Chapter 17 - APRIL SEVENTEENTH
Ethan stared at Sophia.
Richard stood behind him.
A detective immediately stepped closer.
Sophia looked at the table.
Ethan spoke slowly.
“Who?”
Sophia’s lips trembled.
“Not the way you think.”
“You just said you killed someone.”
“I thought I did.”
Richard frowned.
“Who?”
Sophia closed her eyes.
“Thomas.”
Everyone froze.
Thomas Reed was alive.
Richard stared.
“Explain.”
Sophia began.
Four weeks after Hope’s birth, Mason ordered her to meet him at an abandoned warehouse outside Baltimore.
Sophia believed Mason was bringing Hope.
Instead Thomas was there.
Alive.
Bound to a chair.
Mason told Sophia Thomas had helped destroy Victor.
Sophia was twenty-nine.
Grieving.
Furious.
Manipulated.
Mason placed a gun in her hand.
Ethan’s face changed.
Sophia continued.
“He told me Thomas had forged my father’s signature.”
Thomas had tried to explain.
Sophia did not believe him.
Mason told her to choose.
Help Thomas escape.
Or get information about Hope.
Ethan whispered.
“What did you do?”
Sophia began crying.
“I chose Hope.”
Richard’s expression hardened.
“What happened to Thomas?”
“Mason forced him into a car.”
“They drove toward the river.”
“Mason told me later Thomas was dead.”
“You didn’t kill him.”
Sophia shook her head.
“No.”
“Then why say you did?”
Sophia looked destroyed.
“Because I gave Mason the keys.”
“To what?”
“The warehouse vehicle.”
Richard understood.
“You helped move Thomas.”
“Yes.”
“And believed Mason murdered him.”
“Yes.”
Ethan looked away.
Sophia continued.
“Every year after that, Mason reminded me.”
“He told me if I ever turned against him, I would be charged as an accomplice.”
Richard stared.
“So that was how he controlled you.”
“Partly.”
The detective asked.
“Who gave Hope the note?”
Sophia looked confused.
“I don’t know.”
Richard thought.
Hope described a man from the hotel.
Not Mason.
Not Martin.
Could be Thomas.
But Hope had met Thomas at Lake Vernon.
She would recognize him.
Richard asked.
“Did Hope say the man was old?”
Ethan nodded.
“Gray-haired.”
Richard remembered someone else.
Dr. Price.
But Price had white hair.
Benjamin?
Gray hair.
Yet why would Benjamin give Hope a threatening note?
Then Thomas entered the room.
He had overheard.
“April seventeenth.”
Sophia looked at him.
Her face collapsed.
Thomas stared.
“You.”
She covered her mouth.
“I thought you were dead.”
“I know.”
“I’m sorry.”
Thomas said nothing.
Richard asked.
“Who gave Hope the note?”
Thomas frowned.
“I didn’t.”
“Did you know someone else was at that warehouse?”
Thomas hesitated.
“Yes.”
“Who?”
“A man Mason called Daniel.”
Natalie’s son was named Daniel.
Richard immediately clarified.
“Not my grandson.”
“No.”
“This Daniel would be around sixty now.”
“Surname?”
“I never heard it.”
Sophia looked up suddenly.
“I did.”
Everyone turned.
“Daniel Mercer.”
Richard frowned.
The name meant nothing.
Thomas went pale.
“You know him?”
“No.”
Thomas looked toward Richard.
“But Margaret did.”
Richard felt dread.
“How?”
Thomas took a breath.
“Daniel Mercer was the private investigator Margaret hired.”
“To watch Mason?”
“Yes.”
“Did he disappear too?”
Thomas nodded.
“Soon after I did.”
Ethan looked toward the address Hope had been given.
The location belonged to an abandoned newspaper office.
Police went first.
They found no one.
But inside the basement was a room.
Walls covered in photographs.
Mason.
Martin.
Victor.
Richard.
Margaret.
Thomas.
Sophia.
Ethan.
Hope.
One photograph showed Daniel Mercer.
He was alive.
The picture had been taken three weeks earlier.
Richard stared.
Another ghost.
On the table was a tape recorder.
One cassette waited inside.
A handwritten label read:
FOR RICHARD WHITMORE.
Richard pressed PLAY.
A man spoke.
“My name is Daniel Mercer.”
“If Richard is hearing this, Mason has probably activated Margaret’s trust.”
Richard looked toward Ethan.
Mercer continued.
“I worked for Margaret from 2001 until her death.”
“I was the person she used when she could no longer trust the police.”
Richard swallowed.
His wife had lived an entire secret life beside him.
Mercer continued.
“Margaret knew Martin was stealing.”
“She knew Mason controlled Victor.”
“She knew Thomas was in danger.”
“But there was one thing Margaret did not know.”
A pause.
“Mason knew she knew.”
Richard’s face tightened.
Mercer continued.
“Margaret’s illness was real.”
“But her final decline was not natural.”
Nobody moved.
Richard felt his blood turn cold.
The room became silent except for the tape.
“Mason had access to her medication.”
Richard whispered.
“No.”
Mercer continued.
“I could never prove he altered it.”
“But I know someone helped him enter the house.”
Richard could barely breathe.
“Margaret suspected the same person.”
A pause.
“She wrote the name down.”
Richard leaned closer.
“The paper is inside the one place Martin has never been able to open.”
“The original Whitmore family Bible.”
The tape ended.
Richard stood.
The Bible remained inside the mansion library.
Police escorted them home.
Richard went directly to the shelf.
The old leather Bible had belonged to his father.
He opened it.
Nothing.
Then Ethan noticed the back cover was unusually thick.
Richard cut the lining.
A folded page fell out.
Margaret’s handwriting.
One sentence.
IF MY MEDICATION CHANGES AGAIN, ASK BENJAMIN WHY HE KEEPS VISITING WHEN RICHARD IS AWAY.
Richard stared.
Benjamin Cole.
Again.
The family attorney.
Ethan whispered.
“No.”
Richard called Benjamin.
No answer.
They went to his office.
Empty.
His car was gone.
His assistant said Benjamin had left twenty minutes earlier carrying a suitcase.
Richard felt sick.
Federal agents issued an alert.
Then Ethan discovered something else in the Bible.
A second note.
Newer handwriting.
Not Margaret’s.
Daniel Mercer’s.
BENJAMIN IS NOT RUNNING FROM YOU.
HE IS RUNNING FROM MASON.
Richard frowned.
Then his phone rang.
Benjamin.
Richard answered.
“Where are you?”
Benjamin sounded terrified.
“Richard.”
“Did you alter Margaret’s medication?”
“No!”
“Did you let Mason into the house?”
“No.”
“Margaret wrote your name.”
“I know.”
Richard froze.
“How?”
“Because I found that note eleven years ago.”
Richard’s blood ran cold.
“You opened the Bible?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because Margaret was wrong about me.”
“Then who was she talking about?”
Benjamin began crying.
“She saw me visiting.”
“But I wasn’t visiting her.”
Richard frowned.
“Who?”
Benjamin whispered.
“Martin.”
Silence.
Benjamin continued.
“Martin was paying me.”
“For what?”
“To change corporate documents.”
Richard’s voice hardened.
“So you were involved.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Money.”
The simplest motive of all.
Benjamin continued.
“I helped him hide transfers.”
“I didn’t know about Mason at first.”
“When I tried to stop, Martin threatened me.”
Richard stared.
“Did you help alter Margaret’s medication?”
“No.”
“Who did?”
Benjamin hesitated.
“I know who entered her room.”
Richard’s grip tightened.
“Who?”
Before Benjamin answered, a loud crash came through the phone.
He shouted.
The line dropped.
Richard called back.
Nothing.
Federal agents traced the call.
An interstate motel.
They arrived twenty-three minutes later.
Benjamin’s room door stood open.
The room was empty.
One chair had overturned.
Blood marked the carpet.
On the bathroom mirror someone had written one sentence.
THE LAST WITNESS IS NEXT.
Richard stared.
Thomas was standing behind him.
Everyone slowly turned toward Margaret’s brother.
Thomas looked terrified.
Because after Victor, Margaret, Pierce, Martin, Benjamin, Sophia, and Daniel Mercer, only one living person knew the entire beginning.
May you like
Thomas Reed.
And Mason had just announced he was coming for him.
