Chapter 28 - The Man Who Remembered
Dr. Samuel Grant was seventy-two years old and living outside Denver.
It took three days to locate him.
Another two before he agreed to speak with us.
We met at a quiet coffee shop.
He recognized Sophie's name before we sat down.
That told me everything.
His face changed.
“Mrs. Parker.”
Sophie didn't bother with small talk.
“You remember me.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Grant looked down at his coffee.
“Because I tried to contact you.”
Sophie froze.
“When?”
“After the second pregnancy loss.”
My jaw tightened.
“We never received anything.”
“I know.”
“How?”
He looked at me.
“Because the hospital closed the internal investigation before I believed it should be closed.”
I felt heat rise in my chest.
Sophie squeezed my hand beneath the table.
I stayed quiet.
Grant continued.
“Your pathology initially showed abnormal trophoblastic proliferation.”
Sophie swallowed.
“Cancer?”
“Not necessarily at that point.”
He shook his head.
“But enough to warrant prolonged monitoring.”
“I had follow-up blood tests.”
“For a time.”
“Yes.”
Grant sighed.
“There was a specimen handling error.”
“The mismatch.”
He nodded.
“Your first report was questioned because staff believed the abnormal tissue might belong to another patient.”
“So they told me everything was fine?”
“They repeated portions of the analysis.”
“And?”
“I still had concerns.”
Sophie stared.
“Did you tell my doctor?”
“Yes.”
“What did he say?”
“That your hormone levels were falling and the risk was low.”
“Was he wrong?”
Grant looked miserable.
“Possibly.”
I leaned forward.
“Possibly?”
Sophie touched my arm.
Grant continued.
“When your levels normalized, the case was closed.”
“Then why the letter to me?” I asked.
He looked at me.
“Because I knew Colonel Parker was military.”
“So?”
“I thought if Mrs. Parker moved or changed numbers, contacting her spouse through military channels might provide another route.”
I felt sick.
At the time, I had probably been preparing for deployment.
Sophie stared out the window.
Grant's voice softened.
“I am sorry.”
She looked back.
“Would earlier monitoring definitely have prevented what happened?”
“No.”
“Would it have found the disease earlier?”
“It might have.”
Sophie nodded slowly.
That answer mattered.
Not certainty.
Possibility.
Grant slid a folder toward her.
“I kept copies.”
“Why?”
“Because I knew someday somebody might ask.”
Sophie didn't touch it.
Instead, she asked one final question.
“Was someone trying to hide this?”
Grant hesitated.
My entire body went still.
“I don't know.”
“That isn't what your face says.”
He looked toward the window.
Then back at us.
“The hospital was preparing for a merger.”
“And?”
“There was intense pressure to reduce reportable laboratory incidents.”
Sophie leaned back.
“So maybe.”
Grant nodded once.
“Maybe.”
We left with the folder.
Outside, Sophie stood beside the car.
“Are you angry?”
I almost laughed.
“Extremely.”
“So am I.”
“What do you want?”
She looked at the documents.
“I want accountability.”
I waited.
“Not revenge.”
I nodded.
May you like
There was a difference.
We knew that now too.
