Chapter 13 - The Trade
Sarah reached home in twenty-three minutes.
Police already filled the driveway.
Claire’s car remained in the garage.
Her purse was upstairs.
Her phone sat on the kitchen counter.
There were no signs of forced entry.
Noah showed Sarah the dining-room table.
The message had been written on butcher paper.
TRANSFER THE HOUSE.
NO POLICE.
MIDNIGHT.
Sarah stared at the empty chair Julian had taken on Christmas.
Her fear hardened into anger.
Detective Lena Brooks approached.
“Mrs. Mercer, we need to know everyone who has access.”
Sarah listed names.
Julian.
Victoria.
Martin.
Raymond.
A few longtime employees.
Brooks frowned.
“Julian Mercer is currently being questioned by federal investigators.”
“When was he taken in?”
“Two hours ago.”
Sarah turned.
That eliminated the easiest answer.
“Victoria?”
“Missing.”
Sarah’s eyes narrowed.
Brooks continued.
“She left her apartment sometime last night.”
Noah suddenly called from the study.
“Grandma.”
Sarah followed him.
He was sitting at Thomas’s computer.
“What?”
“Mom’s phone synced with Dad’s old tablet.”
Sarah leaned over.
A message thread appeared.
Claire had been texting an unknown number for weeks.
The messages were strange.
Short.
Cautious.
One line repeated.
I NEED MORE TIME.
Sarah scrolled.
Then she found a photograph Claire had sent.
Thomas’s brass key.
Sarah’s stomach dropped.
Another message.
I FOUND IT.
Sarah whispered.
“Claire knew about the key.”
Noah shook his head.
“She couldn’t.”
But the timestamp was undeniable.
Three weeks earlier.
Before the office attack.
Sarah kept reading.
The final message from the unknown number had arrived that morning.
BRING THE COPY AND WE’RE DONE.
Claire replied.
I WILL NOT HELP YOU HURT MY MOTHER.
Sarah stared at the screen.
Claire hadn’t simply disappeared.
She had been investigating something.
Or hiding something.
Detective Brooks photographed the messages.
“Can you identify the number?”
“No.”
Noah enlarged the contact information.
The account had no name.
But one previous attachment remained in the thread.
A photograph.
Claire had received it months earlier.
Sarah opened it.
It showed Julian and Victoria inside a parking garage.
They were arguing beside a car.
A third person stood behind them.
Sarah enlarged the image.
Raymond Ellis.
The board chair.
The man who had warned Sarah about Julian.
The man Thomas had trusted.
The man who knew about the sealed box.
Detective Brooks looked at Sarah.
“Where is Raymond now?”
Sarah slowly picked up her phone.
“I left him at Martin’s office.”
She called Martin.
No answer.
Again.
No answer.
Then Martin finally picked up.
He was whispering.
“Sarah.”
“What’s happening?”
“You need to call the police.”
“They’re here.”
Sarah heard heavy breathing.
Then Martin said.
May you like
“Raymond has a gun.”
The line went dead.
