Chapter 15 - Rebecca Sloan
Lena stopped speaking when she heard Rebecca’s name.
Not for a minute.
Not for five.
For nearly half an hour.
She sat in the conference room with both hands wrapped around a cold cup of coffee.
Finally, I sat beside her.
“You knew her.”
“Yes.”
“How well?”
“She trained me.”
Lena looked toward the window.
“She was why I became an advocate.”
“What happened?”
“Rebecca drove off a rural road during a storm.”
“Was she drinking?”
“No.”
“Speeding?”
“Police said weather.”
“Did you believe it?”
“Yes.”
She closed her eyes.
“I needed to.”
“Why?”
“Because a week before she died, Rebecca told me she was scared of Daniel.”
The room went silent.
“You never reported that?”
“I didn't know what she meant.”
Lena’s voice cracked.
“She said Mercer House wasn't what it looked like.”
“What exactly?”
“That Daniel was using client information for something.”
“Did she say what?”
“No.”
“She told me to keep copies of every case note I personally wrote.”
“Why?”
“She wouldn't explain.”
“What happened after she died?”
“Daniel called an all-staff meeting.”
Lena stared at her coffee.
“He cried.”
Of course he did.
“He created a scholarship in her name.”
My stomach twisted.
“He delivered the eulogy.”
Lena began crying.
“He stood beside her parents and said she was the moral center of Mercer House.”
Rachel looked furious.
Park asked quietly.
“What kind of car did Rebecca drive?”
“Blue Honda.”
“Do you remember problems with it?”
“No.”
“Anyone at Mercer House work on it?”
Lena frowned.
“Grant.”
Every person in the room froze.
“Grant Ellis?”
“Yes.”
“He used to fix staff cars in the parking lot.”
Park stood.
Within hours, investigators questioned Grant again.
At first, he denied knowing anything.
Then they showed him Daniel’s plea offer.
Grant’s lawyer requested a break.
When the interview resumed, Grant changed his story.
“Daniel told me Rebecca’s brake warning light was malfunctioning.”
“What did you do?”
“I looked at it.”
“Did you tamper with her brakes?”
“No.”
“Did Daniel?”
“I don't know.”
“Did you see him near the car?”
Grant looked down.
“Once.”
“When?”
“The night before she died.”
“What was he doing?”
“I don't know.”
“Grant.”
“He was crouched near the front wheel.”
“Why didn't you tell police?”
“Because nobody asked.”
Park’s expression hardened.
“A woman died.”
“I was twenty-six.”
“You were an adult.”
Grant said nothing.
Investigators reopened Rebecca’s death.
The car had been destroyed years ago.
Physical evidence was gone.
But photographs remained.
So did the crash report.
An automotive expert examined high-resolution images.
One brake line appeared unusually damaged.
Not definitive.
Not enough for homicide charges.
But suspicious.
Then Rebecca’s sister produced something nobody knew existed.
A voicemail.
Rebecca had left it the morning she died.
“Sarah, if Daniel asks, I never gave you anything.”
Her voice sounded frightened.
“I’ll explain tomorrow.”
There was no tomorrow.
Sarah had assumed Rebecca referred to workplace files.
She never found anything.
Police searched old family storage.
Boxes.
Books.
Photo albums.
Then Sarah remembered Rebecca’s habit of hiding important papers inside hardcover books.
They searched again.
Inside an old copy of Jane Eyre was an envelope.
The envelope contained photocopies of early Mercer House financial statements.
And one handwritten page.
IF ANYTHING HAPPENS TO ME, LOOK AT D.M.
Below it were three names.
Daniel Mercer.
Adrian Cole.
Officer Wayne Carver.
Detective Park stared at the third name.
“Wayne Carver.”
“Who is he?”
Rachel asked.
Park’s expression became grim.
“Deputy commissioner.”
The room became silent.
The senior police name from the red ledger.
The person who might have protected Daniel.
Federal investigators took over that part immediately.
Carver was placed on administrative leave.
Search warrants followed.
His home.
Office.
Financial accounts.
A safe-deposit box contained twenty-two thousand dollars in cash.
Payment records connected him to a Daniel-linked shell company.
Carver claimed the money was consulting income.
He had never disclosed consulting work.
Then investigators found an old calendar.
On the date Nina first approached police, Carver had written:
MERCER — ACCOUNTANT ISSUE.
On the date Marisol reported concerns:
MERCER — CLIENT PROBLEM.
On the date Rebecca died:
D.M. — RESOLVED.
I felt physically sick.
Daniel had not merely built relationships with police.
He had purchased protection.
Marcus Reed’s original caution made sense.
The institution contained people who admired Daniel.
At least one may have actively protected him.
Carver was arrested on corruption and obstruction allegations.
Daniel’s world began collapsing publicly.
News stations stopped calling the case a domestic dispute.
They called it the Mercer House Scandal.
Former donors demanded audits.
City contracts were frozen.
Federal agencies opened grant-fraud investigations.
And then Marisol came home.
She entered Baltimore under protection.
Her son was now twelve.
He had grown up believing his mother died.
Their reunion happened privately.
Nobody recorded it.
Nobody photographed it.
Marisol later told me he stared at her for almost a minute before asking one question.
“Why didn't you come back?”
She had no answer that could give him those years.
Daniel had stolen things courts could never sentence in months or dollars.
Marisol still agreed to testify.
Emily did too.
Nina accepted a cooperation agreement that required her to admit every false invoice she had processed.
She hated it.
“It makes me look guilty.”
I understood.
“Were you?”
She stared at me.
“I knew some things were wrong.”
“Then say that.”
“What if people hate me?”
“They might.”
“What if the jury doesn't believe me?”
“They might not.”
She looked shocked by my answer.
I continued.
“Daniel survived because he made us think we had to be perfect victims.”
Nina became quiet.
“We don't.”
I looked at her.
“We just have to tell the truth.”
Trial preparation began.
Katherine Voss withdrew as Daniel’s attorney.
Everyone assumed she feared the evidence.
The truth was stranger.
Federal investigators discovered Katherine had received payments from one of Daniel’s shell companies.
She claimed legitimate legal fees.
Some payments occurred before any documented legal services.
She became a potential witness.
Conflict rules forced her withdrawal.
Daniel hired another lawyer.
Thomas Grail.
Older.
Colder.
Less theatrical.
His first strategy was simple.
Attack no one publicly.
Save everything for court.
That frightened me more.
Three weeks before trial, prosecutors received an anonymous package.
Inside was a flash drive.
The drive contained photographs of me entering Lena’s office.
Rachel meeting Nina.
Reed speaking with Park.
Emily arriving in Baltimore.
Marisol entering federal protection.
Someone had continued watching us even after Daniel was detained.
At the end of the drive was a typed message.
YOU THINK DANIEL WORKED ALONE.
Park read it twice.
Rachel whispered.
“Did he?”
Nobody answered.
Then analysts examined the photographs.
One had been taken yesterday.
Daniel was in custody.
Adrian was in custody.
Grant was in custody.
Carver was in custody.
Whoever had taken the picture was still free.
May you like
And they knew exactly where I was.
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