Chapter 5 - The Woman in the PhotographWe took the photograph to the police.
The man beside Austin and my mother was identified as Dr. Victor Hale, a former medical administrator who had been investigated for insurance fraud years earlier.
The investigation had gone nowhere.
He had disappeared.
Until now.
My employer also discovered something disturbing.
The fraudulent claims weren't random.
They involved patients whose insurance policies had unusually high coverage limits.
Someone had been creating false medical histories.
Then billing insurers for treatments that never happened.
The money was divided between several shell companies.
One of those companies belonged to Austin.
Another was connected to Dr. Hale.
And a third had been registered under my mother's name.
I confronted her.
She was sitting in her living room when I arrived.
“You knew.”
She didn't answer.
“You knew about the fraud.”
She looked away.
“How long?”
Still nothing.
“Mom.”
Finally, she whispered:
“You don't understand.”
“Then explain it.”
She began crying.
Not the angry tears I had seen throughout my childhood.
Real tears.
“I was scared.”
“Of Austin?”
“Yes.”
“What did he have over you?”
She shook her head.
“Everything started with money.”
She told me the truth.
Austin had discovered that Dr. Hale could make money through fraudulent medical claims.
At first, my mother believed it was harmless.
She signed documents.
She allowed her name to be used.
Then the amounts became larger.
When she tried to stop, Austin threatened her.
“He said if I went to the police, I'd go to prison too.”
I stared at her.
“You let him hurt people because you were afraid of prison?”
She covered her face.
“I was ashamed.”
“You should have protected me.”
“I know.”
“You should have protected Naomi.”
“I know.”
“You should have protected Kathleen.”
She began sobbing.
“I know.”
For the first time, I saw my mother not as Austin's defender, but as someone trapped inside a terrible decision she had made years earlier.
But I wasn't ready to forgive her.
“Where is Austin?”
“I don't know.”
“Where is Dr. Hale?”
“I don't know.”
She looked at me.
“But I know where the records are.”
My heart raced.
“What records?”
“The originals.”
She told me about a storage facility outside Riverside.
A locked unit containing financial documents, patient files, and transaction records.
If we could recover them, we could prove everything.
But before we could leave, my phone rang.
Naomi.
Her voice was frantic.
“Monica, Austin is here.”
“Where?”
“At my father's house.”
“Get away from him.”
“I can't.”
“What do you mean?”
There was a crash.
Then Naomi screamed.
The call ended.
I called 911.
Then I called the police investigator.
My mother grabbed my arm.
“You can't go there.”
“I have to.”
“He'll hurt you again.”
“He already did.”
I looked at her.
“And I'm not letting him hurt anyone else.”
We drove toward La Jolla.
But halfway there, my mother suddenly said:
“Turn around.”
“Why?”
She pointed toward the highway.
A black SUV had been following us.
It changed lanes when we did.
Then accelerated.
My mother whispered:
“He knows.”
The SUV came closer.
I pressed the accelerator.
May you like
For the first time in my life, my mother and I were running from the same person.
And neither of us knew if we would survive the night.
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