“No, the record on the system didn’t indicate that.”
White and Andrews joined Decker, who asked the woman, “What does the record indicate?”
“That she was processed and admitted, but no room was assigned.”
“Has that ever happened before?” asked White.
“Um, no, I mean, not very often.”
“And when it did happen, what was the reason?” asked Decker.
“That the person refused the admission for some reason. In other words, that they left AMA, against medical advice.”
Decker said, “Where is the admitting done? We need to go there right now.”
“But you can’t, it’s only for—”
White, who was obviously as out of patience as Decker, held up her badge and barked, “This says that you take us there now or you will be arrested for obstruction of justice.”
The woman looked near tears. “Oh my God.” She jumped up and said, “It’s this way.”
They followed her through a secure door, which she opened by holding a security card to the reader port on the wall.
They hurried down a long corridor and through another secure door. Laid out in front of them were a series of cubicles where people were inputting information into computers as other people sat in chairs next to them. Some folks were on gurneys parked against the wall. EMTs were standing next to some of them, apparently waiting for confirmation of their patient’s status.
“This is the Admissions Office,” she said.
Decker glanced around and then hustled over to a woman who was just getting up from her desk.
“We’re looking for an Alice Lancer. She was just admitted here.”
“I don’t know who that is.”
Another woman, sitting in the next cubicle, said, “She’s gone.”
Decker looked over at her. “Gone? Did she refuse admission?”
“No. Two police detectives came and took her away.”
Chapter 18
“I’ve got an APB out,” said Andrews. “And I’ve spoken to the Coral Gables Police. They have no information about a woman being taken from Harden Hospital by their people.”
They were in the car outside the hospital.
White said, “So the detectives were bogus? The hospital staff said their badges looked real and Lancer went with them.”
“At this point it doesn’t look like they were legit,” said Andrews. “What the hell is going on?” He eyed Decker, who was in the rear seat staring moodily out the window. “Any thoughts, Decker?” he asked.
“Clearly the lady didn’t want to meet with us.”
“You mean she faked the faint and then escaped from the hospital with the help of a couple of buddies?” said White.
Decker continued to look out the window. “It wasn’t just her and a couple of buddies. It’s not easy to pull something like this together that fast. You’d need resources that can act on the fly. And contingency plans.”
Andrews said, “You don’t think Gamma is involved in this, do you?”
“We didn’t get to talk to apparently the only woman at Gamma who can tell us anything. And now we’re out here and they’re safely back in their little cocoon.”
“Roe said they would provide copies of their records,” countered Andrews.
“No, she didn’t. She said corporate counsel would determine whether they could provide us anything,” corrected Decker.
Andrews started and said, “Right, I guess that is what she told us.”
“So don’t be surprised if that counsel tells us Gamma can’t provide the documents without going to court. And we all know how long that bullshit takes. The strategy of running out the legal clock has become pretty popular. And by then it may be too late.” He turned to look at Andrews. “And when you called for an appointment with Roe, they had a chance to prepare. Whether it was just Lancer or some or all of them, I don’t know. But they acted fast.”
Andrews looked at White. “What do you think?”
“I think the question is, if we can’t get the info we need from Gamma on a timely basis, where do we get it?”
Decker said, “Presumably the judge would have some documentation of the threats. They weren’t found in her house, correct? Or on her answering machine, if she even had one.”
Andrews said, “They weren’t. But we’re still checking her cell phone and computers.”
“Then we might have to get them from the court,” said Decker.
“I’ll need to speak to our legal counsel,” noted Andrews.
“I didn’t mean that court, I meant Judge Cummins’s chambers. The evidence might be there. And there are people she worked with we need to talk to.”
“I was planning to do that,” said Andrews.
“And pull any CCTV footage from the hospital. We might get a look at the guys who sprang Lancer.”
“Okay, I’ll get on that.”
“And while we’re in the area, let’s go see where Alice Lancer lives.”
“We don’t have her address,” said Andrews.
“Yes we do,” said Decker.
“How?”
“I saw it on her admittance form to the hospital.”
“You remember it correctly?” asked Andrews.
“I wouldn’t worry about that,” interjected White.
“We don’t have a search warrant,” pointed out Andrews.
“She’s gone missing. Can we get by on a welfare check?” said Decker.
“I doubt that. And the locals do that, not the FBI.”
“She’s a potential witness in the murder of a federal judge.”
“Doesn’t matter. And to be clear, I’m not screwing up any prosecutions on a rookie Fourth Amendment fuckup.”
Decker looked at the man with a little more respect.
Lancer lived in the village of Miami Shores, a half-hour commute north of the Gamma Building. It was a village of well-kept-up single-family dwellings, a couple of small commercial areas, wide streets, and lots of trees residing along them.
“It’s a bedroom community for Greater Miami,” explained Andrews. “And also has a lot of retirees. But you could say that about most places in Florida. You ever think about retiring here, Decker?”
“No. How much farther to her place?”
“It’s the next street.”
They turned into the driveway of a small bungalow with stucco siding and green-and-white-striped awnings over the windows. A short, squat palm was planted out front. The grass was clipped short, and the flower beds didn’t have much in them. They got out, and Decker looked through the window of the one-car garage.
“Empty. Her car must be at work still.”
“We don’t have a search warrant, like I pointed out before,” noted Andrews.
“But we can look around, right?” said Decker. “Until you file for and get a search warrant?”
“Yes. On the outside. And in plain sight.”
They made a perimeter search of the yard and found that Lancer didn’t really make much use of it. There was a small wooden deck on the rear of the house, but there was no outdoor furniture to sit on. The backyard looked as uncared for as the front.
Decker used his height to peek into some windows but couldn’t see much.
“Can I help you?”
He turned to see a woman staring at him from the yard next door. She was in her seventies, gray haired, with a plump frame and wearing white sweatpants, a long-sleeved dark blue shirt, and orthopedic shoes. Glasses dangled from a chain around her neck.
They all showed their credentials.
She put on her glasses and drew closer. “The FBI! Has something happened?”
“And your name?” asked Andrews.
“Dorothy Steadman.”
“Have you lived here long?”