Chapter 6 - The Signature Nobody Wrote
The social worker's name was Priya Shah. She listened without interrupting while Dad denied requesting discharge.
"Then we stop the transfer and investigate," she said. "Nothing moves forward without your informed consent."
"Can we see the form?" Sophie asked.
Priya turned the paper around. It carried Dad's name in a shaky imitation of his handwriting and listed me as the family contact.
"That's not his signature," I said. "He doesn't even make his R like that."
Sophie pointed at the date. "He was getting scans that morning. I was here."
Priya photographed the document for the hospital record and promised to alert compliance. She wouldn't let us take the original, which made sense even if I hated leaving it behind.
Dad waited until she left before speaking. "I used to fix school buses for a living. Never thought I'd be scared of paperwork."
"You shouldn't have to be," Sophie said.
My phone rang. Vincent had given Lena my number with permission, and she was checking on us. I told her about the form.
"Don't send it to me," she said. "Ask the hospital to preserve the source and referral details. Let the authorities handle evidence."
It was the first sensible advice anyone had given us all night.
At midnight Sophie fell asleep in a visitor chair. I stood by the window and watched the red lights of ambulances pull into the emergency entrance.
Priya came back with a strange expression. "The discharge request came from a business fax account," she said. "The number is listed to Harborline Mobility."
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Dad closed his eyes.
"They aren't trying to help me recover," he said. "They're trying to get me somewhere nobody can hear me."
