Nikki wasn’t so sure she wanted to hear any of those echoes.
The place felt so strange and beyond silent to her. When this was all done, another practice would fill this space. Maybe another psychologist. Perhaps a dentist or pediatrician, creating a more active and noisy suite. For now, though, there was the hush. And Josie’s sniffle. The box of tissues hadn’t been packed yet. Nikki pulled one and handed it to her. Heat waited for her to settle and continued gently, “But you can confirm the incident, right? I have an eyewitness, Joseph Barsotti, who says he walked in on an altercation in the waiting room.”
“Yes, two and a half weeks ago,” the receptionist said. “I can confirm that much because I was there. It was ugly. But I am ethically bound by the Health Insurance Portability and Accountability regulations not to disclose confidential patient names or records.”
“Well, Lon King was there. And you also confirmed that Fred Lobbrecht was there.”
“Yes, but they are deceased.” Josie choked up a little at that and took a moment to recover. “Our lawyers say it’s all right to cooperate about decedents. And I want to cooperate. But I can’t give you the names of anyone else who was there because they were patients and are living. Or could have been patients.”
“Explain that, if you don’t mind.”
“Even if someone wasn’t formally enrolled, their presence assumes a privileged doctor-patient relationship.”
“So you mean someone seeking help? Shopping doctors? A guardian, a visitor, what?”
“You can get what’s called an administrative subpoena, then I’d be free to answer all these questions and help you.”
“Thanks, Josie, I understand. I’ll do that.”
“Or, if you’d like, I can contact the individuals and see if they’ll give permission.”
“No, don’t.” Nikki said it sharply enough to make the woman flinch. She smiled and softened her voice. “Sorry, I just don’t want to set off any alarms for people unnecessarily.” Meaning, Don’t tip anyone off. “I’ll look into the subpoena, as you suggested.”
Heat paused before she left for one last look at the beige-and-creamy-vanilla room where she had cried, laughed, worried, sighed, and ultimately found a measure, if not of peace, at least of herself. No box could contain that, she thought as she closed the door. Nikki was glad she had stolen a few tissues for herself.
Rook had lunch waiting on her desk when she got back from her visit to York Avenue. “How did you know I’d be starved? And Spring Natural Kitchen, great.” Heat lifted the takeout lid. “And you got me my favorite.”
“Thai falafel salad, madame.”
“And what the hell is that?”
He held up his container. “Continuing today’s international salad motif with organic quinoa.”
“I have never seen you order quinoa.”
“Never knew how to pronounce it. Now that I do, turns out it’s delicious.”
After a few bites to cushion the dent, Nikki called the DA’s office to request whatever paper she needed to get past the HIPAA regs so she could get a full accounting of the incident in Lon King’s waiting room. As with the thread that had started with Nathan Levy’s visit to the ER, Heat wasn’t sure of the importance of Barsotti’s information. But the purpose of investigating wasn’t to decide instantly which data were important. You had to collect it all first before you knew. Sometimes it meant nothing. Sometimes it meant nothing for years. Heat thought of those twin lions outside the library, Patience and Fortitude. She didn’t need to conquer all things; just this one case would be nice.
“Sorry, Captain Heat,” said the assistant DA.