Chapter 14 - THE GOOD DOCTOR
Dr. Molina disappeared before police reached his office.
That told Andrés everything.
His house was empty.
Passport gone.
Cash withdrawn.
Phone turned off.
The respectable family doctor who had appeared ashamed, helpful, frightened—
Had been part of it.
Not because he wanted Teresa’s house.
Because he wanted money.
Investigators found payments.
César to Molina.
Molina to an offshore account.
Then Teresa’s medical history.
Bank information.
Medication list.
All accessed through Molina’s clinic account.
He had given Renata the data required to make the fabricated dementia story believable.
The sedatives weren’t prescribed by him.
He was smarter than that.
He merely told them which drug would create the symptoms they wanted.
Andrés felt sick.
He had sat across from Molina and believed part of his performance.
Not all of it.
Enough.
Salgado said, “Don’t beat yourself up.”
“I’m not.”
“You look like you are.”
“I’m thinking.”
“About?”
“How many other families he did this to.”
The answer was seventeen.
Seventeen elderly patients whose records had been accessed without medical reason.
Five later transferred property.
Three entered private care facilities.
One died less than two months after signing over her home.
Federal investigators joined the case.
Banking crimes.
Medical privacy violations.
Organized fraud.
Kidnapping.
Attempted murder.
The case became national news.
Andrés hated every second of it.
Reporters waited outside the hospital.
Neighbors gave interviews.
People online argued over Teresa’s sanity as though they had known her for years.
Mrs. Lucha appeared on television and said, “That woman knew exactly what was happening. We just didn’t listen.”
That sentence haunted Andrés.
We just didn’t listen.
Three weeks later, a border alert caught Molina at the airport in Tijuana using another man’s passport.
When officers searched his luggage, they found $48,000 in cash.
He confessed within two days.
Not because he felt guilty.
Because he wanted a deal.
Molina named Valdés.
Named César.
Named Mateo.
Named Renata.
He described the system.
Older patient.
Property.
Family conflict.
Medical confusion.
Isolation.
Forgery.
Sale.
Profit.
Repeat.
Teresa had almost become one more file.
Except for one problem.
Andrés came home early.
Molina admitted something else.
Renata had originally planned to move Teresa into a private facility.
Once there, they would increase the sedatives until she appeared incapable of making decisions.
And after the house sold?
Andrés asked the investigator.
The man hesitated.
“Captain…”
“Say it.”
“There are messages suggesting Teresa would suffer a fatal medication event.”
Andrés looked through the hospital-room glass at his mother.
She was walking slowly with physical therapy.
Alive because a mission in the Sierra had ended four days earlier than scheduled.
Four days.
That was all.
One delay.
One changed order.
One commander sending a unit home early.
And Teresa would probably be dead.
That night, Andrés sat beside her.
She looked at him.
“Why are you staring?”
“I’m thinking.”
“Dangerous habit.”
He smiled.
She poked his arm.
“Go home.”
“I am home.”
“No.”
Teresa looked toward the hospital door.
“You know what I mean.”
The house.
The locked bedroom.
The memories.
Andrés shook his head.
“I don’t want to go there.”
“Then sell it.”
He looked at her.
“You fought this hard to keep it.”
“I fought because they tried to take my choice.”
She smiled.
“If I choose to sell it, that’s different.”
Andrés laughed.
“Stubborn.”
“You got it from me.”
“Unfortunately.”
He kissed her forehead.
Then his phone rang.
Javier.
Andrés answered.
“What?”
Javier’s voice sounded strange.
“We opened the evidence box from Molina’s clinic.”
“And?”
“There’s a file with your name.”
Andrés frowned.
“My name?”
“Not Teresa’s.”
“Mine.”
“Yes.”
“What kind of file?”
Javier paused.
“A life insurance policy.”
Andrés slowly stood.
“Who is the beneficiary?”
He already knew.
May you like
But Javier said it anyway.
“Renata.”
