The place where Edward Mercer supposedly died had not operated as a hospice in four years.
Daniel learned that before he left the old Bellmont building.
Richard found the property records while Marcus Reed coordinated with the officers guarding Sophie. The facility sat seventy miles north of the city on eleven wooded acres, hidden behind an old stone wall and a private road that curved far enough from the highway to make the main building invisible from passing traffic.
Its name had once been Cedar Ridge Hospice.
Now the property belonged to a trust.
Richard enlarged the ownership record on his phone.
“Eastbridge.”
Daniel looked at him.
“The same trust connected to Dad.”
“Yes.”
“So he owned the place where he staged his death.”
“Through layers, but yes.”
Thomas stood near the window.
“He didn’t own it when he first went there.”
Daniel turned.
“You’ve been there.”
“Once.”
“When?”
“The night Edward disappeared.”
Daniel felt another piece of his patience die.
“You said you handled the private arrangements.”
“I did.”
“You never mentioned driving him to a property he secretly controlled.”
“I didn’t know he controlled it.”
Daniel picked up his coat.
“Come with me.”
Thomas hesitated.
“That may be what Margaret expects.”
“Good.”
“Or what someone expects her to make you do.”
Daniel stopped.
“Also good.”
Richard frowned.
“That makes no sense.”
“It does to me.”
Daniel looked at all three men.
“I have spent two days reacting to messages designed to move me from one revelation to the next. I’m done pretending I can avoid the trap by refusing to enter it.”
Marcus Reed crossed his arms.
“And your plan?”
“Enter knowing it’s a trap.”
“That is not a plan.”
“It is if you bring enough police.”
Daniel left Sophie where she was.
That decision hurt more than going to Cedar Ridge.
She had already been moved too many times. Marcus Reed assigned additional officers and changed every access authorization personally.
Daniel spoke to her before leaving.
“Grandma might need help.”
Sophie sat cross-legged on a sofa with her mother’s old photograph beside her.
“Did Grandma do something bad?”
Daniel crouched.
“I don’t know yet.”
“She sounded sad.”
“She probably is.”
Sophie looked at him carefully.
“Are you sad?”
“Yes.”
“Mad too?”
“Yes.”
“That’s a lot.”
Daniel smiled faintly.
“It is.”
She touched his sleeve.
“Mom said people can do bad things because they’re scared.”
Daniel’s throat tightened.
“When did she tell you that?”
“I don’t remember.”
He kissed Sophie’s forehead.
“I’ll come back.”
She gave him a suspicious look.
“You said promises count when they’re hard.”
“I remember.”
“Okay.”
This time she hugged him first.
Daniel held her longer than he meant to.
Then he left.
Cedar Ridge appeared through bare trees shortly before sunset.
The building looked less like a hospice than a country estate converted reluctantly for medical use.
Three stories of gray stone.
Tall windows.
A covered entrance.
No exterior lights.
No visible vehicles.
Police established a perimeter beyond the property line.
Marcus Reed insisted on entering first.
Daniel refused.
They compromised badly: Marcus entered ten steps ahead.
Richard and Thomas followed Daniel.
Eleanor remained behind under police supervision.
Daniel had not wanted her anywhere near Sophie, and Eleanor had not protested.
The front door of Cedar Ridge was unlocked.
Inside, the lobby smelled of dust and old disinfectant.
Furniture remained beneath white sheets.
A reception desk stood abandoned.
Daniel saw grooves in the floor where medical equipment had once been rolled.
Thomas pointed toward the east corridor.
“Edward’s room was that way.”
They moved slowly.
Room 114.
Empty.
Hospital bed gone.
Curtains removed.
Only faded rectangles on the walls showed where pictures had hung.
Daniel stood in the doorway.
“This is where Mom saw him.”
“Yes.”
“Alive.”
“Yes.”
“Then what?”
Thomas looked toward the window.
“Edward asked me to return after midnight.”
“Why?”
“He said he had made a decision.”
“What decision?”
“To disappear.”
Daniel entered.
“What did he tell you?”
“That Hartwell would eventually destroy Bellmont if he remained visible.”
“And pretending to die fixed that?”
“He believed his death would freeze several obligations.”
“While transferring others to me.”
“Yes.”
Daniel looked at him.
“You understood that.”
“Not fully.”
“You understood enough.”
Thomas did not argue.
Daniel walked toward the window.
“Who supplied the body?”
Thomas went pale.
“I don’t know.”
Daniel turned.
“You arranged the funeral.”
“Edward arranged that part.”
“A dying man obtained a corpse that resembled him.”
Thomas’s voice became rough.
“He had people.”
“Hartwell?”
“I assumed so.”
Richard spoke from the doorway.
“Maybe not.”
Daniel looked at him.
Richard was examining the old room-number plate.
“What?”
“There’s a newer screw on this.”
Marcus Reed came closer.
Richard removed the plate.
Behind it sat a small brass key.
Daniel stared.
“Dad.”
Thomas whispered, “Or Margaret.”
The key opened a locked cabinet in the bathroom.
Inside were patient charts.
Not Edward’s.
Daniel flipped through them.
Most names meant nothing.
Then he found one.
Samuel Pierce.
Male.
Sixty-eight.
Terminal pancreatic cancer.
No family.
Admitted six days before Edward’s staged death.
Declared deceased at 3:12 a.m. on the same morning Edward supposedly died.
Daniel stared.
“Samuel Pierce.”
Richard read over his shoulder.
“Physical description.”
Same approximate height as Edward.
Similar weight after Edward’s illness.
Same hair color.
Daniel felt nauseated.
“That was the man in the coffin.”
Thomas sat heavily on the edge of the old bathtub.
“I didn’t know.”
Daniel looked at him.
“You never asked.”
Thomas covered his face.
“No.”
Daniel read further.
Samuel Pierce had requested cremation.
No embalming.
No viewing.
Instead, his body apparently vanished into Edward Mercer’s funeral.
A dying stranger had been used as camouflage.
Daniel shut the file.
“He had no family, so Dad thought nobody would notice.”
Richard’s expression was grim.
“Or somebody selected him because nobody would notice.”
Daniel found another document behind Pierce’s chart.
A payment authorization.
Northbridge Advisory.
He stared.
“Again.”
Thomas stood.
“What?”
“Northbridge paid Cedar Ridge.”
“How much?”
“Two hundred thousand.”
Richard took the page.
“Authorization code?”
Daniel already saw it.
M-17.
Another Mercer contingency code.
Then footsteps sounded above them.
Marcus Reed raised his weapon.
Everyone went silent.
A floorboard creaked.
Daniel looked toward the ceiling.
Someone was upstairs.
Marcus spoke quietly into his radio.
No response.
The thick stone walls blocked signal.
He motioned toward the hallway.
They moved to the staircase.
Daniel started up.
Marcus grabbed his arm.
“I go first.”
Daniel let him.
Second floor.
Empty corridor.
Another sound.
Third floor.
A door closed.
Marcus accelerated.
They reached the landing.
At the far end, light showed beneath one door.
Daniel knew before anyone told him.
Someone was waiting.
Marcus approached from the side.
He pushed the door open.
“Security!”
No response.
Daniel entered behind him.
Margaret sat beside a hospital bed.
She was alone.
An oxygen cylinder stood nearby.
A lamp glowed on the nightstand.
Daniel stopped.
“Mom.”
Margaret looked up.
Her eyes were swollen.
“You came.”
Daniel searched the room.
“Where is he?”
She looked toward the empty bed.
“Gone.”
“Dad?”
“Yes.”
Daniel’s pulse quickened.
“He was here?”
“Until this afternoon.”
Thomas stepped inside.
Margaret’s expression hardened.
“You brought him.”
Daniel ignored that.
“You’ve been seeing Dad.”
Margaret nodded.
“How long?”
“Four months.”
The same period since she found Anna’s letter.
Daniel stared.
“You knew he was alive before today.”
“Yes.”
“Why lie?”
“Because Edward said the moment you knew, Hartwell would know.”
Daniel laughed bitterly.
“Dad seems to have built his entire moral philosophy around everybody else staying ignorant.”
Margaret lowered her eyes.
Daniel stepped closer.
“The recording.”
Her face changed.
“Which one?”
“Your voice telling Renner he didn’t need anything in writing.”
Margaret looked horrified.
“You heard that?”
“Yes.”
“I can explain.”
“Then explain.”
She stood.
“I spoke to Renner.”
“When?”
“The night before Anna died.”
“Why?”
“Edward asked me to.”
Daniel felt anger rise.
“What did he tell you?”
“That Renner had been hired to frighten Anna.”
“By whom?”
“He said Hartwell.”
“Did Dad order the brake sabotage?”
“No.”
“Did you?”
“No.”
“Then why are you on Renner’s recording?”
“Because Edward wanted me to find out what Renner had been told.”
Daniel stared.
“You called pretending to be the person who hired him.”
Margaret nodded.
The meaning shifted.
The words on the recording had sounded like instructions.
Perhaps they were confirmation.
Daniel remembered the exact exchange.
I want the terms in writing.
You don’t need writing.
And if she drives?
She won’t get far.
“You knew the brakes were damaged.”
“Yes.”
“Before Anna drove.”
“Yes.”
Daniel’s control nearly broke.
“And you didn’t call her.”
“I did.”
“When?”
“7:45.”
“Did she answer?”
“No.”
“Call me?”
“Yes.”
Daniel stared.
“I never got it.”
“I know.”
“Richard?”
“I thought he already knew.”
Richard stiffened.
Margaret continued.
“Edward said Richard was handling it.”
Daniel looked at Richard.
He had been.
Badly.
Too many people had each assumed another person would stop Anna from getting into the car.
A chain of secrecy had become lethal.
Daniel turned back.
“Who actually hired Renner?”
Margaret shook her head.
“I don’t know.”
“Dad does.”
“Yes.”
Daniel’s heartbeat quickened.
“You said he was here until this afternoon.”
“He left after someone contacted him.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
“What did they say?”
“He wouldn’t tell me.”
“Where did he go?”
Margaret hesitated.
Daniel’s voice sharpened.
“Mom.”
“He said he had to finish what Anna started.”
“Where?”
“I don’t know.”
Daniel stared at her.
“You expect me to believe that?”
She reached into her coat.
Marcus Reed tensed.
Margaret removed an envelope.
“Edward left this.”
Daniel took it.
His name.
Edward’s handwriting.
Inside was a photograph.
Paul Renner.
Alive.
The photograph was recent.
Timestamped yesterday.
Daniel looked up.
“Renner is alive.”
Margaret nodded.
“Dad found him.”
“Where?”
“I don’t know.”
On the back of the photograph Edward had written:
Renner finally remembered who gave him the order.
Daniel’s pulse accelerated.
Beneath it:
It was not Margaret.
Not Richard.
Not Thomas.
Not Eleanor.
Not Marcus Whitmore.
Daniel read the exclusions twice.
Everyone they had suspected.
Everyone inside the immediate Meridian circle.
Then a final sentence:
Anna knew the name before she died.
Daniel looked at his mother.
“Who?”
Margaret whispered, “Edward wouldn’t tell me.”
A sound came from the hallway.
A phone ringing.
Not Daniel’s.
Not Richard’s.
Thomas checked his pocket.
Nothing.
Margaret looked toward the empty bed.
The ringing came from beneath it.
Daniel crouched.
A disposable phone had been taped to the bed frame.
He removed it.
Incoming call.
No number.
Daniel answered.
“Hello?”
A man breathed on the other end.
Then:
“Daniel Mercer?”
“Yes.”
“This is Paul Renner.”
Daniel stopped moving.
Everyone stared.
“Where are you?”
“I don’t have much time.”
“Who hired you?”
Renner breathed shakily.
“I thought it was Hartwell.”
“Who?”
“The contact used the name Carter.”
Daniel froze.
Claire’s surname.
“Claire?”
“No.”
Renner’s voice weakened.
“Not Claire.”
“Then who?”
A noise sounded on Renner’s end.
He whispered:
“Ask Anna’s sister who Emma’s father was.”
The line disconnected.
Daniel stared at the phone.
Claire’s daughter.
Emma.
The child who had been sick the morning Anna died.
The child who later died.
Daniel looked at Margaret.
“Who was Emma’s father?”
Margaret’s face went white.
Thomas turned away.
Daniel understood before anyone answered.
“No.”
Margaret whispered his name.
Daniel looked at his uncle.
Thomas Mercer would not meet his eyes.
Click here to continue reading: PART 18: The Identity of Claire’s Daughter’s Father Exposed a Family Relationship That Gave Someone Outside Bellmont Access to Every Mercer Secret
A Quiet Dinner in Booth Seventeen Became the Test Daniel Mercer Had Been Waiting Two Months to Conduct
Part 17 of 35
