CHAPTER 7 THE VALE FILES
Richard did not sleep that night.
Neither did Willow.
The photograph remained on the screen between them.
Daniel Mercer.
Alive.
Standing beside Derek.
Three years earlier.
The image had been taken outside a private restaurant in Manhattan.
Derek was younger.
Confident.
Smiling.
Daniel looked older than Richard remembered, but there was no mistaking him.
The scar on his left hand was visible.
Richard stared at the photograph for a long time.
Then he said,
"Jonathan."
"I'm here."
Jonathan stood near the door.
"Find out where that photograph came from."
"I already started."
"Who sent it?"
"We're tracing it."
Richard looked at Willow.
She was staring at Derek's face.
"I don't remember that night."
Richard frowned.
"What night?"
"Three years ago."
"What happened?"
"I don't know."
Jonathan looked at her.
"Try."
Willow closed her eyes.
Three years.
She searched her memory.
Derek had been traveling frequently.
They had been arguing about money.
She had been working from home.
She remembered a dinner.
A phone call.
A strange feeling.
Then nothing.
"Wait."
Richard leaned forward.
"What?"
"I remember Derek saying he had a business meeting."
"Where?"
"Manhattan."
"Which restaurant?"
"I don't know."
Jonathan opened his laptop.
"We may be able to find it."
He typed.
Within seconds, a hotel reservation appeared.
"Three years ago, Derek stayed at the Halston Crown."
Willow frowned.
"I thought he was at a conference."
"He wasn't."
"How do you know?"
"Because the conference was in Boston."
Willow stared at him.
Derek had lied.
Again.
Jonathan continued.
"He stayed at the hotel for two nights."
"Alone?"
Jonathan hesitated.
"No."
Willow's heart sank.
"Who was with him?"
"We're still checking."
Richard looked at Jonathan.
"Get the full file."
Jonathan nodded.
He placed a thick folder on the table.
"The Vale file."
Willow stared at it.
"What's inside?"
"Everything we found."
She hesitated.
Then opened it.
The first page was a financial summary.
TOTAL PERSONAL FUNDS TRANSFERRED TO VALE-RELATED ACCOUNTS: $2,614,000.
Willow stared at the number.
She knew she had given Derek money.
But seeing it consolidated on one page made it real.
The next page listed dates.
Amounts.
Descriptions.
Business expenses.
Credit card payments.
Hotel rooms.
Luxury purchases.
Consulting fees.
Private transfers.
Willow turned page after page.
Then stopped.
A $42,000 payment.
"What's this?"
Jonathan looked.
"Jewelry."
Willow frowned.
"I never bought that."
"It was purchased with a card linked to Derek's company."
"Who received it?"
Jonathan turned the page.
"Chloe Bennett."
Willow's eyes hardened.
"His secretary."
"Yes."
The next payment.
$18,700.
Luxury hotel.
Chloe.
Another.
$9,400.
Weekend resort.
Chloe.
Another.
$31,000.
Jewelry.
Chloe.
Willow closed her eyes.
Richard watched her.
"You don't have to keep reading."
"Yes."
She opened the folder again.
"I need to know."
The next pages were worse.
Derek had used Willow's money to finance a lifestyle she had never known about.
Private dinners.
Hotels.
Clothing.
Travel.
Gifts.
But there was something more troubling.
The expenses weren't random.
They followed a pattern.
Every major withdrawal from Willow's accounts was followed within days by a payment to Derek's company.
And after that, money moved into another account.
Northbridge.
Willow looked at Jonathan.
"How much?"
"Approximately $1.4 million."
"Into Northbridge?"
"Yes."
"Over how long?"
"Fourteen months."
Richard's expression darkened.
"Why didn't the bank flag it?"
Jonathan answered,
"Because the transfers were structured below certain review thresholds."
Richard looked at him.
"Who helped him?"
"We're trying to determine that."
Willow turned another page.
A handwritten note appeared.
CONTACT: E. MERCER
She stared at it.
"What's this?"
Jonathan leaned over.
"We found it in Derek's office."
"Who wrote it?"
"We don't know."
Willow recognized the handwriting.
Not Derek's.
Not hers.
She looked at Richard.
"Dad."
"What?"
"I've seen this handwriting before."
"Where?"
She pointed to the journal.
Her mother's handwriting.
Richard looked at both pages.
His face changed.
"They're similar."
"Not similar."
Willow shook her head.
"They're identical."
Silence.
Richard picked up the journal.
He compared the writing.
Same slant.
Same pressure.
Same way of forming the letter "M."
Willow whispered,
"Mom knew Elena Mercer."
Richard sat down.
"I don't understand."
"Maybe she met her."
"Twenty years ago."
"Maybe Elena was a child."
Richard shook his head.
"Elena was already working for me."
Willow looked at the date.
Her mother's final entries were written shortly before her death.
"Maybe Mom was investigating Daniel."
Richard stared at the journal.
"Why didn't she tell me?"
Willow answered softly.
"Maybe she tried."
Richard looked at her.
"What do you mean?"
"Maybe you didn't listen."
The words hurt.
But they were true.
Richard knew it.
His wife had warned him.
She had told him something was wrong.
He had been too focused on growing the company.
Too confident in his own judgment.
He had believed betrayal was something that happened to other executives.
Not him.
Not his company.
Not his family.
Then his wife died.
And the investigation disappeared.
Now, twenty years later, the same names had returned.
Daniel Mercer.
Elena Mercer.
Northbridge.
Derek.
Willow.
Richard looked at Jonathan.
"Find Elena."
"We're close."
"How close?"
"She owns a property in Vermont."
"Address?"
Jonathan gave it to him.
Richard stood.
"We leave in an hour."
Willow looked up.
"I'm coming."
"No."
"Dad."
"You just had surgery."
"I'm not staying behind while everyone investigates my life."
"Willow—"
"You said this was my fight."
Richard stopped.
She looked directly at him.
"You said I could handle it."
He nodded.
"Then let me."
Richard sighed.
"Fine."
Jonathan looked at them.
"There is one problem."
"What?"
"The property has been empty for six months."
Richard frowned.
"Then where is she?"
"We don't know."
Willow looked down at the file.
"She called me."
"Yes."
"She knew how to reach me."
"Yes."
"Then she wants me to find her."
Richard looked at her.
"Or someone wants you to."
The distinction stayed with them.
At 2:18 a.m., Derek was still awake.
He sat alone in his apartment.
His marriage was collapsing.
His company was under investigation.
His bank accounts were restricted.
His boss wouldn't return his calls.
Chloe had stopped answering.
And now there was Daniel Mercer.
A man who was supposed to be dead.
Derek poured himself a drink.
His hand shook.
He remembered three years earlier.
The hotel room.
The briefcase.
The papers.
Daniel's voice.
You want to build your company?
Derek had nodded.
Then you need capital.
"I already have capital."
Daniel had smiled.
Not enough.
Derek remembered asking,
"Where does it come from?"
Daniel had placed a document on the table.
Your wife.
Derek had laughed.
"She won't give me that much."
Daniel smiled.
She doesn't have to know.
Derek had stared at him.
"What are you talking about?"
There are ways to move money without triggering attention.
Derek had been nervous.
"That's illegal."
Daniel's smile disappeared.
Only if you get caught.
Derek had walked away.
Or so he thought.
But the truth was uglier.
He had gone back.
He had listened.
And he had signed.
Derek opened a drawer.
Inside was an old USB drive.
He had kept it for three years.
He didn't know why.
Maybe some part of him had always known he might need it.
He plugged it into his laptop.
One folder appeared.
MERCER.
Derek clicked.
There were twelve files.
He opened the first.
A scanned document.
The second.
A bank record.
The third.
A photograph.
Then the fourth.
Derek froze.
It was a photograph of Willow.
Not recent.
Not from the hospital.
From three years ago.
She was sitting in a café.
Across from her was Daniel Mercer.
Derek stared.
"Why?"
He opened another file.
A typed message appeared.
She knows about the trust.
Derek's hands went cold.
Another.
Do not let Richard discover the original agreement.
Another.
The girl must believe the money was her husband's idea.
Derek's breathing became shallow.
The girl.
Willow.
He had thought he had manipulated her.
But maybe he had been manipulated too.
Then he opened the final file.
It contained one sentence.
IF DEREK EVER BECOMES A LIABILITY, USE CHLOE.
Derek stood so quickly that his chair fell backward.
"No."
His phone rang.
He looked at the screen.
Unknown number.
He answered.
"Hello?"
A man's voice spoke.
"You opened the files."
Derek's blood froze.
"Who is this?"
"You shouldn't have."
"Who are you?"
A pause.
Then:
"You know me."
The line disconnected.
Derek stared at the phone.
Someone was watching him.
Someone knew he had the files.
Someone knew about Chloe.
And someone knew exactly what Derek had done.
The next morning, Willow woke before sunrise.
Richard was already dressed.
Jonathan waited downstairs.
They drove north.
The landscape changed gradually.
Buildings disappeared.
The roads became narrower.
The mountains grew taller.
Willow sat quietly in the back seat.
She held her mother's journal.
"Do you think Elena is alive?"
Richard looked at her through the mirror.
"I think so."
"Why?"
"Because dead people don't make phone calls."
Willow smiled faintly.
Then her expression became serious.
"What if she knows who forged my signature?"
"Then we'll find out."
"What if Derek wasn't responsible?"
Richard glanced at her.
"Do you believe that?"
"I don't know."
She looked out the window.
"I know he betrayed me."
"Yes."
"I know he cheated."
"Yes."
"I know he took my money."
"Yes."
"But I don't know if he started it."
Richard didn't answer.
Because he was beginning to suspect the same thing.
They reached the property just before noon.
A small house sat among tall trees.
No lights.
No cars.
Snow covered the front steps.
Jonathan checked the windows.
"Nobody's been here recently."
Richard opened the front door.
It was unlocked.
Willow followed.
Inside, everything was clean.
Too clean.
The house looked abandoned but prepared.
A fire had recently burned in the fireplace.
There were groceries in the refrigerator.
Fresh water.
A bed that had clearly been slept in.
Someone had been here.
Recently.
Jonathan moved through the rooms.
"Nothing."
Willow noticed something on the wall.
A photograph.
She walked closer.
It was a family picture.
Daniel Mercer.
A young Elena.
And a woman.
Willow stared.
She knew the woman.
Her breath stopped.
"Mom."
Richard came running.
He looked at the photograph.
His face went white.
His wife stood beside Daniel Mercer.
And Elena.
But the photograph was dated twenty-one years earlier.
A year before Daniel supposedly died.
Richard whispered,
"Why was she with him?"
Willow touched the frame.
Something was written on the back.
She turned it over.
Three words.
HE NEVER DIED.
Richard stared.
Jonathan stepped closer.
"Richard."
Richard looked at him.
Jonathan pointed toward the floor.
Fresh footprints.
Someone had been standing there.
Recently.
Willow's heart began pounding.
"Elena."
A voice came from upstairs.
"No."
They froze.
The voice came again.
"Don't come upstairs."
Richard reached inside his coat.
Willow grabbed his arm.
"Don't."
The voice continued.
"If you want the truth, come alone."
Richard looked toward the staircase.
"Who are you?"
Silence.
Then:
"Someone who tried to warn your wife twenty years ago."
Willow looked at her father.
Richard's face had gone pale.
He whispered,
"Elena."
The voice answered.
"Yes."
Then the lights went out.
Total darkness.
A door slammed upstairs.
Jonathan moved immediately.
"Stay here."
Richard grabbed a flashlight.
They ran toward the staircase.
But when they reached the second floor, there was no one.
Only an open window.
Snow blew into the room.
On the floor lay a small envelope.
Willow picked it up.
Her name was written across the front.
WILLOW.
Her hands trembled as she opened it.
Inside was a single photograph.
Willow looked at it.
Then stopped breathing.
It showed her mother.
Standing beside Daniel Mercer.
And beside them was a much younger Richard.
All three were looking at the camera.
On the back, someone had written:
YOUR FATHER KNEW.
Willow looked at Richard.
"Dad?"
He didn't answer.
Because for the first time in his life, Richard Ashford had no explanation.
And somewhere outside the house, a car engine started.
Elena Mercer was gone.
But she had left them with the one question Richard had spent twenty years trying to forget.
May you like
What really happened the night Daniel Mercer supposedly died?
And why had Willow's mother been there?
