Gary had laid out the digital audit trail, showing every access log for Ben’s electronic chart.
“The digital signature on the alteration belongs to Dr. Paulson, dated the day after you inherited the estate,” Gary said.
Dr. Vance turned her chair slightly, facing Dr. Paulson.
“Dr. Paulson, did you write the order to alter these oncology reports?” Dr. Vance asked.
Paulson looked at the door, then at the two other hospital administrators who were now writing in their own notebooks.
“I was under significant pressure,” Dr. Paulson said, his voice barely audible.
“Mr. Cole’s construction firm held a promissory note on my personal residence, and he threatened to foreclose if I did not assist with the diagnostic certification,” Paulson said.
“He told me it was a private family matter to secure a trust release,” Paulson said.
“A trust release for eighty-five thousand dollars,” Gary said, his pen hovering over his legal pad.
The room went quiet, save for the hum of the ventilation system.
I looked at Ben, but he was staring at his own hands, his knuckles white.
“He told me he would clear the debt,” Dr. Paulson whispered, his head bowed.
“I had no choice,” Paulson said.
By mid-afternoon, the coffee in the glass carafe had turned cold.
The hospital administrators had finished their review of the billing logs and the digital access keys.
Dr. Vance stood up, her chair scraping against the linoleum floor.
“Dr. Paulson, you are suspended from all clinical duties effective immediately,” she said.
“The hospital will cooperate fully with the state police and the medical licensing board,” Vance said.
“We will also be handing over these billing logs to the state attorney general’s fraud division by noon today,” Vance said.
Paulson did not move, his eyes fixed on his gold pen as it rolled slowly across the oak table and stopped against the metal rim of the water pitcher.
“And as for you, Mr. Cole,” Dr. Vance said, looking down at Ben.
“Your discharge papers are being processed now,” she said.
“You will be cleared to leave the facility within the hour, accompanied by the county sheriff’s deputy who is waiting in the hallway,” Vance said.
Ben’s lawyer stood up, smoothing his suit jacket.
“We have nothing further to say at this time,” Mr. Miller said, pulling his briefcase off the table.
Ben remained in his chair, his shoulders dropping as he leaned back against the vinyl padding.
His face was not pale anymore, just dark with a quiet, sullen anger that I had never seen in all our years of Sunday dinners and lawn mowing.
“You’re going to lose the house anyway, Clara,” Ben said, his voice barely a whisper as his lawyer pulled him toward the door.
“The creditors will have the deed by Christmas,” Ben said.
“Gary has already filed the asset freeze, Ben,” I said.
He did not look back as the heavy oak door clicked shut behind him, leaving only the smell of cold coffee in the room.
Dr. Vance and the administrators gathered their folders and walked out of the room, leaving the heavy oak door to click shut behind them.
The room smelled of stale coffee and cold air from the vents.
