We left Hale's office with copies of everything he had agreed to provide.
He would not surrender the original report yet.
He wanted protection first.
Arthur understood.
I did too.
A man who had spent twenty years keeping evidence hidden was unlikely to hand it over simply because we asked.
Still, the information was enough to change the direction of the investigation.
Robert Mercer.
Daniel's older brother.
A county administrator with access to official records.
A man who could alter an accident report.
A man connected to the family through Daniel.
And a man my father had apparently never investigated.
Chloe remained silent during the drive home.
Finally, she said, “I don't remember anyone named Robert.”
“Maybe your mother never told you.”
“She didn't.”
Arthur glanced at her through the rearview mirror.
“Do you know anything about Daniel's family?”
“No.”
“Then we start there.”
Back at the mansion, we searched my father's older business records.
The name appeared only twice.
Both references were connected to property transactions.
Neither mentioned Daniel.
That seemed deliberate.
My father had known Daniel existed.
He had known about the money.
He had even sent him payments.
But Robert Mercer was absent from every major investigation.
I found that strange.
Then Chloe found something stranger.
A photograph.
It showed my father at a business dinner.
Daniel stood several feet behind him.
And beside Daniel was Robert.
On the back, my father's handwriting read:
Mercer brothers — Daniel and Robert.
I looked at the date.
Six years before my mother died.
“Dad knew Robert existed.”
Arthur nodded.
“But maybe he didn't know he was involved.”
Chloe turned the photograph over.
“Why would Dad pay Daniel?”
We still didn't know.
I returned to the ledger.
The payments continued after Daniel disappeared.
Some had been sent directly.
Others went through intermediary companies.
Arthur studied the numbers.
“These aren't ordinary payments.”
“What are they?”
“Retainers.”
“For what?”
“I don't know.”
I called Hale.
He answered immediately.
“Did you find something?”
“Yes. My father paid Daniel Mercer for years.”
There was silence.
Then Hale said, “Your father wasn't paying Daniel.”
I frowned.
“What?”
“Not really.”
“What does that mean?”
“The account belonged to Daniel, but someone else controlled it.”
“Who?”
“I don't know.”
I looked at Arthur.
He shook his head.
“Ask him how he knows.”
I did.
Hale exhaled.
“Because I found the signature.”
“Whose?”
“Robert Mercer's.”
My stomach tightened.
Arthur stood.
“Where?”
“In a bank authorization.”
“Do you have it?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because the bank destroyed the records after the retention period expired.”
I felt frustrated.
“So we're chasing ghosts.”
“No,” Hale said.
“You have something more important.”
“What?”
“Your father's payments stopped three months after Sarah died.”
I looked at the ledger.
He was right.
September 14.
The payments ended.
Exactly.
“Why?”
Hale was silent.
“Because Harrison discovered who was receiving the money.”
The call ended.
I stared at the phone.
Arthur looked at me.
“What did he say?”
I told him.
Chloe stood by the window.
“My father was being paid by Harrison.”
“Apparently.”
“For what?”
We had no answer.
Then Helen entered.
She carried an old storage box.
“I may know.”
She placed it on the table.
“These belonged to your father before the study was renovated.”
Inside were old office calendars.
Receipts.
Business cards.
A diary.
Helen opened the diary.
“Your father wrote everything down.”
She turned to a date six months before my mother's death.
I read the entry.
Daniel demanded another payment. Refused. Threatened to tell Sarah.
The next entry was three days later.
Robert intervened.
Told Daniel to leave town.
My father's handwriting became darker.
I don't trust either brother.
I looked at Chloe.
“Your father was threatening my mother?”
“Apparently.”
She looked sick.
“I don't understand.”
“Neither do I.”
The diary continued.
Sarah knows too much.
If anything happens, protect Clara.
I stopped.
That sentence had been written four months before my mother's death.
Arthur read it.
“He was worried.”
“He knew she was in danger.”
“Yes.”
“Then why didn't he protect her?”
Arthur had no answer.
Helen looked away.
I realized then that my father's greatest regret may not have been losing me.
It may have been losing my mother while knowing something was wrong.
The diary contained one final entry dated September 13.
I know who has been moving the money.
Robert.
Not Daniel.
Daniel is frightened.
Sarah is meeting Evelyn tonight.
I will follow.
The next page was blank.
There were no entries for September 14.
I felt my throat tighten.
“He followed them.”
Arthur nodded.
“And then?”
“We don't know.”
Chloe looked at me.
“What if Dad saw something?”
“Then why didn't he tell anyone?”
“Maybe he couldn't.”
The possibility hung between us.
My father had been investigating the same mystery for years.
Maybe he had seen something that made him afraid.
That evening, Arthur contacted the county archives.
The next morning, we received a response.
Robert Mercer had worked there for twelve years.
He had resigned shortly after my mother's death.
His employment file had been sealed following an internal investigation.
The reason was listed as financial misconduct.
My heart began beating faster.
“Where is he now?”
Arthur searched.
The address was old.
The house had been sold fifteen years ago.
But a forwarding record remained.
Oregon.
A small town outside Portland.
Chloe looked at me.
“We should go.”
Arthur shook his head.
“Not yet.”
“Why?”
“Because Hale warned us.”
“About what?”
“He said Robert knew your father was investigating.”
I felt a chill.
“And if he knows we're looking now?”
Arthur closed the folder.
“Then we shouldn't make our next move predictable.”
That night, I stayed awake in my father's study.
I read his diaries.
I read my mother's letters.
I read the evidence again and again.
Then I found something I had missed.
A line written in the margin of the September 13 entry.
If Robert is involved, the key is not the money.
The key is Sarah's appointment.
I searched my mother's medical records.
There it was.
September 14.
A private appointment.
Not at the hospital.
At a law office.
The same law office that had represented Evelyn before her marriage.
I called Arthur.
He arrived within twenty minutes.
We stared at the appointment record.
“My mother met Evelyn's attorney on the day she died.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Arthur looked at the address.
“That office still exists.”
“Then we go there.”
He shook his head.
“Tomorrow.”
I looked at him.
“Why wait?”
“Because the office may contain records.”
He paused.
“And if someone else has already realized what we're looking for, we need to know before we walk through that door.”
The next morning, Arthur called.
His voice was different.
“What happened?”
“The law firm still has the appointment records.”
“Good.”
“No.”
My stomach dropped.
“The attorney died three years ago.”
“And?”
“The firm's archives show that someone accessed the September 14 file last week.”
I went still.
“Who?”
“They don't know.”
Arthur paused.
“But the access request was made under your father's old client number.”
Click here to continue reading: PART 11: Someone Had Accessed My Mother’s File Only Days Earlier, and the Trail Led Back to the One Person Who Should Have Been Unable to Reach It
I Had Spent Eighteen Years Believing My Father Chose His New Family, Until His Funeral Forced Me Back Through the Door I Swore I Would Never Enter
Part 10 of 30
