“Megan Price.”
“Megan, do you know how Eleanor left the facility?”
She looked at Denise.
Denise answered for her.
“No one knows yet.
We were conducting an internal search when police contacted us.”
Megan’s breathing became shallow.
“I asked Megan,” I said.
Denise stepped closer.
“She’s nineteen.
She’s upset.
This is not the place to interrogate my staff.”
“A vulnerable resident walked several miles beside highway traffic in slippers.
This is exactly the place.”
The bystanders shifted uncomfortably.
One of them lowered his phone.
Megan wiped her cheeks.
“The west service door was open.”
Denise’s expression hardened.
“It was not open,” she said.
Megan stared at the pavement.
“The alarm kept beeping during breakfast.
Ms.
Hall told maintenance to silence it because inspectors were coming and she didn’t want the noise.”
Denise moved toward her.
“Be careful what you say.”
I raised a hand.
“Stay where you are.”
Megan continued, words rushing out now.
The electronic latch on the west service door had malfunctioned two days earlier.
Instead of placing a staff member there or moving residents away from the corridor, Denise had instructed maintenance to disable the audible alarm until a replacement part arrived.
That morning, a delivery driver had propped the door open while unloading kitchen supplies.
Denise had crossed the hall carrying Eleanor’s suitcase, which had been stored in a locked closet after Eleanor repeatedly tried to pack for a home that no longer existed.
Denise set the suitcase beside her office while speaking with the inspection team.
Her access card fell from its clip.
Eleanor found both.
She packed three nightgowns, her wedding photograph, and the card.
Then she walked through the silent service door.
No alarm sounded.
No one noticed for forty-three minutes.
Denise shook her head.
“That is speculation from an inexperienced employee.”
“We have cameras,” Carla said.
Denise turned pale.
Carla looked at me.
“The service corridor has video surveillance.”
“The cameras were being serviced,” Denise said quickly.
Megan swallowed.
“Only the lobby camera was offline.”
I radioed my supervisor and requested another unit at the facility.
I also asked dispatch to notify Adult Protective Services and the state agency responsible for licensing long-term-care centers.
Denise’s polished composure began to crack.
“You are escalating this unnecessarily,” she said.
“Eleanor is safe.
That should be our priority.”
