The Clinic That Lost a Patient

Chapter 04 - The Clinic That Lost a Patient

Maeve did not remember crossing the library.

One moment she was staring at Roman’s desk, and the next she had both hands flat on the door, trying to open locks she had not seen Declan slide into place.

“Move.”

Roman spoke behind her. “Maeve.”

“My sister cannot be discharged. She needs treatment three times a week. If they stop—”

Her voice cracked, and she hated herself for it.

Declan unlocked the door before Roman gave permission.

That was the first mercy.

The second was that none of them told her to calm down.

Within four minutes, she was in the back of a black SUV with Roman beside her, Declan in the front passenger seat, and Gabriel on the phone in the vehicle behind them. The manor disappeared behind rain and iron gates.

Maeve kept calling Nell.

Straight to voicemail.

Again.

Again.

Again.

Roman watched her without speaking until she hit call for the twelfth time.

“Battery may be dead.”

“Nell charges her phone in the clinic lobby every session because our apartment outlets spark if you use more than two at once.”

He absorbed that without pity. Maeve appreciated it despite herself.

“Who owns the clinic?” he asked.

“Mercy Shore Medical.”

Declan snorted from the front. “Nothing with mercy in the name has any.”

Roman sent him one look. Declan shut up.

The clinic sat between a pawn shop and a pharmacy that sold more lottery tickets than medicine. Maeve had spent half her adult life in its waiting room under a television that played daytime court shows at low volume.

Now the chairs were empty.

The receptionist refused to look at her.

“She was transferred by physician order.”

“What physician?” Maeve demanded.

“I can’t discuss patient information.”

“She is my sister.”

“I understand your frustration.”

Maeve leaned over the counter. “No, you don’t. You understand scripts and paperwork. I understand what happens to my sister if rich people use her body like a calendar reminder.”

Roman stepped up beside her.

He did not raise his voice.

He did not introduce himself.

He simply placed one black business card on the counter.

The receptionist looked at it, and color drained from her face.

Declan smiled at the security camera.

Gabriel arrived two minutes later carrying a file box he had absolutely stolen from somewhere.

“We found the transfer company,” he said. “Ambulance license belongs to a shell. Shell belongs to Varo Consolidated.”

Roman went very still.

Maeve noticed the change.

“Who is Varo?”

“An old family friend,” Gabriel said.

Declan’s laugh had no humor. “Meaning we should have killed him years ago.”

Roman took the file box from Gabriel and opened it on a row of plastic waiting-room chairs.

Inside were copies of billing adjustments. Maeve’s name. Nell’s name. Her mother’s old name.

Rose Hale-Cole.

And one more file.

Falcone Foundation Pediatric Renal Sponsorship.

Maeve stared at it. “What is that?”

Roman read the first page.

Then the second.

The skin around his eyes tightened.

“What?” Maeve asked.

Gabriel leaned over his shoulder and stopped smiling.

Declan looked toward the clinic door as if hoping someone would walk in and give him an acceptable target.

Roman handed the page to Maeve.

Twenty-one years earlier, Lucia Falcone had established a medical trust for two children listed only as Rose’s girls.

The trust was fully funded.

Irrevocable.

Private.

Intended to cover lifelong medical care.

Maeve could not make her mind accept the words.

Her sister’s debt.

The overdue notices.

The threats from collection agencies.

The nights Maeve had eaten crackers for dinner so Nell could afford medication.

It had all happened while money existed somewhere with their names hidden inside it.

“Why didn’t we get it?”

Roman’s voice was flat enough to frighten her. “Because someone blocked the distributions.”

“Who?”

He turned the page.

The authorization freeze bore the signature of Roman’s father.

And beneath it, witnessed by a second signature, was the name Silvio Varo.

A phone buzzed in Gabriel’s hand.

He listened for five seconds, then looked at Roman.

“We found the ambulance.”

Maeve stepped toward him. “Where?”

“Abandoned near the marina.”

Her body went cold.

Gabriel hesitated, and Maeve understood before he spoke that mercy would not be included in the next sentence.

“Nell wasn’t inside.”

Roman took the file from Maeve before her hands could crush it.

A nurse emerged from the hallway, pale and shaking.

“I shouldn’t say anything.”

Maeve turned toward her.

The nurse held out a brown prescription envelope.

“She left this in the blanket. I think she knew they weren’t taking her to another clinic.”

Inside was a torn piece of paper with Nell’s cramped handwriting.

Not sick enough to die. Useful enough to keep.

Under the words was a drawing Maeve recognized from childhood.

A rose.

And beneath it, in their mother’s old code, four letters.

L.U.C.I.

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Roman saw the mark and whispered a name like a prayer he was afraid to finish.

“Lucia.”