Chapter 4 - THE SUBPOENA
The federal subpoena arrived eighteen months later.
Not to me.
To Holloway Medical Transit.
I saw it because Joanne accidentally mailed a stack of company documents to our house after her assistant mixed up two envelopes.
One contained tax records.
One contained a subpoena from the U.S. Department of Justice requesting billing records related to federally reimbursed patient transports.
I stood in our kitchen reading it when Derek came home.
He saw the envelope.
Stopped.
Then smiled too quickly.
“That shouldn’t be here.”
“What is this?”
“A records request.”
“It says grand jury.”
“Standard language.”
I knew enough accounting to know grand jury was not standard language.
“How serious is it?”
“Not serious.”
“Does Olivia know?”
His face hardened immediately.
“Why would Olivia know?”
“She ran compliance.”
“She quit.”
“Because of these billing issues?”
“No.”
“Derek.”
He snatched the subpoena from the counter.
“Stop turning everything into Olivia’s conspiracy.”
I stared at him.
“I asked a question.”
“You’re enjoying this.”
“What?”
“Finally having something that makes me look incompetent.”
That was Derek’s deepest wound.
Not accusation.
Comparison.
My father was an accountant.
I had degrees.
Olivia was compliance-minded.
Derek was the charismatic operator who could sell a hospital administrator on anything.
He had spent his life being praised for instinct.
Paperwork felt like judgment.
I asked:
“Do they want records from when I was controller?”
“Yes.”
My stomach tightened.
“Am I named?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
That was a lie.
I learned later that my name appeared throughout the requested records because I had been controller during part of the period under review.
Not as a target.
As a person associated with financial certifications.
Derek knew.
Two nights after the subpoena, he asked me to sign a declaration.
He called it “routine background.”
The first paragraph stated that I had supervised all billing integrity controls during my tenure.
The second said any coding errors identified later would have occurred under systems I directly managed.
I put it down.
“I’m not signing this.”
“Why?”
“Because it makes me responsible for systems you controlled after I left.”
“It says during your tenure.”
“It is written broadly.”
“You’re being paranoid.”
There was the word.
Olivia’s word.
Mine now.
I slid the declaration back.
“Have outside counsel call me.”
Derek laughed.
“You want your own lawyer?”
“Yes.”
His expression changed completely.
That was the night he first called me a slut.
Not because of sex.
Because he was angry enough to choose whatever word he knew would hurt.
Then he said:
“Go call Mason. I’m sure he’ll tell you what a brave little victim you are.”
The affair story and the federal investigation had just merged.
May you like
I did not understand why.
But Derek did.
