Chapter 4 - Nina Cole
I did not go alone.
That was the first decision Daniel would never have expected me to make.
For years, he had trained me to hide things from the people who might protect me.
That night, I showed Detective Reed every message.
He read them twice.
“Pier 9 is exposed.”
“I know.”
“It is also outside our immediate surveillance area.”
“I know.”
“Which means if Nina Cole actually sent this, she either chose badly or chose it because she is afraid of being seen somewhere more public.”
Rachel crossed her arms.
“Or Daniel sent it.”
Reed nodded.
“Exactly.”
I stared at the evidence bag containing the brass key.
“What does M-417 mean?”
“We're checking storage facilities, safety-deposit systems, marina slips, locker services, parking spaces, and property records.”
“Nothing yet?”
“Nothing conclusive.”
My phone buzzed.
Another message from Nina.
COME OR FORGET I CONTACTED YOU.
Rachel leaned toward the screen.
“She sounds terrified.”
Reed looked at me.
“You're not going alone.”
“I know.”
His eyebrows lifted slightly.
“That was easier than expected.”
“I’m learning.”
At eleven-forty, Reed drove an unmarked sedan toward the harbor.
I sat in the passenger seat wearing a coat over the blouse containing no transmitter this time.
Two plainclothes officers followed several blocks behind us.
Rachel remained at Lena’s secured apartment.
She hated the arrangement.
I hated it too.
But someone had already entered her home once.
The harbor was nearly empty.
Wind rolled off the dark water.
Shipping lights blinked beyond the pier.
Reed parked three blocks away.
“You stay behind me.”
“I understand.”
“If I tell you to move, move.”
“I understand.”
“If we find Nina and she wants to talk only to you, I am still staying close enough to hear.”
“Fine.”
He looked at me.
“You don't have to prove anything tonight.”
“I’m not trying to prove anything.”
“What are you trying to do?”
I stared toward Pier 9.
“Find out why someone deposited six hundred thousand dollars in my name.”
We walked.
Every sound felt too loud.
A loose sign rattled.
Water slapped against pylons.
Somewhere beyond a warehouse, a truck engine started.
At the far end of the pier stood a woman in a red scarf.
She kept looking behind her.
“Nina?”
She spun around.
I recognized her from Mercer House holiday parties.
She had lost weight.
Her hair was shorter.
Her eyes moved constantly.
“You brought police.”
Her voice was almost angry.
“Yes.”
“I told you to come alone.”
“I spent five years following instructions from frightened people.”
She stared at me.
“I’m done.”
For one second, something like approval appeared in her expression.
Then she looked at Reed.
“You're Marcus Reed.”
“Yes.”
“Daniel knows you.”
“So I'm told.”
“He keeps files on people.”
Reed’s expression changed.
“What kind of files?”
Nina glanced behind us.
“Not here.”
She began walking.
We followed.
She led us toward an old fish-processing building that had been converted into rental workspaces.
She unlocked a side door.
Inside was a narrow hallway lit by flickering fluorescent tubes.
I stopped.
“No.”
Nina turned.
“What?”
“We're not going deeper into an unfamiliar building.”
Reed looked at me.
I shrugged.
“Lena taught me.”
Nina almost smiled.
Then she reached into her coat.
Reed’s hand moved beneath his jacket.
Nina froze.
“Relax.”
She slowly withdrew a flash drive.
“I copied this before I left Mercer House.”
“What is it?”
“The real bookkeeping.”
My heart pounded.
Nina handed it to Reed instead of me.
“The books Daniel showed the board were clean.”
She swallowed.
“The books he kept separately were not.”
“How much?”
Reed asked.
Nina laughed without humor.
“You think six hundred thousand is a lot?”
My stomach tightened.
“How much?”
“Over six years?”
She looked at me.
“At least three point four million.”
I stared at her.
“Stolen from the charity?”
“Moved through it.”
“What does that mean?”
“Some was donor money.”
“Some was grant money.”
“Some came from fake vendors.”
“Some came from emergency housing reimbursements for women who never received housing.”
My throat tightened.
“Where did it go?”
“Shell companies.”
“Whose?”
“Different people.”
“Daniel?”
“Sometimes.”
She looked at me.
“Sometimes you.”
I felt sick.
“I had nothing to do with it.”
“I know.”
“Then why use my name?”
“Because he needed someone who could survive a surface-level audit.”
I did not understand.
Nina continued.
“You were his wife.”
“You had no criminal history.”
“You had stable credit.”
“You owned the house before you married him.”
“You didn't work at Mercer House.”
“So if money appeared in your accounts?”
I finished the sentence.
“It looked personal.”
“Exactly.”
“Spousal transfers.”
“Household investments.”
“Reimbursements.”
“Nothing that immediately screamed nonprofit theft.”
Reed held up the flash drive.
“Why didn't you take this to police two years ago?”
Nina’s face hardened.
“I did.”
He stared at her.
“Who?”
She looked away.
“Not you.”
“Who?”
“I went to someone Daniel knew.”
Reed’s jaw tightened.
“What happened?”
“Two days later, Daniel called me into his office.”
My skin prickled.
“He knew?”
“He repeated one sentence from my police statement word for word.”
Reed became still.
“Which officer?”
“I don't know.”
“You met an officer.”
“Plainclothes.”
“Where?”
“Mercer House.”
“That narrows nothing.”
Nina shook her head.
“He said his name was Sergeant Wheeler.”
Reed exhaled.
“There is no Sergeant Wheeler in our domestic-violence unit.”
“I know that now.”
“What happened next?”
Nina looked at me.
“Daniel gave me a choice.”
“What choice?”
“Sign a statement admitting I had made bookkeeping mistakes…”
She swallowed.
“Or he would report that I stole ninety thousand dollars.”
“Did you steal it?”
“No.”
“Could he prove you did?”
“He had invoices approved with my login.”
I understood immediately.
“He framed you.”
“He built the frame before I realized there was a picture.”
The sentence chilled me.
“What did you do?”
“I signed.”
“And left.”
“Yes.”
“Why contact me now?”
Nina looked toward the door.
“Because when I saw your arrest story this morning, I knew what he was doing.”
“My arrest story?”
“His story about you.”
She corrected herself.
“The forty-thousand-dollar loan.”
“The fake account.”
“The internal investigation.”
“You think that's connected to the charity theft.”
“I know it is.”
“How?”
Nina’s hands trembled.
“Because he did something almost identical to Marisol Vega.”
Lena had mentioned that name once.
A former Mercer House client.
“What happened to her?”
Nina went pale.
“She disappeared.”
Reed stepped closer.
“Explain.”
“She worked part-time at Mercer House after completing the shelter program.”
“What did she do?”
“Client intake.”
“She found reimbursement forms under her name for apartments she had never used.”
I stared.
“What happened when she asked?”
“Daniel told everyone she had relapsed.”
“Had she?”
“No.”
“He said she was stealing.”
“She wasn't.”
“He said she was unstable.”
“She wasn't.”
I could barely breathe.
“What happened?”
“She came to me.”
Nina’s voice became quieter.
“She said she had copied something from Daniel’s office.”
“What?”
“A red ledger.”
Reed looked sharply at her.
“Paper?”
“Yes.”
“Handwritten?”
“Mostly.”
“What did it contain?”
“Names.”
“Amounts.”
“Initials.”
“Notes.”
“Blackmail.”
The hallway suddenly seemed colder.
“What kind of blackmail?”
Nina looked at me.
“Survivors.”
“Donors.”
“Board members.”
“Police.”
“Lawyers.”
“Anyone Daniel thought might someday become useful.”
Reed stared at her.
“And you saw it?”
“Once.”
“Where is it?”
“I don't know.”
“You told Claire he would destroy it tonight.”
“I assumed he would.”
“Why?”
“Because the key disappeared.”
I pulled out my phone and showed her the photograph of the brass key.
M-417.
Nina’s face drained of color.
“That.”
“What does it open?”
She looked toward the harbor.
“Not a storage unit.”
“Then what?”
“A private archive box.”
“Where?”
“I don't know anymore.”
“What do you mean?”
“Mercer House used a document-storage company.”
“What company?”
“Mariner Records.”
Reed immediately typed the name into his phone.
Nina shook her head.
“They closed last year.”
“What happened to their holdings?”
“Transferred.”
“To whom?”
“I don't know.”
Reed made a call.
I continued questioning Nina.
“What happened to Marisol?”
“She called me the night after she copied the ledger.”
“What did she say?”
“That Daniel knew.”
“How?”
“She wouldn't tell me.”
“Then?”
“She vanished.”
“Police report?”
“Daniel filed one.”
I blinked.
“He reported her missing?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because he wanted to control the story.”
Of course he did.
“What did he say?”
“That Mercer House was deeply worried about a vulnerable former client.”
Nina’s mouth twisted.
“He organized a candlelight vigil.”
I felt nauseated.
“Was she ever found?”
“No.”
Reed ended his call.
“Mariner Records’ assets were purchased by Chesapeake Archive Solutions.”
Nina nodded.
“Then that's where M-417 leads.”
Reed was already calling for a warrant inquiry when headlights flashed through the front windows.
Nina froze.
“That isn't your car?”
Reed moved toward the wall.
“No.”
A black SUV stopped outside.
Its engine remained running.
Nina began backing away.
“No.”
“Nina.”
“No.”
She turned toward the rear door.
Reed caught her arm.
“Do not run outside.”
“You don't understand.”
“Then explain.”
“That car was outside my apartment last night.”
My stomach dropped.
Footsteps sounded outside the building.
Reed drew his weapon.
“Claire, behind me.”
I moved.
The doorknob turned.
Reed aimed.
The door opened.
A man stepped inside.
He froze when he saw the gun.
“Jesus.”
“Hands.”
He raised them.
“I’m just delivering something.”
“What?”
“A package.”
“For who?”
The man looked at a clipboard.
“Nina Cole.”
Nina stopped breathing.
Reed approached him cautiously.
“Who sent it?”
“I don't know.”
He placed a small cardboard box on the floor.
“No return address.”
“Who paid?”
“Online order.”
Reed searched him.
Nothing.
The driver was confused, frightened, and apparently legitimate.
After officers arrived and cleared the package, Reed opened it.
Inside was a red scarf.
Exactly like the one Nina was wearing.
Beneath it sat a photograph.
Nina picked it up.
Her knees nearly buckled.
The photograph showed Nina standing on Pier 9 ten minutes earlier.
Taken from across the water.
I looked toward the dark windows.
Someone had been watching us.
On the back of the photograph, one sentence had been written in black marker.
YOU SHOULD HAVE STAYED GONE.
Nina began crying.
Reed took the photograph.
“We need to move.”
His radio crackled.
An officer’s voice came through.
“Detective, we have a situation.”
“What?”
“Mercer’s attorney just filed an emergency complaint.”
“Against whom?”
A pause followed.
“Against you.”
Reed’s face hardened.
“For what?”
The officer answered.
“Coercion, evidence tampering, and an undisclosed personal relationship with Claire Mercer.”
I stared at Reed.
“What personal relationship?”
He did not answer.
The radio continued.
“They attached photographs.”
Reed’s eyes met mine.
“What photographs?”
“Pictures of you and Mrs. Mercer entering a hotel together this morning.”
I felt the floor shift beneath me.
Lena’s advocacy center operated from a converted hotel.
Daniel knew that.
But the photographs were framed tightly enough to hide the sign.
Reed lowered the radio.
Nina whispered.
“He's doing it again.”
“What?”
She looked at me.
May you like
“Building the frame before anybody sees the picture.”
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