Chapter 11 - David Pierce
David’s message contained only an address and a time.
11:00 a.m.
An abandoned private airfield thirty miles outside Chicago.
Naomi immediately said no.
Elias said something less polite.
I went anyway.
With security.
With investigators.
With enough people nearby to make stupidity survivable.
David was waiting inside an old hangar.
He looked nothing like the polished CFO who used to explain quarterly numbers over expensive dinners.
His suit was wrinkled.
His face unshaven.
He held a black backpack.
Naomi approached first.
“Put the bag down.”
He did.
“Is the drive inside?”
“Yes.”
“Why did you delete the servers?”
“To make Victoria think I was helping her.”
I stared at him.
“You’ve been working with Victoria?”
“For nine years.”
Nine.
“Doing what?”
“Hiding money.”
He said it without decoration.
My stomach tightened.
“How much?”
“I stopped counting after eighty million.”
Naomi’s eyes sharpened.
“Why come forward?”
David laughed bitterly.
“Because she was going to blame everything on me.”
“Were you innocent?”
“No.”
That answer surprised me.
“I signed things I knew were false.”
“Why?”
“Money.”
At least he did not pretend.
“Then fear.”
He nodded toward the backpack.
“The drive contains duplicate ledgers.”
“Payments to Victoria?”
“And Grant.”
My heart sank.
David saw it.
“Your husband knew about some of it.”
“Some?”
“He thought he was cleaning up old family problems.”
“How much did he know?”
“Enough to be guilty.”
I looked away.
I had expected that.
Still hurt.
“What didn’t he know?”
David hesitated.
“The medical plan.”
My eyes snapped back.
“He didn’t know?”
“He knew Victoria wanted you declared impaired.”
“That sounds like knowing.”
“He thought they were going to use your gala incident.”
“And Dr. Lyle?”
“He knew Lyle would cooperate.”
“That’s enough.”
“Yes.”
David did not defend him.
“But your husband did not know Victoria was planning to cause another medical emergency.”
The hangar seemed to grow colder.
“What are you saying?”
David looked at Naomi.
Then at me.
“The night you came home from surgery, Victoria told Grant you had taken too much medication.”
“She was lying.”
“Yes.”
“She flushed the pills.”
“She needed them gone.”
Why?
The answer was already forming.
“She wanted it to look like I had taken them.”
David nodded.
Naomi became very still.
“If Claire had died?”
David swallowed.
“Victoria had a toxicology narrative ready.”
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
I heard wind moving against the metal hangar walls.
Grant had abandoned me bleeding because he believed I had abused the medication.
Or because he wanted to believe it.
Victoria had disposed of the pills to support that story.
If Maria had not found me—
I stopped the thought.
Naomi took the drive.
“What else?”
David looked terrified.
“She knows I copied everything.”
“Where will she go?”
“I don’t know.”
“Does she have accounts overseas?”
“Yes.”
“Properties?”
“Yes.”
“Passports?”
“Probably.”
Naomi immediately contacted authorities.
By afternoon, a court issued orders restricting transfers of several Mercer family assets.
Dr. Lyle was subpoenaed.
David entered negotiations with prosecutors.
And Grant appeared at my apartment.
This time, he was alone.
No lawyers.
No flowers.
No performance.
He stood in front of me looking destroyed.
“Did you know?” I asked.
“About what?”
“Your mother’s plan with the medication.”
His confusion looked real.
Then horror replaced it.
“What plan?”
I told him.
Grant sat down.
He covered his mouth.
For almost a minute, he said nothing.
Then he whispered:
“I left you there.”
“Yes.”
“I thought…”
“You thought what she wanted you to think.”
His eyes filled.
I had never seen Grant cry.
Not at his father’s funeral anniversary.
Not when we lost our first pregnancy.
Not once.
Now tears slid down his face.
“Claire.”
I did not comfort him.
He looked at me.
“I’ll testify.”
“Against her?”
“Yes.”
“You understand what that means.”
“Yes.”
He nodded slowly.
“I already lost you.”
His voice cracked.
“I’m not losing what’s left of myself too.”
Then his phone rang.
He answered.
His face changed instantly.
“What?”
He stood.
“When?”
The call ended.
“What happened?” I asked.
May you like
Grant looked at me.
“My mother’s gone.”
