The lights remained off.
For a moment, nobody moved.
Then Mercer spoke again.
“You have five minutes.”
His voice came calmly through the door.
No shouting.
No threats.
That made it worse.
Maya whispered, “Back wall.”
We moved toward it.
Jessica found a narrow service panel behind a cabinet.
“It opens.”
I helped her pull it free.
A dark crawl space appeared.
Maya went first.
Jessica followed.
I stayed behind long enough to hear the lock on the main door turn.
Mercer had entered the room.
I crawled into the passage.
Behind me, metal scraped.
Then the service panel slammed shut.
We moved through darkness until we reached an exit behind the warehouse.
Cold rain struck my face.
We ran.
A vehicle started somewhere nearby.
Headlights swept across the loading yard.
Maya pushed us behind a concrete barrier.
The vehicle drove past.
Mercer wasn't chasing us.
He didn't need to.
He had taken something from the warehouse before we escaped.
The ledger.
I realized it immediately.
The drawer where we'd found the photographs was open.
The ledger must have been there.
Mercer had known exactly where to look.
“He wanted us to find the tape,” Jessica said.
I turned toward her.
“What?”
“He let us see it.”
“Why?”
“Because he wanted us to know your mother is alive.”
Maya stared at her.
“That doesn't make sense.”
“It does if Mercer needs us to find her.”
“Why?”
Jessica looked at me.
“Because Elena knows where the original ledger is.”
The rain ran down her face.
“What is in that ledger?”
“Everything.”
She wiped water from her eyes.
“My father’s thefts. Mercer's payments. Names. Accounts. Bribes. Every person involved.”
“And my mother has it?”
“She had a copy.”
I thought of the trust documents.
“The original?”
Jessica shook her head.
“Your mother hid it before the fire.”
“Where?”
“I don't know.”
Maya said, “Then why would Mercer need you?”
“Because he believes Ethan can find her.”
I stared at Jessica.
“Why me?”
“Because Arthur is the only person Elena ever trusted with information about you.”
I remembered the monthly payments.
The alias.
The passport.
The photographs.
My father hadn't simply been hiding my mother.
He had been maintaining a lifeline.
We returned to Portland before dawn.
Arthur was still awake.
When I told him about the tape, he covered his face.
“She wanted you to know.”
“Where is she?”
“I don't know.”
“Dad.”
“I don't.”
Jessica stepped forward.
“She was in British Columbia.”
Arthur looked at her sharply.
“How do you know?”
“We found photographs.”
He closed his eyes.
“Then she must have moved.”
“When?”
“After the last payment.”
I looked at him.
“What last payment?”
Arthur hesitated.
“The month before you gave me the thousand dollars.”
My stomach tightened.
“You stopped sending money?”
“She told me to.”
“Why?”
“She said someone had found her.”
Mercer.
I looked at Maya.
“What did the DNA test say?”
She opened her briefcase.
“I haven't told you.”
My hands went cold.
“You have the results?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn't you say?”
“Because your father wanted you to hear it when he could explain.”
I took the packet.
The seal was intact.
My hands shook as I opened it.
The report compared my DNA with the sample Arthur had obtained from Elena's personal belongings.
The result was clear.
Biological relationship confirmed.
Mother and son.
I closed my eyes.
For thirty years, I had lived with a dead mother.
Now I had proof she was alive when my father collected the sample.
But the report had another date.
The sample was collected three months earlier.
I looked at Arthur.
“You saw her.”
He didn't answer.
“You saw her three months ago.”
His eyes filled with tears.
“She came to me.”
“Where?”
“She wouldn't tell me.”
“Dad.”
“She said she needed time.”
“Why?”
“She was afraid.”
“Of Mercer?”
“Of everyone.”
I couldn't stop the anger rising.
“You let me believe she was dead while you saw her three months ago.”
“I was trying to keep you alive.”
“I’m thirty-two.”
“I know.”
“I deserved the truth.”
“Yes.”
His voice broke.
“I know.”
Jessica stood quietly.
I turned toward her.
“Did you know about this?”
“No.”
For once, I believed her.
Maya placed another document on the table.
“There is something else.”
“What?”
“The trust isn't simply worth forty-seven million.”
I stared at her.
“It includes a controlling interest in several Morales companies.”
“So?”
“So whoever controls the trust controls the companies.”
Jessica's expression changed.
“My father spent years trying to get control.”
“Yes.”
“And Mercer?”
“He wanted the records because they could expose him.”
I thought about the ledger.
“Why didn't he destroy it?”
“Because some information in it is leverage.”
Maya opened another folder.
“Names of officials. Judges. Account numbers. Shell companies.”
I looked at Jessica.
“Your father was protecting Mercer.”
“No,” she said quietly.
“Then why did he keep him close?”
“Because Victor thought he could use him.”
“And he couldn't.”
She shook her head.
“Mercer used everyone.”
I sat down.
For the first time, I felt something other than fear.
I felt tired.
Deeply tired.
I wanted my mother.
I wanted my father to stop lying.
I wanted my marriage to make sense.
I wanted eight years of my life to be something other than a carefully constructed trap.
Jessica sat beside me.
“I know you hate me.”
“I don't hate you.”
She looked surprised.
“I don't know what I feel.”
“That may be worse.”
She was right.
I looked at her.
“Did you ever intend to hurt me?”
“No.”
“Did you ever think about taking the trust after I died?”
She looked away.
“I thought about it.”
The honesty hurt.
“But I never planned to kill you.”
“Why should I believe that?”
“Because if I wanted you dead, I wouldn't have spent eight years keeping you away from your father's enemies.”
I frowned.
“What does that mean?”
She looked at me.
“There were people watching you before I met you.”
“Who?”
“Mercer's people.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I was watching them.”
I stared at her.
“So you were protecting me?”
“In my own way.”
“That doesn't make what you did right.”
“I know.”
Maya interrupted.
“We have another problem.”
She placed a photograph on the table.
It showed my mother.
But this photograph was recent.
The timestamp was two weeks old.
She stood outside a small bookstore.
Beside her was a man.
I didn't recognize him.
Jessica did.
Her face went white.
“Who is that?”
“My mother's brother.”
“Victor?”
“No.”
She swallowed.
“Her other brother.”
I stared at the photograph.
“I thought Victor was the oldest.”
“He was.”
“Then who?”
Jessica looked at Maya.
“Gabriel.”
Maya nodded.
“Gabriel Morales.”
“Where is he?”
“We don't know.”
Jessica took the photograph.
There was an address printed beneath it.
A motel in Washington.
I recognized the town.
It was less than two hours away.
“We go there,” I said.
Arthur shook his head.
“No.”
I turned.
“Dad?”
“If Gabriel is with her, you're walking into something you don't understand.”
“I've been walking through it my whole life.”
Arthur looked at me.
“You don't know what Gabriel did.”
“What did he do?”
Arthur's face became grim.
“He was the man who helped Victor disappear the evidence.”
I stared at him.
“Then why would Mom be with him?”
Arthur had no answer.
The motel address was circled in red.
Below it, someone had written four words.
Ask him about October.
I looked at Maya.
“What happened in October?”
She didn't know.
Jessica did.
Her face had gone pale.
“That's the month my father died.”
I stared at the note.
Then my phone rang.
A woman spoke before I could say hello.
“Ethan?”
I stopped breathing.
I knew that voice.
I had heard it on an old recording.
My mother.
“I need you to listen carefully,” she whispered.
“Mom?”
Silence.
Then:
“Don't trust Gabriel.”
The line went dead.
Click here to continue reading: PART 8: My Mother Finally Called Me After Thirty Years, but Her First Warning Sent Me Toward the One Person My Father Had Feared Most
My Father Asked Me for a Thousand Dollars, Then Looked Past My Shoulder as Though He Was Afraid Someone Had Followed Him Home
Part 7 of 20
