CHAPTER 3
I didn't open the door.
The men knocked again.
“Mr. Mercer, we need to speak with you regarding a domestic disturbance.”
I held Lily against my chest.
Noah stood beside me.
Marcus was still on speakerphone.
“You didn't call them?” he asked.
“No.”
“Then don't open that door.”
One of the men outside leaned toward the camera.
“We know you're inside.”
I muted the phone.
“Can you show me your badge?”
The man lifted it toward the camera.
Too quickly.
I could barely make out the number.
“Open the door and we can discuss this.”
“Which precinct?”
A pause.
“Central.”
“What's your name?”
Another pause.
“Officer Hall.”
Marcus's voice came through after I unmuted him.
“Daniel, Central doesn't handle your district.”
I already knew.
Our neighborhood fell under North Division.
I whispered to Noah, “Take Lily upstairs.”
His expression hardened.
“No.”
“Noah.”
“I don't want to leave you.”
My chest tightened.
I crouched.
“This isn't me sending you away. This is me protecting you. Go to my bedroom, lock the door, and take my phone.”
He stared at me.
“If anyone comes upstairs, call 911 from my phone and tell them there are men impersonating police officers outside.”
That convinced him.
He took Lily's hand.
She refused to release my shirt.
“Daniel come.”
“I'll be right here.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
Her fingers slowly opened.
Noah led her upstairs.
I watched until they disappeared.
Then I returned to the camera.
The second man outside stepped forward.
“Mr. Mercer, if you don't cooperate, we'll have to enter.”
“For what crime?”
“We have reason to believe a child in the home may be in danger.”
The irony nearly made me laugh.
“Then send uniformed officers from North Division.”
The man's face changed.
Only slightly.
But enough.
He looked toward the SUV.
Someone was sitting in the back seat.
I couldn't see the face.
I didn't need to.
“Marcus,” I said quietly.
“I'm five minutes away. I've called an actual patrol unit.”
“You're coming here?”
“With another attorney from my firm and a private investigator.”
“Why do you have a private investigator at two in the morning?”
“Because Claire paid him a retainer before she died.”
That stopped me.
“What?”
“Later.”
Outside, the first man tried the door handle.
My blood went cold.
I raised my voice.
“You are being recorded. You do not have permission to enter this property.”
He removed his hand.
Thirty seconds later, red-and-blue lights appeared at the end of the street.
The reaction outside was immediate.
Both fake officers walked quickly toward their vehicle.
The black SUV pulled away before the real police cruiser even stopped.
One of the men glanced back at my camera.
Then they disappeared.
I finally breathed.
Two uniformed officers approached.
This time I verified everything through dispatch before opening the door.
Officer Elena Ramirez stepped inside first.
Her partner followed.
I told them exactly what had happened.
Not only with the men.
With Vanessa.
Noah and Lily came downstairs halfway through my statement.
When Officer Ramirez saw Noah's cheek, her expression changed.
“Who did that?”
Noah's eyes went to me.
I nodded.
“Vanessa.”
The officer crouched to his level.
“Has she hurt you before?”
Noah swallowed.
Then told her.
Everything.
The arm grabbing.
The shoving.
The threats.
The foster-care warnings.
Lily clung to my leg and whispered that Vanessa “pulled hard.”
Officer Ramirez photographed Noah's face.
Then Lily's scalp, where several small red areas were visible near her hairline.
I had missed them.
Guilt crashed over me so hard I had to grip the back of a chair.
Marcus arrived with a woman named Priya Shah, another attorney, and a private investigator named Evan Brooks.
Evan was in his fifties, quiet, observant.
He listened while the officers took statements.
Then Marcus pulled me aside.
“Claire hired Evan eight months ago.”
“Why?”
“To look into Richard Vale.”
I stared at him.
“Why would Claire investigate Vanessa's father?”
Marcus's jaw tightened.
“Because Claire believed Richard was involved in her husband's death.”
The room seemed to tilt.
Claire's husband, Michael Bennett, had died three years earlier in what police ruled a single-car accident.
Wet road.
Guardrail.
Ravine.
Case closed.
“What are you saying?”
Evan answered.
“Michael Bennett was the financial controller for Vale Development.”
I knew that.
But I had never thought much about it.
“He found irregular payments,” Evan continued. “Shell contractors. Inflated invoices. Money moving through municipal redevelopment projects.”
“Fraud?”
“At minimum.”
Marcus folded his arms.
“Michael told Claire he intended to report it.”
My mouth went dry.
“Then he died.”
Evan nodded.
“Claire didn't believe it was an accident.”
“Did she have proof?”
“She was trying to get it.”
The brass key felt like fire in my pocket.
I pulled it out.
“Locker 314.”
Evan stared.
“So she found something.”
“We don't know that.”
“No,” he said. “But Richard Vale apparently thinks she did.”
Officer Ramirez approached.
“Mr. Mercer, we have enough to request an emergency protective order against your wife regarding the children.”
“My wife won't be my wife much longer.”
Marcus gave me a look.
“We'll handle that in daylight.”
Ramirez continued.
“We also need you to understand that because you're currently a temporary guardian, child services may want to speak with everyone.”
Noah stiffened.
I noticed instantly.
“So will we,” I said. “Whatever they need.”
Ramirez looked at him.
“This doesn't mean anyone is taking you anywhere.”
Noah nodded, but I saw the fear.
I put my hand on his shoulder.
“You're staying with me.”
He whispered, “Promise?”
“Promise.”
After the officers left, Marcus told us to pack.
I frowned.
“Why?”
“Because Richard already sent men here once.”
“This is my home.”
“And it's compromised.”
I looked at Noah and Lily.
Noah was trying not to look scared.
Lily wasn't trying.
She was openly terrified.
That decided it.
We packed one bag each.
Evan arranged for us to stay in a secured apartment his firm sometimes used for witnesses.
Before leaving, I walked through my home.
Wedding photos lined the hallway.
Vanessa smiling beside me.
Vanessa at Christmas.
Vanessa holding Lily at Claire's memorial service.
Every image suddenly looked false.
I stopped at our wedding portrait.
Three years earlier, I had believed I was marrying someone strong, intelligent, complicated but loving.
Now I wondered how much of our life had been real.
Noah appeared behind me.
“You okay?”
I nearly laughed at the absurdity.
He was asking me.
“I will be.”
He stared at the photograph.
“Do you still love her?”
The question hurt because the answer wasn't simple.
“I love who I thought she was.”
“Is that the same?”
“No.”
I took the wedding photograph off the wall and placed it facedown.
“No, it isn't.”
We left just before dawn.
Evan drove.
Marcus followed.
As the city lights faded behind us, Lily fell asleep with her head in Noah's lap.
I sat beside them holding the brass key.
At 5:17 a.m., my phone received an email.
No sender name.
Only an address made of random numbers.
The subject line contained two words.
CLAIRE BENNETT.
Inside was one sentence.
If you have the key, do not open locker 314.
Below it was a photograph.
Claire leaving Union Station.
Standing twenty feet behind her was Vanessa.
May you like
The timestamp was from eleven months ago.
And Claire had never told me they had met.
