Chapter 6
Victor’s driver was named Owen Bell.
He had worked for Mercer Holdings for seventeen years.
He knew where bodies were not buried because Victor preferred paperwork to dirt.
Shell accounts.
Burner phones.
Offshore wires.
Medical payments.
Bribed clerks.
Old threats.
New threats.
He did not confess because he was good.
He confessed because Frank found him trying to leave the country with cash taped under the lining of two suitcases.
Detective Collins brought me the summary the next morning.
I was at Mom’s hospital bedside with an ice pack on my jaw and stitches above my eyebrow.
Mom looked at my face and said, “I told you not to be stupid.”
“I came back.”
“That was the minimum.”
Then she kissed my hand because anger and love often shared the same chair with her.
Collins stood near the foot of the bed.
“Owen Bell gave us enough to charge Victor Mercer with conspiracy and financial crimes immediately. The homicide angle on your father is still difficult.”
Mom’s face tightened.
“But?”
“But he provided emails showing Victor instructed Claire to maintain access to your medication and travel schedule.”
I closed my eyes.
Medication.
My occasional sleeping pills for travel.
My protein drinks before early flights.
My coffee.
Every ordinary thing could have become a weapon.
Collins continued.
“Claire is trying to blame Ethan. Ethan is trying to blame Claire. Victor is blaming both.”
Mom gave a bitter laugh.
“Thieves dividing the knife.”
I looked at Collins.
“What about the company?”
“That is where this gets complicated.”
Of course it did.
My attorney, Daniel Price, arrived twenty minutes later with a folder and the expression of a man preparing to ruin my day politely.
“Arthur,” he said, “Ethan’s attorney filed an emergency civil claim.”
Mom sat up straighter.
“For what?”
“Trust beneficiary status, wrongful exclusion, and temporary freeze of Whitman Industries voting shares.”
I stared at him.
“He tried to kill me last night.”
Daniel nodded.
“Yes. But civil filings can be shameless.”
Mom whispered, “Victor.”
Daniel nodded again.
“Mercer’s lawyers drafted it before the warehouse meeting. They planned to file if negotiations failed.”
I laughed once.
It hurt my jaw.
“So murder and paperwork were both ready.”
“Apparently.”
Mom reached for the folder.
Daniel handed it over.
She read faster than any injured seventy-one-year-old should.
Then her face went pale.
“Arthur.”
“What?”
“They’re using Elise.”
Ethan’s biological mother.
The woman Mom had known.
The woman who died after giving birth.
May you like
Daniel explained.
“The petition claims Elise Mercer had a financial interest in early Whitman
