“He targets caregivers.” (Part 3)
Dana’s warning got darker… and specific.
Dana’s jaw tightened. “Two other families reported ‘someone in the room’ this week,” she said. “One thought it was a confused patient. The other thought it was cleaning staff. But cameras don’t get confused.”
I gripped the counter. “Why didn’t anyone tell us?”
“Because administration doesn’t like panic,” she said. “And because security insists it’s ‘access control’ and ‘badge issues.’ Meanwhile, he keeps getting in.”
Dana leaned closer. “He targets caregivers. People who stay overnight. We think he learns routines. When nurses make rounds. When partners step out for coffee.”
Anger surged through my fear. “Then why are we still here?”
“Because your husband needs surgery,” she replied. “And because you don’t have to be alone in that room anymore.”
She placed a visitor badge clip in my hand—normal looking, but heavier than it should’ve felt.
“If you leave, record on your phone,” she said. “If anyone comes in, ask their name and demand their badge—no exceptions. And don’t—do you hear me?—let anyone separate you from your husband.”
Dana tapped the screen again. “Look closer.”
I leaned in. The man wasn’t empty-handed. Something long and thin was hidden under his gown—maybe a tool, maybe a weapon, maybe something stolen. And his other hand hovered near the bed rail, like he was about to touch Mark’s wristband.
“He was going to change something,” Dana said. “The bracelet. The chart. The medication. I don’t know which. But I know what happens when tired families get blamed for mistakes.”
Dana walked me back toward the room, scanning corners, the cabinet, the doorway. Everything looked normal.
Too normal.
I went back inside and forced a smile when Mark stirred. “Yeah. Just tired,” I lied.
I opened my phone camera and started recording, angling it to capture the door and cabinet without being obvious. Then I texted my sister Leah:
“If I don’t answer, call me. Something weird is happening at the hospital.”
Dana returned with another nurse named Eric. “Eric will stay near this room for the next hour,” she said. “Security is sweeping again.”
My phone flashed a storage warning. I plugged it in and kept recording anyway.