Chapter 5 - MY SISTER'S TERRIBLE SECRET“I WAS THERE, NICK! I FOUND EMILY BLEEDING ON THE CONCRETE! BUT IF YOU KNEW WHAT WAS INSIDE THAT FOLDER, YOU'D UNDERSTAND WHY I WAS TERRIFIED TO CALL YOU!”
Ava's voice broke as she said it.
We were back in my office.
Detective Ortiz stood beside the door.
Two hours earlier, she'd shown me the photograph of my sister kneeling beside Emily in the parking garage.
I'd wanted to drive straight to Ava's apartment.
Ortiz had stopped me.
“This is an investigation, Mr. Mitchell. Not a family argument.”
She'd insisted on speaking with Ava herself.
Now we stood in a private conference room while snow drifted past the windows.
My sister looked smaller than I'd ever seen her.
“Start at the beginning,” Ortiz said.
Ava twisted a tissue between her fingers.
“Emily called me yesterday afternoon. She said she'd found something connected to the missing shelter residents.”
“What?” Ortiz asked.
“Documents. Transfers. Names.”
“Did she tell you where she got them?”
“No. She said she'd explain when we met.”
I stared at her.
“You were meeting Emily?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
Ava looked up sharply.
“Because she specifically asked me not to.”
The answer hurt.
But I couldn't blame Emily.
I'd made myself the last person she could trust.
“Continue,” Ortiz said.
“We were supposed to meet at nine. Emily wanted me to help her take the documents to an attorney.”
“What kind of attorney?”
“Someone who could help protect her and the women from Blue Lantern. She didn't want the information disappearing inside Mitchell Holdings.”
I felt the accusation without Ava needing to say it.
Emily had feared my organization would bury the truth.
And given what we'd discovered, she had every reason to.
“At 8:52, I got a message from an unknown number,” Ava continued.
“What did it say?”
She swallowed.
“Your friend is running out of time.”
Ortiz's expression sharpened.
“Do you still have the message?”
“Yes.”
“Good. We'll need it.”
Ava continued.
“I called Emily, but she didn't answer. I drove to her building.”
“What time did you arrive?”
“Around 9:15.”
“What did you see?”
Her eyes filled with tears.
“Her car was parked near the elevator. The driver's door was open.”
She pressed her hands together.
“I called her name. Then I saw her lying beside a concrete pillar.”
My chest tightened.
“She was conscious?”
“Barely.”
Ava's voice trembled.
“She was bleeding. She kept trying to sit up, but she couldn't.”
I closed my eyes.
I could picture it too clearly.
Emily alone in a dark garage.
Frightened.
Injured.
Trying to protect the baby growing inside her.
“What did she say?” I asked.
Ava looked at me.
“She said, ‘Don't let him take it.’”
“Take what?”
“The folder.”
Ortiz leaned forward.
“Where is that folder now?”
Ava hesitated.
“In my apartment.”
The detective's expression hardened.
“You removed potential evidence from an assault scene?”
“I know.”
“You understand how serious that is?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn't you give it to the responding officers?”
Ava covered her face.
“Because the documents had my name on them.”
I stared at her.
“What?”
She lowered her hands.
“I'd approved some of the payments. I didn't know what they were really for. Sebastian told me they were emergency shelter expenses.”
The room went silent.
Ava looked at me with unmistakable shame.
“I signed the approval summaries without checking the supporting documents.”
I felt sick.
The same dangerous habit existed throughout my organization.
Blind loyalty.
Blind signatures.
Blind confidence that people we trusted would never betray us.
“Did you call an ambulance?” Ortiz asked.
“Yes. From a prepaid phone. I'd bought it because I thought someone was monitoring our office communications.”
“Why did you leave?”
Ava's voice dropped.
“Because I heard a vehicle coming back into the garage.”
She trembled.
“I thought whoever hurt Emily had returned. I hid behind a parked van until the ambulance arrived.”
“Then?”
“I left.”
Ortiz watched her carefully.
“You left without identifying yourself.”
Ava nodded.
“Because I was scared.”
“Of the attacker?”
“Of everyone.”
A tear slipped down her cheek.
“I thought the police might believe I'd hurt Emily. And I knew Nick would go after whoever he suspected.”
I looked away.
She wasn't wrong.
The old me would have done exactly that.
Ava stood.
“I'll give you everything. The folder, the phone, every message. I should have come forward immediately.”
Ortiz nodded.
“That's what needs to happen now.”
She stepped outside to arrange collection of the evidence.
For a moment, Ava and I were alone.
“Nick,” she whispered. “I'm sorry.”
I looked at my sister.
I remembered teaching her to ride a bicycle when she was six.
I remembered promising our mother I'd always protect her.
And suddenly I saw how badly I'd misunderstood what protection meant.
“I made you afraid to tell me the truth,” I said.
She shook her head.
“You didn't make the decisions I made.”
“No. But I helped build the kind of world where telling the truth feels dangerous.”
Ava began crying quietly.
I pulled her into my arms.
For the first time in years, I didn't tell her everything would be fine.
I simply held her.
Because some things couldn't be fixed with money or threats.
Some things required admitting what we'd done.
An hour later, Detective Ortiz returned with preliminary photographs of the documents.
There were bank transfers.
Invoices.
Names of shell companies.
And a series of emergency financial authorizations.
Then I saw the signature.
My own.
Nicholas Mitchell.
I stared at the date.
Eight months earlier.
I remembered signing a stack of approvals Sebastian had brought into my office.
He'd told me the payments were connected to restructuring several companies after a shipment went missing.
I'd been distracted.
Angry.
Impatient.
I'd barely glanced at the papers.
And now my signature appeared on documents authorizing millions of dollars in transfers through organizations supposedly protecting vulnerable families.
“Nick?” Ava whispered.
I couldn't answer.
I had spent the night wondering who was responsible for the attack on Emily.
Now I was looking at evidence that my own negligence had helped create the circumstances surrounding it.
My phone rang.
It was the hospital.
I answered immediately.
“Mr. Mitchell?” Dr. Whitmore said.
“Yes?”
“Emily has regained consciousness.”
Everything inside me stopped.
“Is she okay?”
“She's confused and in pain, but she's awake. She's been asking questions about her baby.”
My knees weakened.
“Can I see her?”
There was a brief pause.
“She also asked about you.”
I couldn't speak.
“Mr. Mitchell?”
“What did she say?”
The doctor's voice became careful.
“She asked whether you'd discovered what Sebastian was doing.”
I gripped the edge of the table.
“And?”
“She said there was something she needed you to know.”
Twenty minutes later, I stood beside Emily's hospital bed.
Her brown eyes slowly opened.
For the first time in three months, she looked directly at me.
“Nick?”
I took her hand.
“I'm here, sweetheart.”
Tears gathered in her eyes.
I waited for her to ask why I'd abandoned her.
I waited for her to tell me to leave.
May you like
Instead, she whispered four words.
“You signed the papers.”
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