Chapter 6 - Charles Mercer

Mercer refused to speak at the station.

Not until Victor entered the interview room.

Then he laughed.

“You look like your father.”

Victor sat across from him.

“You worked for him too.”

“Twenty-two years.”

“Then you betrayed him.”

Mercer leaned back.

“I survived him.”

Victor placed Amelia’s notebook on the table.

“Two hundred fifty thousand dollars.”

Mercer’s smile vanished.

“December fourteenth.”

“What did Serena pay you to do?”

Silence.

Victor leaned forward.

“My wife died two days later.”

Mercer looked at the camera in the corner.

“I want immunity.”

Detective Monroe spoke from behind the glass.

“No promises.”

Victor waited.

Mercer finally cracked.

“I disabled the garage cameras.”

Victor’s jaw tightened.

“Why?”

“Serena said she was meeting someone.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know.”

“You expect me to believe that?”

Mercer shrugged.

“She paid cash.”

“What else?”

Mercer looked uncomfortable.

“She asked for Amelia’s vehicle service records.”

Victor stood so quickly the chair scraped backward.

“You knew.”

“No.”

“You knew something was going to happen.”

“I knew enough not to ask.”

Victor wanted to hit him.

Instead, he sat again.

“Who cut the brake line?”

Mercer shook his head.

“Not me.”

“Who?”

“I never saw them.”

“But after the crash, Serena called me.”

“What did she say?”

Mercer stared at the table.

“She told me to erase the archived security backup.”

Victor felt sick.

“Did you?”

“Yes.”

“Everything?”

Mercer looked up.

“No.”

Victor froze.

“I kept one copy.”

“Why?”

“Insurance.”

“Where is it?”

Mercer smiled faintly.

“I knew someday somebody would need it.”

Monroe entered the room.

“Where?”

Mercer looked at her.

“I hid it somewhere Serena could never get without Victor.”

“Where?”

“The Hale family mausoleum.”

Victor’s blood went cold.

His father and grandparents were buried there.

Amelia too.

Mercer gave them instructions.

A sealed compartment behind Victor Hale Sr.’s plaque.

Before they left, Mercer called after Victor.

“There’s something else.”

Victor turned.

“Serena didn’t start this.”

“What?”

“She inherited it.”

“From whom?”

Mercer’s face changed.

“Ask your father why he created the trust in the first place.”

Victor stared at him.

“My father died six years ago.”

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Mercer nodded.

“Exactly.”