Chapter 13 - The Doctor I Recognized From My Death|
I knew Dr. Cecilia Grant.
Not from my current life.
From the prison hospital where I died.
In my first life, she had been the physician who tried to get me transferred to an outside medical facility.
I remembered her arguing with administrators.
I remembered hearing her say my condition required urgent treatment.
And I remembered her face when she realized the transfer had been delayed again.
I had never understood why her requests were ignored.
Now I wondered whether my death had been more than ordinary neglect.
I found her through a professional medical directory.
She was practicing at a community clinic outside Chicago.
Nadine agreed to accompany me.
When Dr. Grant entered the consultation room, I nearly stopped breathing.
She looked exactly as I remembered.
Dark hair.
Gentle eyes.
A faint scar near her chin.
“Mrs. Mercer?”
I stood.
“Yes.”
She shook my hand.
“What can I do for you?”
I studied her face.
For a moment, I wanted to ask:
Do you remember watching me die?
But that hadn't happened yet.
Not in this life.
Instead, Nadine explained that we were investigating financial irregularities connected to hospital contractors.
Cecilia's expression changed.
“Mercer Financial?”
“Yes.”
“Then I understand why you're here.”
She sat down.
Several years earlier, she had worked for a medical management company financed through one of Roland Shaw's investment groups.
She discovered discrepancies involving reimbursement records and staffing reports.
Medical services were being billed under contracts that did not always match what facilities had actually received.
She raised concerns.
Her supervisor dismissed them.
Then her contract wasn't renewed.
“Did you report the discrepancies?” Nadine asked.
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
Cecilia gave a tired smile.
“My concerns were buried in administrative reviews.”
I leaned forward.
“Did any of the contracts involve correctional healthcare?”
Her expression became serious.
“Yes.”
My heart hammered.
“Which facilities?”
She named several.
One of them was the prison where I had died.
I felt dizzy.
Nadine noticed.
“June?”
“I'm okay.”
But I wasn't.
I looked at Cecilia.
“If a patient developed a serious infection in one of those facilities, could financial or staffing problems affect treatment?”
She studied me carefully.
“Delays in appropriate care can have devastating consequences. But we'd need patient records to understand a particular case.”
I nodded.
“Of course.”
She hesitated.
“Why are you asking?”
I stared at the floor.
“Because I'm afraid someone could get hurt.”
Cecilia's expression softened.
“Then help us identify the problem before that happens.”
She handed Nadine contact information for an independent medical compliance organization.
Then she looked at me.
“Mrs. Mercer, if you're investigating Roland Shaw, be careful.”
I swallowed.
“Why?”
Her face darkened.
“Because the last person who tried to expose his hospital contracts died before testifying.”
My heart stopped.
“Who?”
Cecilia looked toward the photograph on her desk.
A young woman.
Dark hair.
Bright smile.
“Elise Shaw.”
I stared.
Marlene's daughter.
The girl who had hidden something inside the emerald necklace.
Cecilia whispered:
“She came to me eleven years ago.”
May you like
Then she added:
“And she told me her father was stealing from the sick.”
