Page 51 of Wild Tides
“I already miss her.” Lee looked annoyed—whether with Rae for arguing or me for leaving, I wasn’t sure.
“That I believe. It’s the part about her being at your beck and call I’m calling bullshit on,” Rae said.
“She’s a very caring person.” There was a softness in Lee’s eyes that made me squirm.
“And an absolute tyrant,” Lucy said.
“Hey!” I couldn’t really be mad. She wasn’t wrong.
“Careful, Lucifer. I know someone else who resembles that remark,” Clay said.
“And you love it,” Lucy shot back.
Clay grinned, unrepentant. “Absolutely, I do.”
Lee cleared his throat. “Anyway, I also think there’s more to Dr. Underwood’s involvement with the scam at her husband’s art gallery than the authorities know.”
“What makes you say that?” Clay frowned.
“I’ve seen her medical practice up close. A few other patients checked in while I waited for my appointment this morning. Some looked incredibly sick. Of the two the receptionist helped, neither had a co-pay due.”
“Maybe they’re just on a different plan type, or already met their out-of-pocket max for the year,” Drew pointed out. “Insurance is complicated. I work with a broker on plans for our family business and still don’t totally understand it. Some medications are wildly expensive. Maybe enough to have fulfilled their max, even this early in the year.”
“When I walked by the exam rooms, I noticed their patient files are a different color from mine.”
“Maybe they’re just sicker than you,” Anya said.
Lee coughed, looking sheepish. “I may have slipped out of my exam room and peeked at Leona Mark’s file. She’s on Kalydeco. It’s one of the most expensive cystic fibrosis meds in the world. After the rumors following Jordan’s death, I spent some time researching counterfeit medications and how they’re smuggled.”
He glanced around the table. “It fits. What if Dr. Underwood commissioned Jordan Dawkins and Brandon Chen to smuggle counterfeit medications from Canada or parts unknown? They wash the money through her husband’s studio, giving patients a legal-ish way to pay Dr. Underwood for treatments she administers in her clinic. How hard would it be for her to bill insurance the full cost of the medications and have her patients pay a reduced rate on the side for counterfeit meds, then take their uncollected co-pays as a tax write-off?”
“Getting a judge to issue a warrant for patient records may be nearly impossible,” Rae pointed out. “I’m not sure how you could prove it.”
“And financial crimes aside, is she really hurting anyone? Isn’t she helping them afford treatment?” Lucy asked. “A lot of us would like to stick it to insurance companies.”
“I still think she’s dirty,” Lee said. “It’s one thing if she were helping her patients. But Treyvon Smith’s wife posted that his treatment failed, and he’s now in liver failure. They’re looking for a donor. Counterfeit meds aren’t necessarily effective. They could contain anything.”
“You could tell the sheriff,” Drew said.
“Yes, because coming to him as a thriller author, who creates fictional conspiracies for a living, makes my ideas very plausible.” Lee’s tone was dry as stale bread. “We have no real proof. Just suspicion.”
“I can whisper in Agent Harris’s ear,” Clay offered.
Lee lifted his shoulder. “It’s worth a shot. Maybe with their access to the gallery’s financials, they can uncover stronger ties.”
“I’ll call him tomorrow,” Clay said.
A few minutes later, Lee slid his final card onto the table. “Bow before your new island overlord.”
Anya scowled. “I had you pinned as the slow and steady type, not the silent assassin.”
I laughed. She’d forgotten who she was dealing with. Lee always had plots for days, some so twisted, no one could see them coming.
We packed up the game, and our friends put on their jackets and shoes.
Anya gave me a mischievous smile. “I know Vi and Lee will be at the Sweetheart’s Dance next weekend, but does everyone else have tickets?” She fluttered her lashes at Drew. “You’re going with me, handsome.”
My brother’s besotted expression didn’t wane. Impressive, since Anya had talked him into dancing. In public.
