Chapter 14
14
“ T hese are the forms they use for non-paying patients,” Camila said, flipping through the taped together sheets.
Alejandro sat opposite her in her parents’ living room, the three photos spread out on the coffee table between them. There were ten sheets of paper, and he reviewed five while she reviewed the other five.
“They don’t contain much information,” he remarked.
“It’s an intake form,” Camila explained. “To collect basic information from patients and give medical personnel an idea of why they came in. I haven’t been down to the clinic in a while, but on the fee-free Saturdays they ran, I used to help people fill out this form because some of them couldn’t read and needed help answering the questions. Mommy went with me a few times and helped.”
“How would Doug have gotten this information?” Alejandro asked.
“Dumpster diving, probably.”
Alejandro leaned back on the sofa. “Seems like an odd place to dumpster dive, no? A clinic? Why not the back of the casinos or a restaurant?”
“He probably rummaged through those dumpsters too.”
Alejandro stroked his jaw as he thought. “What could he have been looking for at the clinic?”
“What do you mean?”
He pointed at the photographs. “There is a reason he took these.”
Camila stood, and with one hand on her hip started pacing the floor. “We know Reyes is a crook. Doug could have suspected something was going on—maybe he was threatening Dr. Shapiro—which could explain why Doug took the photos. The voicemail he left said he had something for me, which could be all of this. He probably thought I could do some digging for him.”
Alejandro studied the photographs for a moment. “In one of the photos, yes, Javier is in the doctor’s face, but in the other two, they are having a heated conversation. Look at their expressions. They both look concerned. Worried.” He flipped the pictures upside down so they were facing right side up in her direction.
“Worried about what, though?”
“Good question.”
He looked at a different clinic sheet and reviewed every line in detail. Nothing stood out to him. The questions seemed normal.
Do you smoke or use tobacco? How much?
How much alcohol do you consume?
Do you have hepatitis, HIV/AIDS?
Have you ever had any serious illnesses or chronic conditions (e.g., diabetes, cancer, heart disease, kidney disease, etc.)?
He continued reading, but when he arrived at the bottom, a chill came over him. In the box marked office use only , someone had written a note.
Viable organs: kidneys, pancreas
“Camila, do you see notes at the bottom of your sheets? In the office use only section?”
She picked up her papers. “Why?”
Alejandro didn’t answer. He let her review them first.
She sifted through the papers. “Not on this one… oh, there’s something written at the bottom of two of them. Viable organs: all. Viable organs: liver, kidneys .” She looked up at him. “What does that mean?”
“You know what it means,” Alejandro said softly.
“Wait a minute, are you suggesting the clinic is-is taking organs from the patients?”
Instead of answering, Alejandro showed her his last sheet. He pointed to the name at the top. “What was the name of the homeless man Sam and Rhonda said has been missing for six weeks?”
Camila read the name. “Tommy,” she whispered. She sank into the armchair.
“Sam said no one cared or was looking for Tommy, but what if Doug was? What if he suspected something was going on or knew something was wrong?”
“That would explain why he was searching through the dumpster at the clinic. Then he actually did find something. Oh my goodness, if he figured out what was going on, he might have confronted Dr. Shapiro. Melissa said he was coming into some money and wanted to help out.”
“He could have tried to blackmail him.”
Camila fell back against the chair and covered her face with her hands. “No, no, no, Doug, what did you do?”
A knock came at the door.
“Lunch,” Alejandro said. He went to the door, paid the delivery person, and took the Chinese food up the three steps into the kitchen.
Camila followed him, bringing her laptop. She sat at the bar. “I’m going to do a little digging and see if I can figure out the connection between Shapiro and Reyes.” Her fingers moved quickly across the keyboard.
“How are you going to do that?” Alejandro asked, setting out plates.
“Because of Sin City Pulse , I have access to different databases. I just need to cross reference their names and see what comes up.” She was typing fast, not looking at him as she spoke.
Alejandro fixed them each a plate of kung pao chicken and orange chicken with rice and an egg roll.
He ate while Camila barely touched her food as she scrolled through pages upon pages of data. She was in the zone, excited by the search she was conducting. Her dogged determination to find a link between both men was certainly a good characteristic to have as a local reporter.
When Alejandro finished eating, he went back to the photos and the intake forms. He used a highlighter on six of the sheets that indicated the patients had viable organs. Then he did some online digging to get general information on black market organ transplants.
Several hours had passed by the time he heard Camila gasp. “I found something,” she said from the kitchen.
Alejandro went to stand behind her.
“Look at this,” she said, pointing at the screen. “I couldn’t find a direct link between them, but they both attended Alexander Academy. It’s an expensive private school where the wealthy and celebrities send their kids. Shapiro attended on scholarship. Then, they both went to Berkeley. Javier came back to Vegas after graduation while Shapiro went on to med school. Of course, this doesn’t mean they knew each other, but…” She looked at him hopefully.
“I do not think it’s a coincidence,” Alejandro said.
“I don’t, either. Here’s something else.” She clicked on another tab. “Apparently, Dr. Shapiro goes to Tijuana pretty regularly. According to this article, he says he visits once a month to provide services at a clinic he opened there, offering the same oxygen therapy treatments.” She clicked on another tab. “Javier has a house in Tijuana.”
“Another coincidence.” Alejandro paced away from her. “Unfortunately, all we have are coincidences. Even the intake forms don’t mean anything. They are not incriminating by themselves. Dr. Shapiro and his staff more than likely have a very logical explanation for why they were testing patients’ organs for viability.”
Camila spun on the stool to face him. “We’d have to get something concrete on them. I mean, where are these patients? We know for sure Tommy is missing, but what about the others, and what percentage of the clinic’s patients go missing?”
Alejandro nodded slowly, looking at her as an idea formulated in his mind. “We could go to Tijuana.” When she looked surprised, he continued. “It’s a top medical tourism destination. If they are harvesting here, they are taking a big risk, so they are less likely to turn it into a full-fledged operation. Besides, if Doug uncovered what they were doing, they would have locked down tight in Vegas. They might have stopped altogether. In Tijuana, their guard will be down, and what better place to hide their operation than among all the reputable medical businesses?”
“Makes sense, but what would we do while we’re there?”
“We go to Tijuana, maybe pretend one of us needs oxygen therapy so we can look around the facility. We might be able to get incriminating evidence on Reyes and Shapiro. I have a friend who’s a taxi driver down there. I could make a call and have him meet us.”
Her lips puckered in a resolute way. “I’m game if you are. How soon do you want to go?”
“Right away. If these men are doing what we think they are, I want to stop them immediately and keep other people from getting hurt. Let me make a call, and in the meantime, you need to eat something.”
Camila wrinkled her nose. “My food is cold now.”
“That’s what microwaves are for. Take a break, and I will call my friend.” Alejandro returned to the living room and picked up his phone.