I waited until 7:00 PM. The administrative offices usually clear out by then, leaving the hospital in a state of quiet hum. I’m not a hacker, but I’ve been at Mercy General long enough to know where the bodies are buried—and where the passwords are kept.

I took the service elevator down to the basement, to the IT server room. It’s a restricted area, cooled to a shivering temperature, filled with the drone of server fans. My badge shouldn’t have worked, but I have all-access clearance for emergencies. This was an emergency.

I found the lead IT guy, a kid named Kevin who owes me a massive favor. Last year, he got into a bar fight and didn’t want the police involved, so I stitched up his hand in the break room off the books.

Kevin was eating a burrito and watching a Twitch stream when I walked in. He jumped.

“Kevin,” I said, locking the heavy door behind me. “I need to see the access logs for the billing terminal. Specifically for Sophie Miller’s account.”

Kevin wiped guacamole off his lip, looking nervous. “Doc, if Sterling finds out I showed you that, I’m toast. He’s looking for a reason to outsource the whole department.”