Chapter 5 - THE MAN ABOVE STERLING
Grant Allison had retired from St. Ambrose eighteen months earlier.
At least officially.
According to public records, he now chaired three medical foundations, sat on two corporate boards and spent most of his time giving speeches about ethics in modern healthcare.
Willa almost laughed when Naomi told her.
“Ethics?”
Naomi closed the laptop.
“People love preaching what they don’t practice.”
Everett slept while they researched.
Mara searched corporate filings.
Crowley made calls to people still loyal to Everett.
Naomi studied the medical evidence.
Willa sat beside Everett.
By evening, his speech had improved slightly.
Not enough for long conversations.
But enough.
“Why Allison?” Willa asked.
Everett stared toward the darkened windows.
“He wanted… routes.”
“What routes?”
“My company.”
“For weapons?”
Everett nodded.
“Sterling involved?”
“Eventually.”
“What happened before the crash?”
Everett closed his eyes, gathering strength.
“Found shipments.”
“Illegal shipments?”
“Yes.”
“From where?”
“Baltimore. Norfolk. Houston.”
“Going where?”
“Chicago first. Then north.”
“Canada?”
A pause.
Everett nodded.
Mara stood by the wall.
“Why would Grant Allison, a hospital executive, be involved in weapons trafficking?”
Everett looked at her.
“Not weapons only.”
Willa felt a chill.
“What else?”
“People.”
Silence.
Mara’s face changed.
“Human trafficking?”
Everett did not answer verbally.
He didn’t need to.
Willa sat back.
Sterling Kane’s crimes were no longer simply about corporate power.
Everett continued.
“Medical transfers.”
Naomi frowned.
“What does that mean?”
“Ambulances. Organ transport. Charity flights.”
Willa understood before Naomi did.
Medical networks offered unique access.
Vehicles crossed checkpoints.
Cargo was protected.
Emergency transfers received fewer questions.
“Allison was using hospital systems as cover,” she said.
Everett nodded.
“And Kane Logistics moved whatever came afterward.”
“Yes.”
“Did you confront Sterling?”
“Wrong person.”
“Who?”
Everett looked exhausted.
Willa reached for water.
He refused.
“Whitfield?”
“No.”
“Allison?”
Everett nodded.
“What did he say?”
For the first time, anger changed Everett’s face.
“He laughed.”
Mara moved closer.
“You confronted Allison personally?”
“At gala.”
Willa remembered that gala.
Three years ago, St. Ambrose held an annual fundraiser at the Drake Hotel.
She had worked that evening.
So had Whitfield.
And Harold Fisk, the patient whose death destroyed her career, had been transferred into ICU shortly after midnight.
Willa’s hands went cold.
“What date?”
Everett told her.
The exact same night.
She stood abruptly.
“No.”
Naomi looked at her.
“What?”
“Harold Fisk.”
“The patient?”
“He came into ICU that night.”
Everett’s gaze sharpened.
Willa continued.
“He was conscious when he arrived. Agitated. Kept saying someone was trying to kill him.”
Naomi remembered.
“I saw him in the emergency department.”
“He had bruising around his wrists.”
“Police said confusion from hypoxia.”
“He told me he worked in freight auditing.”
Mara whispered, “For Kane?”
Everett answered.
“Yes.”
The room fell silent.
Willa felt the past rearranging itself in her mind.
Harold Fisk had not been a random patient.
He had been connected to Everett.
Perhaps to the investigation.
“Did Harold work for you directly?” she asked.
Everett nodded.
“What did he find?”
“Container numbers.”
“Evidence?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
Everett looked toward the small black phone on the table.
“Need computer.”
Mara brought a laptop.
Everett’s hands remained too weak to type reliably, so Willa held the device while he dictated.
“Open… Kane cloud.”
Mara stared.
“That network was shut down after your accident.”
“Old portal.”
He gave her an obscure web address.
The login screen appeared.
“Password?”
Everett looked at Willa.
“Wedding date.”
She blinked.
“Our wedding date?”
“No. Parents.”
Mara entered it.
Access denied.
Everett frowned.
“Reverse.”
She reversed the numbers.
The screen opened.
Inside were encrypted folders.
Hundreds.
Everett guided them toward one titled FISK.
Mara clicked.
A password prompt appeared.
“Harold’s badge number,” Everett said.
Willa remembered it.
She had documented his personal effects.
“47219.”
The folder opened.
Shipping records filled the screen.
Invoices.
Photographs.
Vehicle registrations.
Hospital transfer documents.
One image showed a St. Ambrose ambulance parked beside a Kane Logistics warehouse at 2:13 a.m.
Another showed Grant Allison entering a loading bay.
Another showed Sterling speaking with two men beside unmarked crates.
Naomi covered her mouth.
“This is enough for federal charges.”
“No,” Everett whispered.
They looked at him.
“Not enough.”
“Why?”
“Need ledger.”
“What ledger?”
“Master.”
“Where is it?”
Everett’s eyes moved toward Willa.
“Harold hid it.”
“Before he died?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
Everett breathed slowly.
“He told me… nurse had it.”
Willa stared.
“What nurse?”
Everett’s eyes remained on hers.
“You.”
Her stomach dropped.
“I never had a ledger.”
“He said… gave you key.”
Memory struck her.
Harold Fisk’s last night.
He had been frightened.
He had kept reaching beneath his hospital blanket.
Hours before his death, he had grabbed Willa’s hand and pressed something into her palm.
A small metal tag.
She had thought it belonged to his luggage.
After he died, investigators searched his belongings.
Willa had placed the tag in her locker.
Then forgotten it during the chaos of losing her license.
Her old employee locker.
St. Ambrose.
“Three years,” she whispered.
Naomi stood.
“What?”
“The key might still be at the hospital.”
Everett’s eyes widened.
Willa looked at Naomi.
“Do you still have access to St. Ambrose?”
Naomi hesitated.
“Yes.”
“Then we’re going tonight.”
Mara shook her head.
“No.”
“If that key leads to the master ledger, it could expose Allison.”
“It could also be a trap.”
Willa looked toward Everett.
He whispered something.
“Let her.”
Mara stared at him.
“You’ve known this woman nine days.”
Everett’s gaze moved toward Willa.
His voice was weak.
But the conviction was unmistakable.
“She saved me.”
Willa felt heat rise unexpectedly behind her eyes.
Then Everett added one more sentence.
“And Allison already knows she’s alive.”
Naomi frowned.
“How?”
Everett looked toward the television.
Mara turned it on.
Breaking news filled the screen.
A photograph of Willa appeared beside Everett’s.
The headline read:
EVERETT KANE REPORTED DEAD AFTER MEDICAL EMERGENCY.
Willa stared.
The anchor continued.
Authorities were searching for Willa Hayes Kane in connection with Everett Kane’s suspected death.
A photograph appeared of the gray maintenance van abandoned at the boathouse.
Then another headline.
DISGRACED FORMER NURSE SUSPECTED OF INTERFERING WITH TREATMENT.
Willa slowly turned toward the others.
May you like
Sterling had done more than report Everett dead.
He had made Willa his murderer.
