Chapter 15 - THE PRICE OF A FINGERPRINT
Z
Nora woke inside Bellweather.
She knew before opening her eyes.
Old buildings had smells.
Bellweather smelled of wet limestone, rust, ash, and cold salt air drifting from Elliott Bay.
Her wrists were tied.
Not tightly.
That worried her.
Mercer wanted her usable.
She opened her eyes.
Andrew Mercer sat across from her.
No white coat now.
Dark suit.
Silver hair.
Elegant.
A philanthropist prepared for dinner.
Nora hated him instantly.
“My father made you nervous.”
Mercer smiled.
“Your father was annoying.”
“Good.”
“He had the irritating habit of believing morality gave him courage.”
“Did it?”
“No.”
“He hid your network for fourteen years.”
Mercer's smile faded slightly.
Nora smiled.
“Sounds courageous.”
He stood.
On the table between them lay the necklace.
Silver.
Small.
Nora had forgotten how ordinary it looked.
Her father had given it to her on her sixteenth birthday.
She wore it every day until university.
Mercer lifted it.
“Remarkable thing.”
“Cheap.”
“Sentimental people confuse price with value.”
“You murdered my father for it.”
“I murdered your father because he refused to give me what belonged to me.”
“Names don't belong to you.”
“Those names built my empire.”
Nora looked around.
“Your empire seems dusty.”
Mercer's mouth twitched.
She was buying time.
Adrian would come.
If he survived the apartment attack.
Don't think that.
She pushed the fear down.
“Where's Richard?”
“Alive.”
“Lincoln?”
“Still incarcerated.”
“Marcus?”
Mercer became still.
Interesting.
“You don't know.”
“My son has always been sentimental.”
Nora's stomach tightened.
“So he really is your son.”
“Yes.”
“Why put him beside Adrian?”
“Because Adrian trusts very few people.”
“And Marcus became one.”
“Too much.”
Something sharp entered Mercer's tone.
Nora saw it.
“You hate that.”
“Excuse me?”
“You sent your son to spy on Adrian, and he became loyal to him.”
Mercer walked closer.
“Marcus understands blood.”
“No.”
Nora smiled.
“He understands family.”
The slap came fast.
Her head snapped sideways.
Pain burst along her cheek.
Nora slowly turned back.
Mercer's control had cracked.
Good.
“You sound like your father.”
“Thank you.”
He grabbed her hand.
Placed her thumb against the pendant clasp.
Nothing.
Mercer frowned.
Again.
Nothing.
Nora laughed.
“What?”
“It wasn't my thumb.”
His eyes narrowed.
“You said fingerprint.”
“I didn't.”
Lincoln had.
And Lincoln had been wrong before.
Mercer's face hardened.
“Which finger?”
Nora shrugged.
“I don't remember.”
“You wore this for years.”
“Do you remember exactly how you opened every necklace twenty years ago?”
Mercer stared.
Then smiled.
“Fortunately, I have ten fingers to try.”
One by one.
Thumb.
Index.
Middle.
Ring.
Little.
Nothing.
Other hand.
Nothing.
Mercer stepped back.
Confusion.
Nora looked at the necklace.
Then remembered.
Her father had always fastened it for her.
Not Nora's fingerprint.
Thomas's.
But he was dead.
Unless—
Nora's eyes widened.
Mercer saw it.
“What?”
She said nothing.
He grabbed her face.
“What?”
The door opened.
Richard Pierce stumbled inside.
Two armed men pushed him.
He looked terrible.
Mercer said, “Thomas's fingerprint.”
Richard laughed.
“You finally figured it out.”
Nora stared.
“You knew.”
Richard coughed.
“Thomas wasn't stupid.”
Mercer lifted the pendant.
“But he's dead.”
Richard smiled through blood.
“Yes.”
Mercer's face became cold.
“Then why protect it with a dead man's fingerprint?”
Richard looked at Nora.
“Because he left one.”
Nora frowned.
Where?
Her father's desk?
Medical records?
A preserved print?
Then memory.
The brass key.
Thomas had coated it.
No.
Too fragile.
The cassette recorder?
Mercer understood before she did.
“The hospital.”
Richard smiled.
“The pathology archive.”
Nora's stomach rolled.
Hospitals retained tissue samples.
Mercer turned toward his men.
“Get the Whitmore pathology materials.”
Nora felt sick.
Richard looked at her.
“Sorry.”
She whispered, “For which part?”
“All of it.”
Outside, something exploded.
The building shook.
Mercer's head snapped up.
Nora smiled.
“That's probably my terrifying billionaire.”
Gunfire erupted.
Mercer grabbed Nora.
Dragged her upright.
A gun pressed against her side.
“Move.”
They entered the main corridor.
Smoke rolled from the lobby.
Adrian's men.
Or federal agents.
Nora couldn't tell.
Richard fell behind.
Mercer pulled Nora toward the roof stairs.
“You know,” Nora said breathlessly, “this building really hates you.”
“Shut up.”
“First hidden rooms. Then collapsing elevators.”
“Nora.”
“Now explosions.”
He pressed the gun harder.
They reached the roof.
Rain struck her face.
Seattle lights burned beyond the edge.
A helicopter waited.
Of course.
Mercer dragged Nora forward.
Then a man stepped from behind the rooftop mechanical room.
Marcus.
Blood covered his shirt.
Gun in hand.
Mercer stopped.
“Son.”
Marcus looked at Nora.
Then his father.
“Let her go.”
Mercer smiled.
“You chose him.”
Marcus's jaw tightened.
“I chose myself.”
“You're a Cross.”
“Yes.”
Mercer's expression shifted.
Marcus continued.
“But so is Adrian.”
A second voice came from behind Mercer.
“And unlike you, he earned my loyalty.”
Adrian.
Nora almost collapsed with relief.
He stood at the stairwell entrance.
Gun raised.
Mercer trapped between them.
His hand tightened around Nora.
“Drop your weapons.”
Neither moved.
“I'll kill her.”
Adrian's face went still.
“Then you die next.”
Nora knew that voice.
The one from the wrong number.
Quiet.
Controlled.
Certain.
Mercer laughed.
“You think I won't?”
Adrian looked directly at Nora.
Not Mercer.
Nora understood.
Trust what he chooses when keeping you safe becomes inconvenient.
Her mother's words.
Adrian lowered his gun.
Marcus stared.
“Adrian.”
He placed it on the roof.
Mercer smiled.
“Good.”
Then Adrian kicked the weapon toward Nora.
Mercer looked down.
One second.
That was all Nora needed.
She drove her heel backward into Mercer's knee.
He shouted.
The gun moved.
Marcus fired.
Mercer stumbled.
Adrian lunged.
Nora dropped.
The three men crashed against the wet rooftop.
Mercer reached for his weapon.
Nora grabbed Adrian's gun.
Raised it.
Her hands shook.
Mercer saw her.
For the first time, Andrew Mercer looked afraid.
“Don't.”
Nora stared down the barrel.
Her father.
Her mother.
Lincoln.
Jessica.
Fourteen years of lies.
One movement of her finger could end him.
Then she lowered the gun.
“No.”
Mercer smiled weakly.
“Too soft.”
Nora shook her head.
“No.”
Federal agents flooded the roof.
“You don't get to disappear into death.”
Handcuffs closed around Mercer.
May you like
Nora met his eyes.
“You get to live long enough to watch every name on that necklace destroy what you built.”
