today’s list from the lawyers and grimaced. This was even more detailed than usual. It would take the entire day—another very long day—one he’d wanted to be over quickly and was instead going to drag on forever. He was beginning to feel like the modern-day version of a “gofer”—go fer this, go fer that—only his retrieval tasks were electronic.
Mentally he retreated into his safe zone as he readied himself for the first computer command of the day. In that safe zone, he could convince himself that he was doing something important. That his heroic efforts would save Manhattan Memorial from the clutches of the evil witch Nancy Lexington. That King Jacob would reward his efforts with a worthy prize—running the IT departments
of the combined hospitals.
Today’s first task, courtesy of Manhattan Memorial’s attorneys and the insurance company defending Conrad Westfield, together with Nancy Lexington attorneys, was to dig up any electronic records that Conrad Westfield had kept of Ronald Lexington’s surgery.
Fine. Roger would hunt down the files.
Still locked away in his safe zone, he punched the keys skillfully, entering the search using Ronald’s patient number, and waited for the systems to respond.
His walk down Fantasy Lane was interrupted by the message on his screen: File Not Found.
What? He lurched up in his seat. How could it be not found?
He double-and triple-checked the command he’d entered.
No keystroking errors.
He moved on, trying to search for different files on the same storage array. The list of files quickly populated the screen. How could these files be there but the one he was looking for missing? That answer would have to wait until he had more time. Time to restore the missing file from the off-site electronic backup the hospital maintained.
Roger typed in the URL in his Chrome browser window, entered his login credentials and waited for the authentication process to complete. Next, he went to the matching cloud-based backup drive for the storage array he was interested in, clicked on the directory he was seeking and looked for the date that would cover the operating room video of Ronald’s surgery. Many surgeons recorded some of their procedures, either for teaching purposes or for their own edification. Evidently, Conrad recorded all of his surgeries, often critiquing them personally as a way to perfect his craft. Well, good for him, and in this case, good for Manhattan Memorial.
Roger’s hands stopped in midair. There was an entire day missing from the sequence. And not just a random day—the day of Ronald Lexington’s surgery. Someone had intentionally deleted the video of that surgery, the original and the backup copies, as well.
Quickly Roger picked up the phone and called his contact at the law firm. Before the attorney could answer, Roger quickly hung up, rethinking his first impulse. He needed to discuss this with Jacob—in person. Someone was trying to sabotage the hospital’s legal defense. Roger had ways to find out who. He would offer his skills to Jacob, and when he handed him the name of the saboteur, Roger’s completion bonus coins would multiply tenfold.
He dialed Janet’s extension. She would have to find a way to get him on Jacob’s calendar today.
* * *
Janet let the phone call go to voice mail.
She was in the middle of something very important—talking to her daughter.
“What do you mean, the cabin burned down?” Diana demanded, sitting across the desk from her mother. “How do you know? How did it happen?”
“You don’t need answers to either of those questions,” Janet said, not mincing words. “Just know that it’s gone. No one else will read about it, except the upstate locals, because there’s no link tying us to the cabin.”
“Mom.” Diana leaned forward, tears glistening on her lashes. “I was born in that cabin. You’ve told me that story over and over. You raised me there till I was two, and then we went back all the time for weekend trips—just the two of us. I still drive up there sometimes when I need to get away. So do you. You wouldn’t be so cavalier about this if it were a surprise or an accident. What’s going on?”
Janet pulled out the sheet of paper Casey had given her.
Diana glanced at it, clearly puzzled. “A bunch of computer codes?”
“An encryption key. A page of computer codes. Each one represents one of the women Ronald slept with.” She pointed to a code halfway down. “I know that one’s mine. Those numbers are the numerical part of the cabin’s address.”
Diana paled. “Who gave this to you?”
“Forensic Instincts. They’re about to figure out the name and detailed background on every one of these women. I’ll be exposed—and worse, so will you. There are no options. I must find a way to delete my entry from this list. Plus, I have to destroy all my ties to Ronald—even the ones that break my heart.” Her expression softened. “All except my most precious one. You’re the one blessing he gave me that no one can ever take away.”