Chapter 3 - The Patients Who Never Existed
Marcus found 214 patients.
At least on paper.
H&H claimed to have transported them to medical appointments, coordinated medication deliveries, and provided in-home assistance.
The problem was that thirty-seven addresses belonged to vacant buildings.
Twelve belonged to businesses.
Six were parking lots.
And one belonged to a cemetery.
I stared at the list.
“They billed services for dead people?”
“Possibly.”
Marcus pointed at another column.
“Some names appear to belong to real people. Others may be fabricated.”
“Where did they get the information?”
“We don't know yet.”
But I had an idea.
Harold.
For years, Harold had received treatment at multiple clinics.
Bonnie knew doctors.
Receptionists.
Insurance paperwork.
Patient support groups.
She had volunteered at a community health center.
Maybe H&H had begun small.
A fake reimbursement here.
A false transportation claim there.
Then expanded.
But why use my identity?
Evelyn answered that.
“Credibility.”
My income.
My position.
My credit.
My professional history.
H&H looked legitimate because I looked legitimate.
The family had built their criminal house on my reputation.
That afternoon, I received a text from Gemma.
Can we talk woman to woman?
I almost deleted it.
Evelyn said, “Answer.”
So I agreed to meet at a coffee shop.
Gemma arrived wearing sunglasses despite the rain.
She looked nervous.
“I had nothing to do with Justin hitting you.”
“You watched.”
“I was scared.”
“You picked up my lipstick.”
Her face reddened.
“I didn't know what to do.”
“You told me to endure.”
“I shouldn't have.”
“No.”
She swallowed.
“Mason says you're trying to ruin everyone.”
“Did Mason tell you about H&H?”
Her face changed.
Tiny.
But enough.
“You know.”
“I know there's a company.”
“Using my name.”
“I didn't know that part.”
“Do you receive money from it?”
“No.”
“Your credit card does.”
Gemma froze.
I slid a statement across the table.
Marcus had traced more than $94,000 in payments toward Gemma's cards over three years.
She stared at it.
“Mason told me it was business income.”
“What business?”
“The medical company.”
“What does Mason do there?”
“Operations.”
“What operations?”
“I don't know.”
“You've been spending nearly a hundred thousand dollars from a company and never asked?”
Tears appeared.
“You don't understand this family.”
I almost laughed.
“Actually, I'm starting to.”
She leaned forward.
“Bonnie controls everything.”
“Then help me prove it.”
Fear flashed across her face.
“No.”
“Why?”
“She keeps records.”
“So?”
“On everyone.”
I went still.
“What records?”
“Things people did. Money. Messages. Mistakes. She calls it insurance.”
That sounded exactly like Bonnie.
“What does she have on Justin?”
Gemma shook her head.
“I don't know.”
“Mason?”
She looked away.
“Gemma.”
“Mason signed claims.”
“Fake claims?”
“I think so.”
“Did you?”
“No.”
I believed her.
Maybe because she looked genuinely terrified.
“Where are the records?”
“Bonnie has a room downstairs.”
“At her house?”
“Yes.”
“I've been there hundreds of times.”
“It's behind the pantry.”
I remembered the narrow pantry door.
Shelves.
Canned food.
Nothing unusual.
Gemma whispered, “There's another door behind the shelving.”
My skin prickled.
“What is in there?”
“I've only seen it once.”
“And?”
“Files.”
“How many?”
“Hundreds.”
She looked toward the window.
“Cadence, Mason told me Bonnie has copies of your tax returns going back years.”
My blood ran cold.
“She shouldn't have those.”
“I know.”
“How did she get them?”
“Justin.”
Of course.
Gemma stood abruptly.
“I have to go.”
“Wait.”
She hesitated.
“Why are you telling me this?”
Her answer surprised me.
“Because last night Bonnie told Mason he should divorce me before investigators start asking questions.”
Gemma's voice cracked.
“She said wives are liabilities when they know too much.”
For the first time, I saw Bonnie's family structure clearly.
Nobody was loved unconditionally.
Everyone had a price.
Everyone had a use.
And the moment they stopped being useful, Bonnie discarded them.
Gemma walked away.
Two hours later, she called me screaming.
Someone had broken into her apartment.
Nothing valuable had been stolen.
No jewelry.
No electronics.
No cash.
Only one thing was missing.
Her laptop.
May you like
And written across her bedroom mirror in red lipstick were four words:
FAMILY DOESN'T BETRAY FAMILY.
