Chapter 13 - THE RECORDING THAT COULD DESTROY THEM ALL
Smoke filled the room.
Emma began coughing.
Tomas shot the lock.
The bullet ricocheted.
“Magnetic seal.”
Willa grabbed a chair.
“What are you doing?”
“Window.”
They smashed the glass.
Three floors below, firefighters moved between trucks.
Too far to jump.
Tomas looked outside.
“Fire escape.”
It ended twenty feet away.
Willa saw maintenance cables running along the building.
“That pipe.”
Tomas stared.
“You’re insane.”
“Do you have another plan?”
Emma coughed harder.
Willa climbed onto the window ledge.
Tomas grabbed her.
“No.”
“I’m lighter than you.”
“You fall, Everett kills me.”
“He’ll have to learn to stand first.”
Willa climbed out.
Wind hit her.
She gripped the narrow pipe.
Below her, firefighters shouted.
She moved sideways.
One foot.
Then another.
Her shoe slipped.
Willa screamed.
Her body swung outward.
She caught the pipe with both hands.
“Willa!”
“I’m fine!”
She wasn’t.
Her arms burned.
She pulled herself back.
Finally, she reached the fire escape.
She kicked the release ladder.
It dropped.
Tomas guided Emma across.
Then followed.
They escaped moments before flames entered Room 317.
Outside, Emma was taken to an ambulance.
But she refused to leave.
“I need to tell you where the recording is.”
Willa leaned closer.
“Whitfield keeps a storage unit under another name.”
“What name?”
“Daniel Mercer.”
Tomas wrote it down.
Emma grabbed Willa’s hand.
“There’s something else.”
“What?”
“My dad wasn’t investigating the hospital.”
“He was investigating Sterling Kane.”
Willa went still.
“Why?”
“He worked as an accountant for one of the Kane trucking companies.”
Tomas cursed softly.
Emma continued.
“He found payments.”
“To police.”
“Judges.”
“Doctors.”
“And one massive account labeled Project Monarch.”
Willa looked at Tomas.
“What’s Project Monarch?”
Tomas shook his head.
“Never heard of it.”
Emma whispered.
“My dad did.”
“He said Sterling was building something Everett didn’t know about.”
Before she could continue, a shot cracked.
Emma jerked.
Blood appeared on her shoulder.
“Down!”
Tomas pulled both women behind the ambulance.
Another bullet struck metal.
Sniper.
Willa pressed her hand against Emma’s wound.
“It’s okay.”
Emma cried out.
Tomas scanned rooftops.
“Can you move?”
Willa nodded.
They dragged Emma inside the ambulance.
Police surged toward the shooter.
But Willa knew better.
Sterling wouldn’t be there.
He never stayed close to his own violence.
An hour later, they reached Whitfield’s storage facility.
Unit 408.
Tomas cut the lock.
Inside were boxes.
Hundreds.
Patient names.
Financial ledgers.
Medication vials.
Fake IDs.
Willa stared.
“This man kept trophies.”
Tomas opened a cabinet.
“Or insurance.”
They searched.
Finally, Emma found a small digital recorder sealed inside an evidence bag.
“My dad’s.”
Willa pressed play.
Static.
Then Harold Fisk’s voice.
“I’m recording this because if anything happens to me, somebody needs to know.”
Willa’s heart pounded.
Another voice appeared.
Sterling.
“You don’t understand what you found.”
Harold answered.
“I understand you’re using Kane trucks to move fentanyl.”
Tomas went rigid.
Everett had forbidden narcotics.
Sterling’s voice continued.
“My cousin is old-fashioned.”
“He thinks rules make us honorable.”
“Rules make us weak.”
Harold said.
“I’m telling Everett.”
Sterling laughed.
“You won’t get close enough.”
Then another voice.
Whitfield.
“I can make the medical side clean.”
Harold responded.
“Medical side?”
Sterling said.
“Project Monarch.”
“You move product through hospitals.”
“Whitfield creates patients who can’t complain.”
Willa covered her mouth.
The recording continued.
Harold asked.
“You’re killing people?”
Whitfield replied calmly.
“Only when necessary.”
A chair moved.
Harold said.
“You’re both insane.”
Sterling’s voice hardened.
“Everett can never know.”
The recording ended.
Tomas stared at Willa.
“This is enough.”
“To prove Harold was murdered?”
“To start.”
Willa looked at the boxes.
“And my case?”
“We take everything.”
A slow clap came from the entrance.
Willa turned.
Dr. Whitfield stood there.
Gun in hand.
“Excellent work.”
Tomas reached toward his jacket.
Whitfield pointed the weapon at Emma.
“Don’t.”
Tomas stopped.
Whitfield smiled.
“I’ve spent three years wondering where that recorder went.”
Emma looked terrified.
“You killed my father.”
Whitfield shrugged.
“Your father killed himself the moment he decided morality mattered more than survival.”
Willa stepped forward.
“Put the gun down.”
Whitfield laughed.
“You still think you’re a nurse.”
“I am a nurse.”
“No.”
“I took that from you.”
Willa looked at him.
“You took a license.”
“You didn’t take what I know.”
Whitfield’s smile faded.
Sirens sounded faintly outside.
He looked toward Tomas.
“You called police?”
Tomas smiled.
“No.”
Whitfield frowned.
Then Everett’s voice came from behind him.
“I did.”
Whitfield turned.
Everett Kane stood at the entrance.
A cane in one hand.
A pistol in the other.
Three men stood behind him.
Willa stared.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
Everett looked at her.
“Marriage apparently destroyed my judgment.”
Whitfield raised his weapon.
Everett fired first.
The bullet struck Whitfield’s gun hand.
He screamed.
Tomas tackled him.
Willa rushed forward.
Everett swayed.
She grabbed him.
“You were supposed to stay in bed.”
“I was bored.”
“You were dead yesterday.”
“Improving quickly.”
Despite everything, Willa laughed.
Then Whitfield started laughing from the floor.
Everett looked at him.
“What’s funny?”
Whitfield smiled through the pain.
“You think Sterling is running.”
“He isn’t.”
Everett’s expression changed.
Whitfield continued.
“He’s going where this started.”
Willa knew before he said it.
“The Kane estate.”
May you like
Whitfield nodded.
“And he knows where you hid the ledger.”
