Chapter 4 - THE HOSPITAL THAT KNEW MY FAMILY NAME
St. Anne Medical Center had treated my mother for twelve years.
I knew the lobby.
The billing desk.
The smell of antiseptic and burnt coffee.
I never imagined my father's disappearance might be connected to the same place.
The key Teresa gave me opened a private storage compartment in an older records building attached to St. Anne's research division.
Rebecca Shaw, an independent attorney Vincent contacted, insisted we do everything legally.
For once, I appreciated the caution.
I did not want armed men breaking down doors in my name.
The compartment held a box.
Inside were inspection reports.
Financial statements.
And three handwritten notebooks.
My father's handwriting.
My knees nearly gave way.
I touched the first page.
If Hannah ever reads this, tell her I was trying to come home.
Tears filled my eyes.
Tyler sat beside me.
He covered his mouth.
Mom wasn't there.
Her cardiologist had moved her scan forward after the hospital learned her case was under legal review.
For once, someone had listened.
I read further.
Dad had discovered that certain hospital renovation contracts were inflated.
Money intended for cardiac programs and community clinics was diverted through construction vendors.
Several vendors were controlled by a shell company.
The company belonged to Garrett Sloan's father.
My manager.
The same man who fired me hours earlier.
I stared.
“This can't be coincidence.”
Rebecca nodded.
“It may not be.”
Vincent looked toward the records.
“Who else?”
I turned the page.
Charles Barlow.
Regional hospitality executive.
Judith Warren.
City procurement officer.
And one name that made Vincent go completely still.
Lorenzo Moretti.
His uncle.
I looked at him.
“You know him?”
Vincent's face hardened.
“He helped run my father's businesses before I took over.”
Teresa whispered, “And he hated Antonio.”
My stomach tightened.
Rebecca continued examining the documents.
Several payments moved from construction companies to luxury hospitality accounts.
One recipient was The Magnolia Room.
My restaurant.
The same restaurant where Vanessa-like guests had probably spent thousands while hospital projects went unfinished.
I felt sick.
Then Tyler found something folded between two notebook pages.
A letter.
Addressed to Mom.
I opened it.
Diane,
If I disappear, please don't trust anyone who tells you I'm dead unless you see me yourself.
My chest broke.
Mom had never seen his body.
Neither had we.
I kept reading.
I am trying to expose something bigger than stolen construction money.
Patients are being billed for procedures they never received.
Some identities are being used twice.
I frowned.
“What does that mean?”
Rebecca leaned closer.
Then she turned another page.
There were lists of names.
Birth dates.
Insurance numbers.
And two patients sharing the same identification codes.
Fraud.
But then I saw my mother's name.
Diane Reed.
Her patient ID appeared twice.
Once for her heart treatment.
And once for a surgical procedure performed on a different woman.
I stared.
“Who is the other patient?”
Rebecca traced the code.
Her expression changed.
“Hannah.”
I swallowed.
“What?”
“The second patient is listed as Diane Reed.”
She looked up.
“But the age doesn't match.”
My stomach tightened.
“How old?”
“Forty-six.”
My mother was fifty-three.
Rebecca turned the page.
A photograph was attached.
The woman looked nothing like Mom.
But she looked exactly like someone else.
May you like
Teresa Moretti.
Vincent's mother.
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