Medical Error Read Online Free PDF Page B

you exactly how much I've used my card in the past week." She fumbled in the folder and withdrew a few charge slips. "I charged gasoline a week ago, then a meal at El Chico, a blouse at Dillard's, and two days ago I bought some things at CVS pharmacy. That's it. That couldn't have put me over my limit. You must have my account mixed up with somebody else's." She heard the panic creep into her voice but couldn't stop it.
    "I'm sorry, Mrs. McIntyre. Could your husband have made some of these charges and not told you?"
    "It's Doctor McIntyre, and I'm not married. I'm the only person with this card."
    This time there seemed to be genuine sympathy in the operator's reply. "Oh. I'm afraid what we have here may be a case of unauthorized usage. If you'll hold for a moment, I'll get a supervisor on the line."
    Anna found herself automatically saying, "Thank you," before the full import of the operator's words registered."Unauthorized usage?"
    "Unfortunately, it's not that uncommon. The supervisor will get more information from you and confirm a security breach. Then she'll cancel your card and arrange to have a new one sent to you by express courier. You should have it tomorrow afternoon. Will there be someone there to sign for it?"
    "Yes."
    While the saccharin strains of music on hold played in her ear, Anna considered what this meant. It would be an inconvenience to be without her card for a day, but she had a VISA card she could use until the new MasterCard arrived. Being at home to sign for the delivery would be a pain, but she'd work it out somehow. And she was pretty sure she wouldn't have to pay for the things charged to her account by someone else. Clearing up the mess left behind by whoever hijacked her credit card would be a major nuisance, but somehow she'd get through it. The question that stuck in her mind, going round and round without an answer, was how someone had gotten hold of her credit card information. And did this have anything to do with her DEA number being compromised?

    Nick looked at the address written in blue ballpoint ink on his left palm, what he'd once heard called the primitive version of a Palm Pilot. It had taken him twenty minutes of computer surfing to dig up a home phone number for Anna McIntyre and only a few clicks after that to uncover the physical address that went with it. Truly, with the growth of the Internet there was no longer any such thing as privacy.
    Now that he was here, he had to wonder why this had seemed so important to him. Because he wanted to help her solve the question of why her patient died? Or because he was excited about seeing Anna?
    He eased out from behind the wheel of his Honda Civic and squinted to see the numbers on the doorposts of the duplex. There it was, on the left. He marched to the door and rapped firmly. He made himself wait a measured thirty seconds before repeating his knock, this time a bit harder and longer.
    Nick was rewarded with a faint call from inside. "Just a second."
    It was closer to two minutes before the peephole darkened for an instant, then the door opened and Anna McIntyre greeted him. She wore a hip-length Dallas Cowboys T-shirt over faded jeans. Her feet were bare, her red hair tousled. Without makeup, the simple beauty of her face shone through. Nick knew that his heart wasn't really doing somersaults, but it sure felt like it.
    Anna was talking on a cordless phone as she motioned him inside. She waved him to a seat, pointed to the phone in silent apology, and disappeared into the next room, still talking.
    At least she hadn't turned him away at the door. He scanned the living room. Minimal furnishings, but every item obviously chosen with care and taste. He knew how much an assistant professor at the med school made—at least in his department—and he suspected that Anna's personal budget was as tight as his. It appeared that she'd done a nice job with the funds available.
    "Sorry." She strode through the door and replaced the phone in