But then she saw it, plain as day, or maybe just the opposite. A glaring omission.
What was missing was any type of homeowner expenses. The house was being rented as an office, according to his tax returns, but he was living in his office. At a minimum, that’s a non-salary taxable benefit anyway you slice it. And it was being claimed exactly nowhere.
That, and it was a bit complex but it looked like he was paying rent to the house he lived in, which was owned by a shell corporation, which he probably owned.
She had him for back taxes, interest, and likely penalties at the least. At the worst, she could hang him out to dry on tax evasion, money laundering, and a whole laundry list of other charges.
She printed out a few different years returns and headed out to pay the doctor a house call of her own.
CHAPTER 51
She rang on the door, but didn’t wait long for an answer. She didn’t expect to get one.
She made her way out back, and sure enough, found him sitting there for a second time.
“Detective, I see unannounced visits are your way of doing business.”
“Doing a little business of your own this afternoon, Doctor? From your home office?”
The doctor’s expression dropped immediately, but he caught himself and recovered quickly. He figured there was no way the detective was already that deep into the numbers. And he figured wrong.
The micro expression was plain to see to the trained eye of an experienced detective. She already knew she was coming in from a position of strength.
“I’m a doctor. I’m always on call.”
“I know the feeling, and although a lot of people think I live at the office I don’t actually live at the office.”
The doctor was growing annoyed quickly. “What can I do for you, Detective?” he exhaled.
“You can start by telling me who owns this house.”
“Beg your pardon?”
“You heard me, who owns this house?”
The doctor wasn’t ready to back down, just yet. “Maybe you should take your friend’s advice, Detective, and take some time away from your work, because you clearly have lost your mind.”
“Who owns the house?” Donna wasn’t backing down.
“I really don’t have time for this childish game. You know the answer to your own question.”
“Who owns the house?”
“I’m sitting right in front of you.”
“Who owns the house?” It wasn’t that she couldn’t have changed the question much earlier to get the answer she was after. She was more interested in seeing how far the doctor would go to cover up the information and how well his attempt was. She could build a profile on how he deals with conflict when she was ready to ask him future questions.
“If you’re interested in the affairs of my estate, or interested in purchasing it, I can refer you to my attorney or broker.”
“Is it for sale?”
“Isn’t that why you’re here? Daughter brutally murdered and then my house is suddenly up for sale.”
Detective Davis stared at the doctor. She didn’t know if he had listed it or was bluffing.
“Who’s handling the listing?”
“I haven’t determined yet, but apparently you got wind that I was interested in offers. I told that in discretion to a few familiar faces, but I see that information has spread rather quickly.”
“It has, but if you sell this house, where will you go?”
“I haven’t decided yet. Maybe you have some recommendations?”
She wasn’t sure if he was being smug and insulting her, assuming he was much more well traveled than she was. She was still rolling around the new information that he had listed the house for sale, or technically, and more importantly, he hadn’t listed it, but was taking offers. At least he wanted it to appear that way to her.
“I hear Nevada’s nice, especially for people who enjoy their privacy.”
“Who doesn’t?”
“I guess we all do. It just matters to what extend some of us go to to achieve it.”
“Or more importantly, why.”
“Exactly.” She was impressed at how he had turned the tables back to her. Was there something from her past that he knew, but wasn’t saying? Was she the only one with an ace up her sleeve? She decided to press on. “I’ve been asking myself that question a lot lately.”
“And so have I,” the doctor said.
“And did you come up with any answers?”
“I’m a doctor. It’s my job to look past what someone says, and discover what they truly mean. Do you know how many patients tell little ‘white lies’ to me in the examination room? Lies they think will do no harm, but by withholding certain information and disclosing other they’re risking their own health.”
“I’ve heard about this issue doctor’s often face with their patient’s truthfulness.”
“Well, I live it, every day.”
“What do you do in those situations?”
“I attempt to find the truth of course.”
“Are you successful?”
“That depends on how you define success.”
“Big house … that you technically don’t own or pay taxes on. Shell companies with more cash than they know what to do with. South of the border holidays with beautiful women, wrapped around the pretense of charitable work. We can start there.”
“Maybe throw in a brutally murdered daughter for good measure?”
“Stepdaughter, let’s not forget.”
“I loved that child! I raised her as my own and her mother and I took great care and went to great means to keep that information private. I don’t expect you to go rolling her name in the mud now.”
Donna didn’t want to go there, but she needed an answer. She could see his feelings for his daughter were real. It was a tough and cold direction to take, but that’s what her job required.
“I’m sorry. I have no plans of doing such a thing.”
The doctor said nothing. He was visibly angry.
“I must ask you to leave. Right now.”
“Not before you tell me what’s going on with the multitude of shell corporations. Who the real owner of this house is. And what you’re doing down in South and Central America.”
“Talk to my lawyer.”
“Your lawyer can’t help you.”
“Oh, and you can? Huh? You come in here all high and mighty thinking you can just put an end to all of this? Huh? You have no idea what’s going on. No idea what you’re up against. And for all I know you’re in on the take and you’re just here for a shakedown. Why don’t you be a real man and just ask me for the money, huh? Oh wait, because you’re not a man. You’re a woman pretending to be a man. Well, how’s that working out for you, Detective?”
“I’ve got enough to revoke your license and have you scrubbing toilets for the rest of your life. And the men, as you seem so interested in, in the federal prison will sure take a liking to you. Prisons are overcrowded, as I’m sure you’ve heard. You really think you’re going to get sent to some white collar Club Fed? Saves the taxpayers a lot of money just to throw everybody all together these days. But of course you won’t know anything about that, because you go to unimaginable lengths just to avoid paying a penny of your fair share. And here you sit, surrounded by all this wealth.”
“You don’t know a thing!”
“Why don’t you tell me then?”
“You want me to tell you?”
“Yeah, I want you to tell me.”
“Tell you about how disgusting this whole world is? How disgusted I am with the people that come to me looking for what they call help? How disgusted I am at the people who are supposed to be helping them? How I see their parents? Then I see their kids? And how in only a matter of time it’s their kids? And their kid’s kids? How none of this is going to ever change? How the only thing I can be sure of is that no one really wants it to change? Because it’s more profitable that way. See, there’
s no money in the cure. The cure is what first interested me in medicine when my mother was terminally ill. The cures that I searched for when I was a new doctor, ready to take on the world. There’s no money in that. No investment. Why? Because the money’s in the treatment. That’s how it’s been, that’s how it is, and that’s how it’s going to be. Wake up detective! Which side are you going to be on?”
“I’m on the side that’s going to cure the world of people that really are sick. People like you.”
“Yeah, well why don’t you do that? Let me guess. Your white horse is tied up right out on my front lawn. Well, for every do-gooder like you there are a hundred, thousands, who aren’t. You’re fighting a losing battle.”
“Maybe I am, and maybe I’m not, but I’m fighting. I’ve been fighting, I am fighting, and I’m going to keep on fighting. So you can either start telling me what’s going on, or these handcuffs are going on, and it’s a good bet they aren’t coming off anytime soon.”
“You’re so naive. You’re in way over your head. Don’t you know what money buys? It buys freedom, and all the things you could only imagine.”
“Yeah, well it doesn’t buy piece of mind. And it doesn’t buy me!”
Donna pulled out her plastic handcuffs and moved quickly toward the doctor. His eyes widened and he darted towards the back patio door.
“Freeze,” Donna said as she pulled her Taser.
The Doctor slid the patio door from left to right.
Donna took two running steps, Taser in hand, and dove.
Donna wrapped up the doctor in a waist tackle just as the door fully opened. Her momentum carried them through the opening and into the house. The doctor struggled, but Donna subdued him with her hand on his head pressed down onto the marble floor. She reminded herself to thank her mixed martial arts trainer for the move she used to lock his mid section in place while she cuffed him.
It was the perfect takedown. No injuries and she didn’t have to use any weapons. Not even the Taser or the pepper spray. Hand-to-hand combat. Old fashioned, and just how she liked it.
She stood and looked at the doctor. A tear was running down the side of his face. Then the sobbing started like a rainstorm with no warning.
“I’ll talk. Just don’t lock me up like all those animals.”
CHAPTER 52
Donna knew by the time she got him downtown the doctor might do what most people in his position do. Close their mouths and lawyer up. It wasn’t worth the risk.
She pulled him to his feet and sat him on a chair. The design and intricacy of the upholstery was like something she had never seen. She took a seat on the floor in front of him, adjusting herself to a cross-legged position. It wasn’t that she was afraid to sit on the chair next to his. A chair that likely exceeded her yearly salary.
She knew that this man’s trigger was his self-perception. He perceived himself to be above just about everything and everyone. He had said so with his last words. “Don’t lock me up like all those animals.” If she sat on the floor it left him in as much of a position of power as she could allow. And in his element he’d be most comfortable and likely to deliver the information she was after. The information it would take years of time, resources, and cost to dig through. She knew some of those shell companies would lead offshore and it would take years before they could pull the string all the way back to the beginning. Granted he wasn’t perfectly comfortable, but comfortable enough to say what needed to be said so he didn’t get locked up, ‘…like all those animals.’
And if she took him downtown a lawyer would immediately shut him up and those shell companies would never be cracked. She sensed that he, like plenty of the people she’d arrested over the years, actually wanted to get that burden they’ve been carrying off their chests. There’s a reason why talking is so therapeutic, and she was all ears.
“What happened?” Donna began.
The doctor took a deep breath and exhaled hard.
“I need you to promise me you’re going to do everything you can to help get me out of this.”
“I can’t promise because I don’t know what it is that you’re into. If you can tell me, we can talk about it. I’m a fair person.”
“You’ve got to help me.”
“Help you how? What happened?”
“It started back in college. I know it sounds hard to believe. My roommate was everybody’s best friend, too much so actually. He spent more time partying and chasing girls than studying. It didn’t seem to matter though, because he was rich. I wasn’t.
Anyways, he couldn’t pass the exams. Couldn’t get into medical school. His father started applying a lot of pressure. He’s well connected and next thing you know he’s working for a big pharmaceutical company. Me…I’m off to med school. We keep in touch, but he moved away and was always traveling. And I was always studying. First, we’re emailing every day, then every week … you know how it goes. We lose touch.
A few years down the line I’m out in the field. Starting my own little family practice. It’s not cheap here. You know that. I’m struggling. A doctor struggling. I have no idea how the middle class does it. How they stay afloat, especially here. So one afternoon I get a call. Back then I was still manning my own phones. It’s my old roommate. Says he wants to drop by for a beer. Catch up.
I’m thinking, ‘great.’ This could take my mind off my troubles for a minute. Remind me of the good ol' days, and get me out of the office for a bit. I practically live there.
So we go for a beer and after a few rounds he mentions a special program they have. A program they don’t advertise, and only for selected doctors. He says he can probably get me in, even though I don’t have the patient volume to qualify. The light bulb should have flashed then. How did he know my patient volume? They’re watching you, that’s how. They’re watching everything. Counting everything. The elite level players in the pharmaceutical industry always know.
So he tells me about this program where doctors can get special incentives for prescribing their drugs. Back then it wasn’t uncommon for pharmaceutical reps to do whatever it took to get doctors on board. I mean, some of the woman reps practically threw themselves at you back then. He tells me it’s all above board. Nothing wrong. Just when it comes time for me to prescribe, to choose their brand over the competitors.
I go home. I think about it. Doesn’t seem too bad. I mean if I’m already going to prescribe something, might as well help a buddy out, right? And help myself out a little at the same time. The drugs are about all the same anyways. It’s in the marketing. And this was back before you had all those TV commercials for drugs like we do today. The marketing was the rep, and the rep was my friend.
So I start prescribing a few of his pills for simple stuff. Common colds, allergies…things of that nature.
And before I know it, it grows out of control. I’m just blindly prescribing only his stuff.
So we’re having lunch again and he tells me about commission kickers. Tells me I’m real close. Almost hit it the month before. If I just happened to sell a little more this month, I’d meet their incentives. It bumps my rate up fifty percent across all my sales, from the first to the last. Not just the ones over the kicker.
Dollar signs flash in my eyes. I’m prescribing like crazy the rest of the month and I hit their target. I feel that rush of winning. It’s like a game. I’m barely a doctor anymore. I’m just a salesman. Didn’t even matter what the product was. Could have been cars, life insurance, or pills. Doesn’t matter one bit. It’s just sales 101. Only the product is different.
This goes on for months. I’m getting paid. I’m winning holiday vacations. I’m living the life.
I’m on top of the world. And then suddenly a new patient walks in. One who would change my life and flip my world upside down forever.”
CHAPTER 53
“Your wife?” Donna asked.
“No. We were already married at that point.”
“Your daughter?”
&nb
sp; “She definitely changed everything, but that’s not what I’m referring to.”
“Then who?”
“I remember it very clearly. It was a Friday afternoon. Last patient of the day. I’m sure it was planned that way.
I took him back to be evaluated. Asked him what was wrong. He said, ‘business.’ I thought, okay, this guy is stressed. I’ve got something for that.
I told him I could help him with that. He said, ‘good.’
I write out a prescription. Hold it out in front of him for him to take. He doesn’t even look at it. Just stares at me. A deep cold stare.
SEAL's Secret: A Navy SEAL Romantic Suspense Novel (A Man Who Knows What He Wants Book 24) Page 14