Page 54 of Chase
“Where are the authorization paperwork and health checks?” he asks, confused, and I shrug.
“The doctor said these were ongoing. She’s seen the relevant paperwork. I was only given this and told to check her in.” He grumbles something I can’t hear. “What was that?”
“Nothing. Where is she now?”
“In the office with Dr. Rivera.” His look tells me this isn’t the answer he was looking for. “She’s the recipient’s niece, apparently.”
“Neither of us believe that.” He exhales dramatically. “Things are getting stranger by the day in this place. But we must do as we are told. The dragon has me by the balls, Sam. I can’t risk losing this job, and my pay is way above anything else I could get.” His questioning of the circumstances makes me want to tell him what I know, our suspicions on the organ theft and sale circuit. But Bryan is in deep; he’s been at Varley Medical for years and was aware of discrepancies long before I joined the team. I keep my mouth shut. “I’ll process this.” He gestures at the paper. “You go sort out the poor woman.”
“Thanks, Bryan,” I say, then return to the doctor’s office.
When I arrive back, the woman supposedly called Lauren is sitting up, staring blankly at the wall. She doesn’t turn when I open the door. The doctor is reading an academic paper regarding heart transplants at her desk.
“The room is ready,” I announce, and the doctors eyes flick to me. She nods but doesn’t speak. “Bryan was asking about the authorization form.”
“Tell him I will drop it on his desk later,” she responds curtly.
“Yes, doctor.” I move in front of my newest patient, stepping into her line of sight. Blank eyes flick up. “Would you like to come with me?” She rises without a word. At this proximity, she looks even more scraggy than before. Her eyes are swollen red from hours of crying. The dark, baggy clothes hang off her limp frame, each item clearly worn at the edges. “Do you have a bag?” I ask, and she shakes her head.
“You’ll need to organize some essentials for Lauren, nurse,” Dr. Rivera interjects. “She arrived here in somewhat of a hurry.”
A multitude of questions sit on my tongue, wanting to challenge my boss, but I know this is my opportunity to earn a little trust. If I shut this down now, I may jeopardize what we could learn about the wider operation going on. Against my morals, I merely nod, then signal for Lauren to follow me. We leave the office, her walking slightly behind at my shoulder.
Her room is only a minute away, and when I open the door, the smell of bleach hits my nostrils will full force. I immediately go over and open the windows the tiny portion they allow. “The cleaners have been liberal with the chemicals,” I say jovially, trying to strike up a thread of conversation. “The fresh air should clear the smell soon.”
“At least it's clean,” she replies, wistfully. Her tired eyes roam over the blank space. “Can I sleep? It’s been a while since…” Her words trail off, and a soft pink coats her cheeks. “I’ve not had much rest, the worry with my uncle’s condition, you see.”
“That’s understandable,” I tell her, not believing a word. “Where did you say you live?”
“In the city, not far from him.”
“And his own children weren’t able to donate?” I ask, taking a chance to confirm my suspicions.
“No,” she replies instantly. “They weren’t a suitable blood type.” The effort it takes to maintain a neutral expression is unbearable. Surely, if this were the Lord’s niece, she would know he had no children. I refrain from pointing this out.
“They’ll be grateful to you then, when they discover your selflessness.”
“Perhaps. Will you excuse me nurse? I really need to rest.”
“Of course.” I smile the most genuine smile I can muster. “Have a shower first. The bathroom is just through here; there’s shampoo, conditioner, and body wash. Towels are there as well. I’ll place some nightwear on the bed for your return.”
“Thank you,” she says, almost under her breath. The façade cracks slightly as her voice breaks.
“You get sorted, and I’ll pop in later when I have any updates.”
***
My shift ends while most of my colleagues are taking lunch. Early shift is a blessing; I get to finish my day at work and still have hours in the afternoon and evening to enjoy. Bryan left long ago and on my way out, I saunter past his desk in hope of snagging what I need. Lauren’s passport image stares back at me. Quickly, I pull my phone from my pocket and snap a photo, then make my way to the elevator.
On my descent, I look at the young woman who I’m obligated to care for, all the while wondering what I can do to help. I flick to my contacts, then swipe between the two men I need to tell about the revelations of the day. They’re next to each other in my contact list, as I listed them by their surname first. Unsure what to do, I create a group chat with the three of us, then send the photo of what I believe is forged identification.
Russell immediately responds with a shoulder-shrug emoji. At the top of the screen, the word, typing, flashes then his response pops onto the screen.
Sorry Trouble, not my type. And with my leg, I don’t think I’m capable of a threesome yet.
I laugh out loud; the woman who joined me in the compartment from the floor below frowns at me. “Sorry, my boyfriend is being a clown,” I tell her before realizing how I described him. Boyfriend. Just then, Connor responds, the concern clear from his text.
What do you need? I’m here.