Money ruled everything, even medicine.
Eventually, by the time I got to the end of the stack, I was left with eight names. That was eight more than I expected to get, and I was pretty relieved to be done with what was the most painful experience of my life. I think I’d rather get a root canal without anesthesia than have to go through that again.
But it was done, and I had my list.
Not a huge list, but a list anyway.
I texted Lori next, and she got back to me right away with a phone number. No questions, no hesitation. I liked that about her. I steeled myself as I called the number, and paced across my living room until a voice answered.
“Hello?” Rees sounded somewhat annoyed.
“Hello, Rees,” I said. “This is Dr. Hood. How are you this afternoon?”
His tone didn’t. “I guess Lori gave you this number.”
“Yes, she did. I hope it’s okay that I’m calling.”
“What can I do for you?” Straight to business. I wasn’t surprised.
“I had something I wanted to show you,” I said. “I was wondering if you have any free time left today?”
“I have office hours now,” he said, sounding skeptical. “I don’t normally take meetings during them, but I will, if this is important.”
“I think it might be,” I said. “Would you mind?”
“All right then. You come to me, be here in an hour, and I’ll listen to what you have to say.” He hesitated, and I could feel his indecision weighing across the line. “I hope you thought about what we spoke of the other day.”
“I did.”
“Good.” He gave me the address. “See you in an hour.”
He hung up. I checked the time, grabbed the directions off my phone, and gathered up my things. His house was out in the suburbs, and I’d need the majority of that hour to get to him on time.
Rees’s house was a massive structure on the edge of Philadelphia County. The neighborhood was sparsely populated and clearly affluent: a large, black fence surrounded the entire area. An older woman sitting in a security booth buzzed me through, since apparently, I was expected.
I parked out front and walked up a set of stairs. Columns lined the front porch, and the door looked like it could accommodate an elephant. I rang a bell and knocked, and waited a minute before an older woman in dark pants and a white button-down answered. She smiled and gestured for me to follow her.
I gawked around me. I’d never seen so much wealth before: paintings, statues, vases, fresh flowers and plants, gold-rimmed mirrors, smooth marble floors, flawless walls, pristine light fixtures. It was a rambling house, big enough for ten families, and the older woman led me to a door at the very back, big and dark wood. She knocked once, smiled at me, then left.
I watched her go and realized we hadn’t spoken a single word.
“Come in,” Rees said from inside.
I pulled open the door and stepped into an office. A heavy, thick rug covered the floor, and huge bookcases flanked the massive wooden desk. Rees looked up with a scowl. He seemed busy reading the paper, which I guessed was what he’d been doing the whole time, since he was close to the end. He checked his watch and grunted as I closed the door.
“Thank you for seeing me,” I said.
“It’s fine,” he said, although he sounded like it definitely wasn’t. “Take a seat.”
I sat, and leaned forward, holding the stack of files on my knees. He frowned at them, then up to me.
“I was doing some research,” I said. “Looking into past patients. I made some calls.”
“Did you now?” he said, frowning slightly, eyebrows raised. “And what did you find?”
“I found that they’re more loyal to me than they are to any hospital.”
He laughed, and seemed genuinely delighted by that. I knew this was a risk—he sat on the board of Westview, and he could easily decide that the hospital was more important than however he might feel toward me through his cousin. Still I knew I had no other options, and I got the sense that Rees was a pragmatic man. I forced away any nerves, and tried to treat this like a normal procedure.
At least now, the only life in the balance was my own.
“That’s very interesting, but I’m not sure what you’re getting at,” he said.
“I have eight patients here.” I placed the stack on his desk, putting them down behind several small sculptures: a fertility goddess, a black Lab, a chestnut horse. Each file contained the most basic information possible, to avoid any potential HIPAA violations. “I know eight doesn’t sound like a lot, but these are eight very wealthy older individuals that are in need of services such as those I provide. These are eight former patients that would become new patients—and might be good streams of revenue.”
Rees chuckled darkly. “Strange, to talk about human lives as sources of income.”
“I’m aware, but it’s also how hospitals operate.”
“True.” He picked up the stack and weighed it. “You did this today?”
“Called every former patient I thought might be worth calling.”
“That must have been hard.”
I clenched my jaw and nodded once. The memory was still fresh. I hated putting myself out like that. “It wasn’t so bad.”
“What do you want me to do with this?”
“I’m not completely sure yet,” I admitted, and leaned back in the comfortable leather chair. “There’s a part of me that wants to be back in the good graces of Westview.”
He tapped the folders. “You think these patients can do that?”
“I think they’re a start.”
“You would need five hundred of these to make those vultures give a damn about you again.”
His words stung. I watched him open one of the folders and leaf through the pages. I felt myself beginning to unravel at the idea that all this was for nothing, that I was throwing myself out
