Chapter 7 - The Doctor's Office-7
While Candice and her family were speeding north along Interstate 95 in a rented SUV, Gabriel was standing in the lobby of the Arlington Medical Center in suburban Columbus.
It was 11:00 AM on Saturday.
The private medical practice of Dr. Thomas Harrison was quiet. The waiting room smelled of lavender air freshener and leather seats. Behind the glass reception desk sat a young receptionist typing on a computer.
Gabriel stepped up to the counter, accompanied by Frank Vance and Sarah Jenkins.
“Can I help you?” the receptionist asked, offering a professional smile.
“I’m here to see Dr. Harrison,” Gabriel said. “Tell him Gabriel Lawson is here regarding the medical files of Lucas Lawson.”
The receptionist looked at her screen. “Do you have an appointment, Mr. Lawson? Dr. Harrison is currently reviewing patient charts before his afternoon appointments.”
“He’ll see me,” Gabriel said flatly.
Frank didn't wait. He pushed open the wooden security door leading to the inner examination rooms, walking with the heavy, unyielding stride of a veteran military police commander.
“Hey! You can’t go back there!” the receptionist yelled, jumping up from her chair.
Dr. Thomas Harrison was sitting in his plush corner office, wearing a white lab coat, reviewing a physical file on his desk. He was a silver-haired man in his late fifties with gold-rimmed spectacles and an air of aristocratic superiority.
The office door swung open, slamming against the wall.
Dr. Harrison looked up, his brow furrowing in irritation. “What is the meaning of this? Who are you?”
Gabriel stepped into the room, followed by Frank and Sarah. Frank closed the door behind them and clicked the lock.
“Dr. Harrison,” Gabriel said, stepping up to the heavy mahogany desk and laying down a thick stack of printed medical records. “My name is Gabriel Lawson. I’m the father of Lucas Lawson—the boy you’ve been certifying as 'clumsy and self-harming' for the last two years.”
Dr. Harrison’s expression instantly shifted from irritation to guarded caution. He adjusted his glasses, leaning back in his leather chair.
“Ah, Mr. Lawson,” Harrison said smoothly, trying to maintain his professional composure. “I understand you might be distressed. Lucas is a troubled young man. As I’ve explained to your wife, Candice, his self-inflicted contusions are a classic symptom of adolescent emotional disturbance—”
Gabriel reached across the desk, grabbed Dr. Harrison by the lapels of his white coat, and pulled him forward until their faces were inches apart.
“Don't you lie to me,” Gabriel growled, his voice a gravelly tremor of rage. “I saw the yellowing bruises on my son’s forearms. I saw the marks on his back. And I saw the monthly $10,000 'consulting fees' paid to your personal account from Sunrise Horizon LLC.”
Dr. Harrison’s face drained of color. He tried to pull back, but Gabriel’s grip was like an iron vise.
“You signed Arthur Vance’s death certificate,” Gabriel said, his eyes burning into the doctor’s. “You signed Harold Jenkins’ death certificate. You certified their deaths as natural heart failure and accidental falls so Candice could collect millions in insurance payouts.”
“Release me immediately or I will call the police!” Harrison choked out, his hands clawing at Gabriel’s wrists.
Frank Vance stepped forward, pulling a gold badge and a federal subpoena from his jacket, laying it on the desk right next to Harrison’s laptop.
“The police are already on their way, Doctor,” Frank said calmly. “Federal medical fraud investigators executed a search warrant on your home in Powell forty minutes ago. They found the offshore bank records you kept in your wine cellar.”
Harrison froze. His eyes darted from Frank’s badge to the subpoena, his breathing becoming shallow and rapid.
“You have a choice right now, Harrison,” Frank continued, leaning over the desk. “You can go down as a co-conspirator in a capital murder and insurance fraud syndicate and spend the rest of your life in a state penitentiary. Or you can give us the complete medical ledger showing every false certificate you signed for Candice, Evelyn, and Patricia.”
Dr. Harrison’s hands began to shake uncontrollably. He looked at Gabriel’s dark, unyielding face, then at Frank.
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“They... they forced me,” Harrison whimpered, his aristocratic arrogance collapsing into pure cowardice. “Evelyn had photos of me... from an incident ten years ago... she blackmailed me! I had no choice!”
“You always have a choice,” Gabriel said, releasing his grip and letting Harrison fall back into his chair like a rag doll. “Start talking. Before my patience runs out.”
