Georgeanne Plunkett, a sixty-two-year-old white female, had been brought in by her husband with chest pains. Lexa had run an electrocardiogram or ECG, always the first test to run if you suspect a heart attack. Plunketts heart muscles seemed to be conducting electrical impulses just fine, making the likelihood that she had or was having a heart attack highly unlikely. At the same time, however, Lexa had sent blood to the lab. That was where Michelle had come in. Michelle had run the test that hadnt turned up in of the proteins or enzymes a doctor would expect to find in the blood sample if the patient was having a heart attack. Plunkett did, however, have high cholesterol, high blood pressure, and elevated blood sugars. Lexa had recommended Plunkett follow up on those conditions with her primary care physician. They werent exactly Emergency Department issues. They were chronic. In the end, Lexa had released Georgeanne Plunkett with a prescription for an antacid.

So where was Ms. Plunkett these days? Morgan pulled up her files, almost dreading what hed find. Maybe Lexa had been wrong. Maybe Plunkett had been having or was about to have a heart attack. Maybe shed ignored chest pains later because she thought they were nothing.

But no. Apparently not. Georgeanne Plunkett had taken Lexas advice and talked to her primary care doc. As of her last doctors appointment three weeks ago, shed lost twenty-two pounds and her A1C was in an acceptable range. She was still fighting with the cholesterol and the blood pressure, but she was healthier for having had Lexa as her doctor and Michelle as her lab tech.

Cross her off the list.

He moved on to the next one. Twenty-seven-year-old road biking enthusiast, Sammie Womack, whod had a close encounter with a vehicle on Skyline Drive. Lexa had sent him for a CT-Scan, X-rays and, once again, had sent blood work down to the lab where Michelle had been the tech on duty. It had been a good thing Womack had been wearing a helmet. Hed hit his head pretty hard, but there was no bleeding or indication of concussion. He had, however, broken his left arm. Thered been nothing notable in his blood work. There also wasnt much in his file. Morgan switched over to social media. It took him about ten minutes to find a photo of Sammie clad in spandex and proclaiming joy at being able to get back on his bike.

That was another one that didnt seem a likely person to take revenge.

The next case, however, held some possibilities. Paramedics had brought in thirty-two-year-old Cole Hutton and his seven-year-old daughter, Renee, to be treated for smoke inhalation. An untended candle had started a fire in their apartment. Theyd been lucky to get out alive. It had actually been the daughter whod heard the smoke alarm and woken her father.