Nick considered her words as another hand went up. A short brunette with a round face stood up by the mic.
"Are you gonna do a season or a series about our mother's case?" she asked Ava. "You know, like a more detailed look at what happened to her?"
Ava expected someone to ask the question when she agreed to do the event. There was no getting around it. She caught Burnett's eye, but his face was blank.
"As many of you might have heard, my mother has been found, and she's no longer missing," she told the audience. "At this time, her murder hasn't been solved, and the investigation is still ongoing. I have previously done an episode on her case on my show, and you might have heard me talk about the case on other podcasts."
She looked over at Lori, who gave her a slight nod.
"I started my podcast to give families an avenue for sharing the stories of their loved ones, just as I have done for my mother. Having said that, I've been in talks with my producer about the possibility of creating a season of The Missing Voices dedicated to the story of Sharon Novak or creating a separate show about it."
There was a brief murmur of voices as more hands shot up in the air. A tall thin man with a short crop of blond hair and matching goatee stood up.
"Is there a suspect?" he asked.
"Do the police know who did it?" asked another voice at the same time.
"What happened to the three million dollars?" someone else demanded.
Questions fired from the audience like lightbulbs from paparazzi cameras. Ava tried not to let them get to her. She could feel her heart beating in her throat, and her hands felt clammy. The audience was slowly turning into a mob.
"Everyone, stop talking" Kevin stood up, his voice rising over the audience. "I know everyone is excited about this case, but let's keep things civil. Ava is here as our guest, and this is not an interrogation." He glanced over at her, giving her a reassuring smile. "Is there anything else you'd like to add?"
"Only that the investigation is still ongoing," Ava said, trying to maintain her calm. "When I can share Sharon's story, I'd like it to be a complete one. To do that, the police must do their work first, and I'm working closely with them to find out who did this to her."
Ava sat through the rest of what was left of the event and bolted the moment it was over.
***
Tyler had mixed feelings about amateur sleuths. The majority of them were people who considered themselves crime solvers after watching crime shows and binging on true crime podcasts. In reality, they were driven by fantasies built around solving crimes rather than actual experience or knowledge. They preferred over-the-top conspiracy theories and elaborate possibilities while often dismissing the tedious, which often led to actually solving cases.
But the fact was many amateur detectives, in addition to their craving for true crime, had means that police often didn't. Many murder cases went cold due to a lack of resources. People, unfortunately, don't wait for the old cases to be solved to inflict pain on each other, and there is only so much manpower to go around.
Tyler remembered the toll old cases took on his grandfather. They stayed with him long after he had retired. He would have loved the crime community's quest for answers and their inventiveness. Tyler was used to getting wild theories and useless tips from armchair sleuths. Every now and then, there was a crumb or a seemingly random memory that helped him solve a case. Those were rare, but they made a difference.
None of the cases mentioned in Ava's podcast had anything to do with him. Still, Tyler found himself drawn to them anyway. He could definitely admire all the work that went into each episode and often wondered about the investigations professionally. Ava was a great storyteller and had a way of humanizing the victims.
Yes, Tyler smiled. Grandpa would have liked Ava. The fact that she cared so much would have meant a lot to him.
Tyler's mind snapped to attention the moment the first question about Sharon came up. The conversation escalated quickly, and he could see Ava tense up in front of the crowd. He looked around, searching for anyone that looked out of place, which was challenging in a group of true crime-obsessed fans.
There was no uniform look that could set someone apart from the group that was already so versatile. From teenagers to the middle-aged. Men and women of different backgrounds and walks of life, linked by their obsession with true crime.
Tyler considered intervening but opted to let it play out. Ave held her own and didn't disclose any vital information about the investigation. She looked a bit frazzled by the questioning but didn't give up. He knew that getting amateurs involved in police work had its risks, even if they were family members of the victim. He hoped he wasn't wrong by getting her involved. Then again, if he didn't, she was doing quite well on her own.
As Tyler mused about overly enthusiastic crowds, his phone vibrated. He didn't recognize the number, and before he had a chance to answer, it went to voicemail. As the crowd mingled, he left to look for a quiet spot and called his voicemail.
There were two messages. He deleted the first one and skipped to the second. As he listened, he felt a chill go down his spine. Frank Mitchell was dead.
"Shit," he murmured as he went back inside. The meetup was still in full swing as the crowd buzzed with excitement. Since Ava was still busy, he decided to send her a message later as he made his way out.
Chapter 12
After the adventures of the last few days, Ava welcomed the distraction a night out offered. She sighed as Lori handed out shot glasses filled with alcohol. She closed her eyes, tossed back the clear liquid and let the alcohol coat her throat.
At this point, they were all tipsy, fuelled by the dance music pumping through the speakers. Ava looked over as Odessa laughed at something Lori said, but she continued to sway to the music. She was still sore, but the alcohol helped to dull the pain.
And to think that she woke up that morning seriously tempted to get out of the girls' night deal. But Lori wouldn't take no for an answer, and Ava found herself in her hotel room as they got ready for their night out. Even Nick encouraged her to go out. She suspected that he wanted her busy elsewhere so he could go out himself.
Now, several hours of dancing and copious amounts of alcohol later, Ava decided a night out was exactly what she needed. For all she knew, Nick was out on a hot date, which was none of her business.
"You know what?" she told her companions with a drunken grin. "I'm glad we did this. All of it."
"Girl, that's why I've been trying to get you to come out for ages," Lori laughed. She turned to Odessa and pointed at Ava. "She never wants to come out. It's like pulling teeth with her. Every single time."
"Then you should come to Toronto more often, and we can do this again," Odessa said, moving some of the empty glasses away from their drinks. "You now have two friends in town."
Her companions hooted like drunken sailors sharing a joke. She rolled her eyes, then downed the remains of her drink and set the empty glass on the bar. Ava lost count of how many drinks and shots they consumed. She was pretty sure they drank their weight in booze. It was edging close to the last call at the bar when they decided to call it a night.
They stumbled artfully outside. It was a warm evening, and the streets were filled with party-goers in various stages of inebriation. Ava felt great. The light breeze felt so good against her skin. But now, she was exhausted and wanted nothing but her bed. Ava took out her phone to request a ride when she heard Odessa's voice.
"Ahhh, look," Odessa beamed. "The guys are here."
Ava looked in the direction she pointed. Steve and Nick were leaning against the Jeep, watching them. Odessa stumbled into Steve's arms as she giggled.
"We drank a lot," she told him.
"Yeah, I can tell, baby," he laughed, stroking her hair. "Let's get you home."
They said their goodbyes. As Steve guided Odessa into his car, Lori gave Ava a quick hug. Her ride pulled up smoothly at the curb seconds later, and she slipped artfully
inside.
Nick leaned against his car, arms crossed as he watched Ava hesitate. After a brief pause, she walked up beside him and leaned against the car. His hot date must have ended already, she thought.
"Fancy running into you here," she said.
"Thought you could use a ride, boss," he said as he brushed the bangs out of her eyes. "And, I brought food."
"Chicken souvlaki?" she asked hopefully.
"With extra tomatoes," he winked at her. "Just how you like it."
"Sold."
Ava didn't realize how hungry she was until she stuffed her face with food. With all the alcohol she consumed over the last several hours, this was precisely what she needed. She glanced over at Nick as he navigated the streets. Dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, with a ball cap sitting backwards on his head, he had that no-care in the world look that suited him so well.
Sensing her staring at him, Nick looked over and smiled.
"What?" she asked.
"You starting to get sweet on me?" he teased.
"Don't flatter yourself."
"Nothing to be ashamed of, you know."
"You wish."
Nick smiled as he drove. Ava didn't even realize she was dozing off until the car stopped. Nick opened her door and helped her get out.
"How much did you drink?" he asked as she practically fell into his arms.
"Too much or not enough," she said. "Depends on who you ask."
"There is that," Nick held on to her, guiding them along the walkway. "Watch your step."
The moment they stepped on the porch, Nick sensed something was off. Stan's door was slightly ajar. The light he typically left on when Ava was out was also dark.
"Wait here," he said, instinctively trying to hold her back.
"What?" she asked. "What's wrong?"
He pointed at the open door. "Let me check it out first."
But she was faster. Not giving Nick a chance to stop her, Ava pushed past him and ran inside. The house was dark, illuminated only by the glow coming from the streetlight outside. She darted upstairs and stopped short at the top of the stairs.
"Oh my god, Nick," he saw her kneel beside Stan, her voice frantic. As he followed her up the stairs, he could see a body lying on the floor.
"I think he fell. Grandpa?" she called out, reaching to check his pulse, tears already streaming down her face.
Nick flipped on the hallway light, and it became clear that Stan didn't just fall. Someone bashed the back of his head with something heavy. There was blood pooling around him, and there was a trail of debris all over the floor. A quick glance down the hallway told him that someone had ransacked Ava's office as well. It looked like Stan most likely interrupted an intruder.
He kneeled down beside her, took out his phone and dialled 911.
***
She felt numb. The hours blended together like a horrific nightmare. Ava barely remembered the paramedics arriving at the house, taking her grandfather away. The cops questioned where she was, where Nick was, trying to establish a timeline. All she could think of was Stan lying on the ground, bleeding all over the floor. It was like a bad dream she desperately wanted to wake up from.
Nick sat down beside her and handed her a cup of coffee. She took it, staring absently into space. It didn't take long for the coffee cup to heat up. She felt the warmth even though her hands felt like blocks of ice. She looked down at it as if surprised to see it there, then took a careful sip and set it down again. It tasted like nothing.
"He's still in surgery," Ava told him, her eyes puffy and red from crying.
"He'll be okay," he said. "It takes time."
"I should have stayed home," she said. "I should've been home instead of getting drunk at the club."
Nick let her lean against him and put his arm around her. "You can't think that, Ava. It's not your fault."
"It sure feels like it."
"World is full of what-ifs, and you can't blame yourself. Look," he told her. "If you were home, you could have been hurt too. You could be the one lying in surgery right now."
"You don't know that."
"Neither do you," he pointed out. "Whoever did this would have found a way in whether you were there or not."
Ava closed her eyes and absently rubbed her face. She knew he was right, but the guilt was still there. She reached for the coffee cup, took another sip then set it down again. She was so cold even with the sweatshirt Nick gave her to put over her skimpy top.
"How much do you want to bet that this is related to Sharon's case?" she asked, rubbing her hands together. "The bomb, the dark sedan, the pickup truck. It all started after we found her box."
"You think this is another message to warn you off?" he asked.
"They were looking for something," she said. "We're making them nervous."
"We have to assume that they think we have what she hid," he pointed out. "Whatever it is they think we have must be the key to what happened."
"They must have thought we hid it inside," she said. "They don't know that we gave it to Burnett."
"Maybe they think Mitchell gave us something, and they want it back."
"Yeah, that could be it too," she said thoughtfully.
"You did make copies of everything, right?"
"Of course. I digitized everything and uploaded it to the cloud," Ava said, feeling some of the control coming back. "I also have a backup USB stick hidden in the house."
"We also have the pictures from the film," Nick pointed out. "They're at my house."
The sliding door interrupted what she was going to say next. They both looked up, expecting a doctor with an update on Stan's condition. Instead, Odessa rushed inside with Steve at her heels. They were both dressed in sweats and looked like they just got out of bed. Odessa went straight to Ava and wrapped her in a big hug.
"Oh, Ava, I'm so sorry about your grandfather," she said. "We came as soon as we heard. Nick texted to tell us."
"Thank you," Ava said as she hugged her back and realized that she meant it. "Thank you for coming."
Odessa pulled back and looked at her closely. "Did you get any sleep? You must be exhausted."
"Not really," Ava admitted. She knew she was starting to crash, but the worry kept her up. "I couldn't sleep."
"We came here straight from the house," Nick told them. "They took our statements, and we did a quick walk through the house. Then they roped it off with police tape."
"I know," Steve said. "We drove by on our way here. Have you had any news yet?"
As if on cue, the door slid open again. They all stood up, waiting for news. A woman in green scrubs holding a clipboard came out to greet them.
"I'm Dr. Hansley," she said, scanning their faces. "Are you Stan Novak's family?"
"He's my grandfather?" Ava told her as she stepped forward.
The doctor checked something on the clipboard, "You must be Ava."
"I am. How is he?"
"Your grandfather sustained traumatic brain injuries," Dr. Hansley explained. "There is significant swelling, and it's putting pressure on his brain. The pressure reduces blood flow and oxygen supply. We had to put him in a medically-induced coma to help decrease the swelling and to protect the brain from further damage."
"Is he going to be okay?" Ava asked. "A coma sounds bad."
"Not necessarily," the doctor assured her. "A medically-induced coma gives the brain time to rest and heal."
"Can I see him?" Ava asked.
"He's not responsive right now," Dr. Hansley said. "But I can let you see him for a few minutes. I'm sorry," she looked at the rest of them. "Family only at this time."
Ava followed her to where Stan lay in bed, hooked up to monitors and breathing tubes. He seemed so pale and frail. It was one thing to go after her, but to hurt an old man who never did anyone any harm was another. She would find who did this and see them punished. That was something she could do for him.
***
Tyler reached out to the locals regardin
g Frank Mitchell's death. A heart attack in a man his age combined with heavy drinking and many health issues wasn't unusual. Without concrete evidence, there wasn't much they could do. An autopsy was unlikely since the death wasn't considered suspicious unless the family requested one.
There wasn't much evidence left on Nick's car, making it challenging to identify the truck that tried to run them off the road. There were no cameras at the parking lot behind the restaurant, so that was another dead end.
Tyler was tired and cranky when he logged on to his computer. He checked for updates on the items from Sharon's box. The answer was always the same. The forensic team was dealing with many cases, and his evidence was in line. He hated the seemingly endless layers of bureaucracy.
Tyler scrolled through emails when an alert caught his eye. There was a break-in at Stan Novak's house. Interesting. He read over the report and felt alarm bells going off in his head like fireworks.
"Shit," he muttered to himself. After the recent incidents, he set up an alert on the system to notify him if anything popped on the address or related to Ava, Stan or Nick's names. Now it did. He checked the time and decided to head over there.
On the way, he tried calling Ava, but the call went straight to voicemail. The house was still taped off, so he tried Nick next door. He answered almost immediately. His hair was sticking out in all directions, and the sleepy look in his eyes told Tyler he likely woke him up.
"Detective Burnett," Nick said as he scratched his chin. "Come in."
Tyler followed him inside. Taking one look at the pillow and blanket on the couch as they passed the living room into the kitchen. The Laskaris house was almost a mirror image of Stan's with a few more recent updates. Judging by the décor and the family photos, this was very much Nick's parents' house. Tyler wondered how they felt about their adult son moving in and messing with their routine. Then again, they have been away for some time, so maybe that wasn't an issue for them.
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