Chapter 3 - Laura Mercer’s Last Night
Gordon Shaw demanded an attorney.
Mark laughed.
“You are an attorney.”
“I’m also not an idiot.”
Detective Torres asked everyone to remain available while she sent the locket for forensic testing.
Gordon was not arrested.
Not yet.
The initials proved little.
The locket could have been engraved decades earlier.
The tripwire contained no clear fingerprints.
The deleted security footage had been accessed using an administrator login available to multiple people.
Too much suspicion.
Not enough proof.
Claire hated that.
By evening, Mercer House had become a fortress.
Police occupied the front drive.
Private security monitored each floor.
Claire and David moved into a first-floor guest suite because nobody wanted her using stairs.
David sat on the edge of the bed.
“I should’ve told you.”
Claire folded baby clothes into a suitcase.
“Yes.”
“I didn’t know about the locket.”
“That isn’t what I mean.”
He rubbed his face.
“My mother’s investigation.”
Claire stopped folding.
“How much?”
“Enough.”
“David.”
He looked at her.
“After Mom died, Dad told us she had become paranoid.”
“About Gordon?”
“About money.”
“Did you believe him?”
“I was seventeen.”
“And Mark?”
“Fifteen.”
Claire sat.
“What happened?”
“Mom started checking foundation accounts.”
“Why?”
“She believed someone was moving money through fake charities.”
“Gordon?”
“We never knew.”
David looked toward the door.
“After the crash, Dad shut everything down.”
“The investigation?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“He said there was no evidence.”
Claire thought of the locket in the wall.
“Was there?”
David looked ashamed.
“I never asked.”
The next morning, Mark knocked.
Claire almost told him to leave.
Then saw what he carried.
A small red storage box.
“What is that?”
“My mother’s.”
David stood.
“You took that from Dad’s study.”
“I liberated it.”
“You broke into his safe.”
“Semantics.”
Claire opened the box.
Letters.
Bank statements.
Photographs.
One cassette tape.
A handwritten diary.
Mark looked at David.
“Want to keep pretending there was no evidence?”
They read Laura’s diary.
At first, ordinary entries.
Board dinners.
School schedules.
Foundation events.
Then the tone changed.
March 8
Gordon says the discrepancies are accounting errors. I don’t believe him.
March 17
Celeste knows more than she admits.
Claire looked up.
“Celeste?”
David frowned.
“She knew my mother before she married Dad.”
“How well?”
“Charity circles.”
Mark continued reading.
April 2
Samuel changed the trust because of what he discovered. Henry still doesn’t understand.
April 5
Beth says someone accessed my office while I was at dinner.
Claire asked:
“Beth?”
“My mother’s assistant,” Mark said.
“Where is she?”
“No idea.”
“She disappeared after Mom died.”
The final diary entry was dated one day before the crash.
April 11
Gordon asked me to meet privately tomorrow. He says he will explain everything. I don’t trust him.
If I am wrong, I will apologize.
If I am right, David and Mark must never sign anything Gordon gives them.
David went pale.
Claire stared at him.
“You’ve signed documents for him.”
He did not answer.
“David.”
“For years.”
“How many?”
“Quarterly trust approvals.”
Mark closed his eyes.
“Jesus.”
Claire stood.
“What were you approving?”
“I thought routine transfers.”
“Thought?”
“I had corporate counsel review them.”
“Who?”
David looked at her.
“Gordon’s firm.”
Mark laughed bitterly.
“Fantastic.”
Before David could respond, Claire’s phone rang.
Dr. Emily Foster.
Her obstetrician.
“Claire?”
“Yes.”
“Are you somewhere private?”
Claire looked at David.
“Yes.”
“I need you to come to the hospital.”
Her heart jumped.
“Is something wrong with the baby?”
“We found an irregularity in your bloodwork.”
Claire stood frozen.
“What kind?”
“A medication metabolite.”
“I’m not taking medication.”
“That’s why I’m concerned.”
David was already grabbing his keys.
Claire asked:
“What medication?”
Dr. Foster paused.
“Something that can cause dizziness.”
Claire looked toward the staircase outside the room.
The wire.
The stairs.
The timing.
Someone had not merely set a trap.
They had been making sure she would be less able to catch herself.
“Claire?”
“I’m here.”
“I want you monitored.”
“We’re coming.”
They reached the hospital under police escort.
The baby’s heartbeat was strong.
Claire’s blood pressure was stable.
But repeat tests confirmed exposure.
Not enough to guarantee a fall.
Enough to increase the risk.
Detective Torres arrived.
“Food?”
Dr. Foster said.
“Possibly.”
“Supplements?”
“Possible.”
“Drinks?”
“Yes.”
David looked at Claire.
“You drink Rosa’s tea every night.”
Claire thought back.
Chamomile.
Honey.
Warm milk.
Always left beside her bed.
Torres returned to Mercer House and collected everything.
By afternoon, the laboratory found traces inside an herbal supplement bottle.
The bottle had Claire’s fingerprints.
Rosa’s.
And one other set.
Henry Mercer’s.
David stared at the report.
“No.”
Claire looked toward him.
“Your father.”
“He wouldn’t.”
“You said the same thing about Mark.”
“That was different.”
“How?”
David had no answer.
They returned home.
Henry waited in his study.
David placed the report on his desk.
“You touched Claire’s supplements?”
Henry stared.
“Yes.”
Claire’s heart sank.
“Why?”
“I gave them to Rosa.”
“When?”
“Two weeks ago.”
“Where did you get them?”
Henry looked toward Gordon.
He was not in the room.
Then answered:
“From Mercer Foundation Health.”
Mark, standing near the bookshelf, went still.
“What?”
Henry repeated the name.
Mark removed his phone.
He searched quickly.
Then looked at Claire.
“That foundation program is funded through Greyhaven Advisory.”
David frowned.
“What is Greyhaven?”
Mark’s answer was quiet.
“One of the shell companies Mom was investigating.”
Henry stood.
“That is impossible.”
“No.”
Mark turned the screen.
“Greyhaven received twenty-one million dollars from Mercer-controlled accounts.”
Claire stared at Henry.
“Who approved it?”
Silence.
Mark looked at David.
David looked back.
Then realized.
“No.”
Mark nodded.
“Your signature.”
David went pale.
Claire felt the room narrow.
Her husband had signed the money transfers.
His father had delivered the contaminated supplements.
His brother had been found beside the tripwire.
Every path led to a Mercer.
Maybe that was exactly what someone wanted.
Then Rosa entered.
“Ma’am?”
Claire turned.
Rosa held a package.
“It came for you.”
“No return address?”
Rosa shook her head.
Detective Torres opened it.
Inside was a photograph.
An old one.
Laura Mercer stood beside a younger Gordon Shaw.
Beside them was Celeste.
And behind Celeste—
Henry.
On the back:
THE FOUR WHO KNEW.
Beneath it:
ONLY THREE LEFT THE ROOM ALIVE.
Claire looked toward Henry.
“What room?”
Henry sat down.
He whispered:
“The Winter Room.”
Mark’s face changed.
“That room was sealed after Mom died.”
Claire stared.
“Why?”
May you like
Henry looked at his sons.
“Because that was where your mother confronted us.”
