“I don’t know why they had such trouble,” Dree said, ruminating on it. “They’re an approved provider. It seems like they should be able to get all they need for whatever size facility they’re rated, but the government crackdown hurt small hospices and pain management clinics.”
“You said it wasn’t small. You said it washuge.”
“It’s huge for a hospice. They have ninety beds. Good Sam Hospital has over seven hundred, and it’s a level-one trauma center, but Peaceful Transitions probably uses as many heavy-duty narcotics as we do. A lot of our patients don’t take those for more than a day but then stay for five days. Their patients need high doses and increasingly higher doses the whole time they’re there.”
And then they didn’t need any pain relief, ever again.
Dree shivered and swallowed hard. She was used to that, though.
“But the government would take that into account,” Sister Ann said.
“They made rules before they understood people’s needs. A lot of people with documented pain diagnoses can’t get the medication that keeps them functional, let alone dying patients who can sometimes need quite a lot right at the end to control their pain. Again, what are you going to do, worry about an addiction problem in a patient who has hours to live?”
“So, why was Francis going around and begging for drugs for them?”
“He’s in supplies and purchasing, same as my secondary position at Good Sam.” Dree had those additional duties in addition to being an ER nurse.
Sister Ann pursed her lips. “Well, he should have just bought enough of it rather than troubling you so much.”
“Restrictions. Rationing. They were supposed to reduce their narcotics use and use less-addictive drugs instead. But they’re a hospice! They shouldn’t have to say to a dying patient, ‘why don’t you take this Tylenol instead of something that will actually control your pain because the facility is using too much fentanyl.’”
“So when they didn’t have enough, they got it from other sources. You were one of their suppliers.”
“Hospice care is important work. Everybody has to die sometime, so we’re all going to need a hospice at some point.”
“But why would they need such a large amount of drugs?”
“Because they’re huge. They have a solarium,” Dree said, remembering the brochure Francis had given her.
“Father Thomas was very adamant that they only had three beds and no chapels or counseling.”
“Maybe he wasn’t at Peaceful Transitions. Maybe he was at another hospice with a similar name. There aren’t a lot of good names for hospices. I mean, there’s Spirit of Life, Calm Reflections—”
Sister Ann’s frown deepened. When Dree was in high school, Sister Ann couldreallyfrown at naughty students, and the eight years since Dree had graduated had given Sister Ann a whole new set of lines to utilize in her disapproving frowns. “Father Thomas was absolutely sure. They had those brochures, and he asked where the rest of it was. They laughed at him. Why would they need so many narcotic drugs if they only have room for three patients?”
There was only one reason why anyone would want millions of doses of untraceable opioid narcotics.
Dree’s scalp and back turned cold like she’d lain down on a bed of ice. “Oh, my God.”
“Language!”
“That was a prayer, Sister Ann. That was a prayer to God the Father and the Son and the Holy Ghost and Mother Mary thatthis isn’t happening.”
“What isn’t?”
Dree asked her, “Could you please confirm with Father Thomas one more time that he was in the right place?Please?Just to make sure, because I’mprayingthis isn’t happening.”
“All right,” Sister Ann said, still frowning. She paused, chewing on her lower lip, and then she said, “You know, child, if you were ever in trouble, there are Catholic Charities assignments all over the world. Just like I asked around and found you that job at Good Sam and a place to stay, I could discreetly inquire about a placement for you somewhere far from Phoenix. Catholic Charitiesalwaysneeds medical staff and would appreciate your skills. They’d appreciate medical skills so much that we could erase any trail that led to you.”
Dree gasped, and she clenched her eyes shut. “Thank you, Sister Ann. I’ll keep that in mind.”
She hung up the phone and took a few minutes to freak out that Francis had been involved in some sort of a narcotic-dealing scheme and had suckered her into it. Her heart kicked in her chest like a jackrabbit.
After a few minutes, she told herself that she simply must calm down. There was nothing she could do about it now, and it was late Sunday night in France.
She would call the police tomorrow and tell them everything she knew.
Okay,she was okay. She didn’t want Augustine to know how upset she was. It was not her job to dump a bunch of angst on him. Her job was to screw him every way he wanted, and she had to admit that having sex with a hottie like him was the best job she’d ever had.
