"You waited three days to file this report."
"I needed to review the case documentation to ensure my suspicion met the clinical and ethical threshold for mandatory reporting." I held her gaze. "I wasn't deciding whether to tell you. I was confirming that the medical facts supported a good-faith report before involving law enforcement. I don't make accusations lightly, Detective."
Diaz studied me. Then she flipped to a fresh page in her notebook.
"I'll be straight with you, Dr. Rothwell. A statement made under the influence of fentanyl isn't admissible as a confession. His lawyers will argue diminished capacity, drug-induced psychosis, whatever gets it thrown out." She tapped her pen against the page. "But that's not nothing. What you're giving me is probable cause. Enough to file for a warrant, pull phone records, maybe get the traffic camera footage from that night that's been sitting in an evidence locker."
"I understand."
"I'm not sure you do." She set down her pen. "Once I file the DD5, the official complaint report, your name becomes part of the discovery process. The Councilman's legal team will have access. They'll know exactly who came forward and what you said."
"I know."
"This isn't a warning about dark alleys, Doctor. It's about paperwork. Subpoenas. Depositions. The kind of legal machinery that can grind very slowly and very publicly." Shepaused. "You're a physician. You know what a protracted legal battle can do to a medical license. A career."
"I've considered that."
"And?"
I thought about the Edwards family. What they'd been through. What they deserved.
"A family has spent six months not knowing who killed their son. The medical facts in my possession create an obligation I can't ignore." I met her eyes. "I've weighed the risks. The truth matters more than my comfort."
Diaz was quiet for a moment. Then she nodded slowly.
"I'll file the report today. You'll probably hear from the DA's office within the week. They'll want a formal statement.” She stood and extended her hand. "Thank you for coming forward, Dr. Rothwell. Most people in your position would’ve found a reason not to."
I shook her hand. "Most people didn't see his family in my ER."
CHAPTER 4
Ava
Three weekssince I filed the report.
Three weeks of waiting for something to happen.
Three weeks of checking over my shoulder, varying my route to work, jumping at shadows I used to ignore.
Pretending everything was fine.
My phone buzzed as I walked out of Queens General, the night shift finally over. I glanced at the screen.
Mom
Thinking of you, sweetheart. Your father and I would love to see you. Dinner this weekend?
Below it, another message from two days ago that I still hadn't answered:
Mom
Just checking in. Hope work isn't too stressful. Call when you can. Love, Mom.
I swiped the notifications away without responding.
Years of silence, and now suddenly my parents wanted to reconnect? I didn't have the bandwidth for their versionof concern. The kind that came with strings attached, with expectations, with the weight of everything I'd walked away from.
I had enough to deal with.
