Page 78 of Every Last One
She nodded. “After the autopsy, he tried to hire a lawyer, but they told him a misdiagnosis wasn’t malpractice. You see, if the doctors had thought about running a certain test, they would have seen her illness and could have treated it with a common run of antibiotics. But as the lawyer put it, the doctor had acted in what he felt was in the best interests of the patient. It dragged on for a few months, but it came down to the fact she was gone, and there was nothing he or anyone could do about it. I still can’t believe it’s come to this. Storming into Founders with a gun.”
“Was Tom burdened by medical debt from this?” Eric was searching for all the reoccurring themes he could find among the hostage takers.
“Oh, yeah. They only had basic medical coverage and had leveraged all they had for the surgery. They thought it would be worth it if she got better. He just never expected…”
For her to die.Eric filled in the rest. Tom Sparling was deep in debt with nothing left to live for. He’d already shot two people. Would it end there?
FORTY-FOUR
6:00 PM
The picture was getting clearer by the update. A flood of information seemed to hit all at once, and Sandra wished it had only come sooner.
Sandra had tried seven times in the last hour to reach Ashmore and the two of her collaborators who were still conscious, without luck. None of them were answering her calls whether it be through the hospital lines or trying their personal cell phone numbers.
Now that they knew Mindy Ashmore’s identity, they had her active cell number. It wasn’t doing Sandra any good either. If she didn’t get someone inside to talk to her soon, she expected more pressure to come from Kreiger about moving in. Something had to give, that much she knew.
Neal pocketed his phone. He’d taken a few back-to-back calls from officers he had out in the field. “All right, people, I’ve got more news. Officer Moore had a talk with Perkins’s mother, and we gained valuable information about the brother and insight into Shane himself. The brother ultimately died of a drug-induced stroke. Efforts made by the doctors at Founders Hospital failed, and the treatments resulted in significant debt to the family. The mother, who assumed financial responsibility, isstruggling to keep her head above water. And that’s working two jobs.”
“Let me guess. Shane’s reeling from the loss of his brother and can’t take watching his mother run herself into the ground,” Monica said.
“Bingo.” Neal pointed his finger at her. “It also wouldn’t help that Shane was diagnosed with OCD.”
“Which would explain his ladder routine of two steps up, one back,” Sandra worked in.
“It would,” Neal agreed. “But due to the OCD, he likes order and calm. According to his mother, losing his brother only intensified his condition. He wanted to fix everything, but he’s not in any position to do that either. She blames herself for not wanting to let go of her son when it was already clear he was brain-dead, and only machines were keeping him alive.”
“I can’t even imagine making that call,” Brice put in, and Sandra shook her head.
“And that’s what you meant byultimatelydied from the stroke?” Sandra asked Neal.
“That’s right. And the second call was from Detective Birch,” Neal said.
Just hearing his name had Sandra sitting up straighter.
“He’s spoken with Tom’s daughter.” Neal filled them in on his findings.
“That confirms that three out of the four hostage takers inside owe great sums of money to the hospital. How much do you want to bet the same applies to Mindy Ashmore?” Brice said.
“Not only that,” Sandra began, “but three out of four lost a loved one in this hospital.”
“Ah, I just received an email from my contact in the billing department,” Luis said. He picked up when everyone fell silent. “Feeney, we know about. An account for Perkins owes a hundred grand, Sparling owes one hundred and seventy-five K, andMindy Ashmore owes two hundred and fifty thousand. All the accounts have now been forwarded to a collection agency.”
“Holy hell.” Brice whistled.
“And where do the Ashmores work?” Sandra looked at Gibson.
“Nothing that would make them that much money a year combined. Gross,” he said. “She’s in admin for an office supply company, and he works at a garage.”
There was a knock on the door, and Brice answered as he was the closest.
“Officer Hernandez. I’m here with Dylan Ashmore.”
“Yes, please come in.” Brice stepped back, and a man entered the vehicle. “Thank you for coming, Mr. Ashmore.”
The man’s gaze darted around the vehicle at all of them. “Sure, but I don’t understand why I’m here.”
Sandra glanced at Neal. He must have told Hernandez to just bring him back here without providing a reason. “Mr. Ashmore, I’m Special Agent Sandra Vos.” Then she introduced Brice and the rest of them. “It might be best if you sat down.”
