Chapter 2 - The Charity With No Patients
The Sloane Foundation claimed to provide emergency medical care to rural communities. Its reports contained photographs of mobile clinics, smiling doctors, and grateful families.
Ethan discovered that several photographs had been purchased from stock-image websites.
The clinics did not exist.
The addresses led to empty buildings, storage facilities, and abandoned offices. Some of the doctors listed as employees had retired years earlier. Two were dead.
Ethan copied the records onto an encrypted drive and began reviewing payments made by Vale Meridian.
Money moved from the energy company to the Sloane Foundation. From there, it traveled through consulting firms, private hospitals, transportation companies, and overseas accounts.
One hospital appeared repeatedly.
St. Augustine Private Medical Center, located outside Fort Worth, specialized in trauma care and transplant coordination. It served wealthy patients seeking privacy.
Three years earlier, Vale Meridian had secretly purchased part of the hospital through a shell corporation.
Beatrice had signed the authorization.
Ethan requested the original acquisition documents. The company’s legal office told him they were missing.
The following morning, someone entered his office before he arrived. Nothing appeared stolen, but the drawers had been opened and his computer was running.
Ethan stopped using company devices.
He began working from a small apartment he maintained in downtown Dallas. It was the only place his mother did not control.
During his search, he found the name of a former St. Augustine nurse, Marissa Cole, attached to an internal complaint. The complaint had been withdrawn, and Marissa had left Texas.
Ethan located her through a professional nursing directory.
At first, she refused to speak.
When Ethan mentioned the Sloane Foundation, she went silent.
“Where did you get that name?” she asked.
“From my family’s financial records.”
“Then you are either very brave or very foolish.”
“Probably both.”
Marissa agreed to meet him at a crowded café in Austin.
She arrived wearing sunglasses and sat facing the entrance.
“What I’m going to tell you could ruin powerful people,” she said.
She explained that St. Augustine had maintained a private list of wealthy patients who needed transplants. Some were too old, too ill, or otherwise unlikely to receive priority through legal channels.
The hospital administrator, Dr. Malcolm Pierce, created false identities and altered medical records. Vulnerable patients arriving after accidents were sometimes listed as unidentified. Their relatives were delayed or misled while forged documents were prepared.
Marissa had never witnessed anyone being deliberately harmed, but she had seen patients transferred under suspicious circumstances.
“I reported it,” she said. “Two days later, someone left photographs of my daughter outside my apartment.”
Ethan’s stomach tightened.
“Why didn’t you go to the police?”
“I tried. My statement disappeared.”
“Who took it?”
“A detective connected to one of Sloane’s security companies.”
Marissa leaned closer.
“If your mother signed those hospital documents, she knows what happens there.”
Ethan wanted to reject the accusation.
Beatrice could be cold, controlling, and ruthless in business. But knowingly participating in a criminal medical operation seemed impossible.
Then he remembered her warning to stop investigating.
“What do I do?” he asked.
Marissa wrote a number on a napkin.
May you like
“Call this man. Do not use your real phone.”
The number belonged to Texas Ranger Nathan Hayes.
