Chapter 6 - THE WOMAN WHO KNEW TOO MUCHThe house was still burning when Dominic arrived.
Firefighters moved through clouds of gray smoke while police blocked the narrow residential street.
Dominic jumped from the SUV before it had completely stopped.
Vincent caught up with him.
“Sir, you need to stay behind the line.”
“Is she inside?”
“We don't know.”
Dominic approached the nearest officer.
“Evelyn Mercer. Does she live here?”
The officer looked toward the house.
“Who are you?”
“Dominic Vale.”
Recognition flashed across the man's face.
Dominic continued.
“She may have information about a homicide. She could be in danger.”
The officer spoke into his radio.
A firefighter emerged carrying a small black bag.
Behind him, two paramedics escorted an elderly woman wrapped in a blanket.
Dominic froze.
She had silver hair and a deeply lined face.
She was coughing, but she was alive.
“Evelyn?”
The woman looked up.
Her expression changed.
“Arthur?”
Dominic went still.
She stared at him.
Then her eyes filled with tears.
“No. You're his son.”
Evelyn Mercer was seventy-four years old.
She had once worked as the Vale family's accountant.
She had resigned sixteen years earlier, just three weeks after Arthur Vale's death.
Dominic had never questioned why.
He had been too devastated.
His father had been the only person in the family who treated him like a child rather than an heir.
Arthur taught him to fish.
To repair engines.
To apologize when he was wrong.
Dominic remembered the last conversation they had shared.
Arthur had called him from the marina.
“Come by tomorrow, son. There's something important we need to discuss.”
Tomorrow never came.
Now Evelyn sat inside an ambulance, clutching a bottle of water.
Detective Brooks arrived shortly afterward.
Dominic explained the letter and photograph.
Brooks arranged for Evelyn to be transported to a hospital under police protection.
Before she left, she grabbed Dominic's wrist.
“Your father tried to protect you.”
Dominic swallowed.
“From what?”
Evelyn looked toward the burning house.
“From what he found in the company.”
“Tell me.”
She shook her head.
“Not here.”
Then she whispered something he would never forget.
“Your mother wasn't always the one giving Graham orders.”
At the hospital, Evelyn agreed to provide a formal statement.
Detective Brooks conducted the interview while Dominic waited outside.
Two hours passed.
Then three.
Rebecca arrived with documents.
At last, Brooks opened the door.
“She wants to speak with you.”
Dominic entered.
Evelyn was sitting upright in bed.
A bandage covered her left forearm.
She gestured toward the chair.
“Sit down, Dominic.”
He obeyed.
For a moment, she studied his face.
“You look so much like Arthur.”
Dominic swallowed.
“People used to tell me that.”
“He would have been proud of the man you became.”
Dominic looked away.
“I haven't been much of a father.”
Evelyn's expression softened.
“Then you have something important left to do.”
He met her eyes.
“Tell me what happened.”
She drew a slow breath.
“Sixteen years ago, Northpoint was losing money. Your father discovered someone had been moving millions through nonexistent shipping contracts.”
“Who?”
“Your mother authorized the transfers.”
Dominic closed his eyes.
“But she wasn't the only one involved.”
“Graham?”
“Yes.”
“Who else?”
Evelyn looked toward the door.
“William Prescott.”
Dominic stared.
The chairman.
The man who had presided over his removal that morning.
Evelyn continued.
“Prescott was the company's outside financial adviser. Graham handled security and offshore contacts. Your mother controlled the accounts.”
Dominic felt sick.
“What were they doing?”
“Moving company money through shell businesses and concealing the transfers with false invoices. Arthur discovered the discrepancies.”
“Why didn't he report them?”
“He was preparing to. I helped him assemble the records.”
“Then what happened?”
Evelyn's eyes filled with tears.
“He confronted them at the marina.”
Dominic barely breathed.
“I was supposed to meet him afterward. He called me at 9:17 that night.”
“What did he say?”
“He told me to keep the documents safe and call the authorities if I didn't hear from him.”
Dominic gripped the chair.
“Did you?”
“I tried.”
She wiped her eyes.
“By morning, the family announced he'd died of a heart attack.”
Dominic stared.
“Were you at the marina?”
“No.”
“Then you don't know how he died.”
“No. But I saw Graham leaving the property after midnight. His shirt was torn. He had blood on his sleeve.”
Dominic went cold.
“Did you tell the police?”
“I gave a statement. They said the medical examiner found no reason to investigate further.”
She looked down.
“Then someone broke into my house. They stole the copies I'd kept.”
Dominic's jaw tightened.
“Who?”
“I never saw their faces.”
“Why didn't you come to me?”
“You were twenty-one. Your mother controlled everything around you.”
Dominic stared at the floor.
“And Celeste found you?”
Evelyn nodded.
“Almost two years ago.”
“What did you tell her?”
“Everything I could.”
“Did she have evidence?”
“She found financial records I couldn't access.”
Evelyn looked toward the window.
“She was determined to prove what happened to Arthur.”
Dominic felt tears burning behind his eyes.
Celeste had been investigating his father's death.
She had been trying to protect him.
And he had spent two years believing she had drowned.
“Why did she go to the marina?” he asked.
Evelyn hesitated.
“Because she arranged to meet someone who claimed to have the missing documents.”
“Who?”
“A man using the name Daniel Cross.”
Dominic frowned.
“Do you know him?”
“No.”
Evelyn lowered her voice.
“But Celeste told me something strange.”
“What?”
“She said the man knew exactly what Oliver had witnessed.”
Dominic froze.
“Oliver?”
Evelyn nodded.
“She called me that morning. She said Oliver had seen Graham arguing with your mother in the nursery.”
Dominic remembered Celeste becoming increasingly protective of their son shortly before the accident.
She had insisted Oliver not spend nights with Beatrice.
He had assumed it was an ordinary family disagreement.
He had told her she was overreacting.
The memory made him physically ill.
“Why didn't Celeste tell me?”
“She tried, Dominic.”
He looked up.
Evelyn spoke gently.
“She said you were defending your mother. She was afraid you'd confront Beatrice before she had enough evidence.”
Dominic couldn't deny it.
He had defended Beatrice.
Repeatedly.
Even when Celeste cried.
Even when she begged him to listen.
Evelyn reached for his hand.
“She loved you.”
Dominic pressed his lips together.
“I know.”
“She wanted you to know the truth without losing everything.”
He shook his head.
“I lost her anyway.”
Evelyn said nothing.
That evening, Dominic returned home carrying the weight of sixteen years of unanswered questions.
Oliver was waiting in the kitchen.
Claire had helped him make chocolate-chip cookies.
Flour covered the counter.
One cookie looked almost completely burned.
Oliver proudly held it up.
“Daddy!”
Dominic smiled despite everything.
“What is that?”
“Cookie.”
“Looks delicious.”
Claire laughed softly.
“It needs a little work.”
Oliver shook his head.
“Daddy cookie.”
Dominic accepted it.
He took a bite.
It tasted like charcoal and sugar.
“Perfect.”
Oliver grinned.
For several seconds, Dominic forgot the board meeting.
The burning house.
The fraud.
The recording.
Then his phone rang.
Rebecca.
He stepped into the hallway.
“What did you find?”
“Prescott.”
Dominic's expression hardened.
“Go on.”
“He chaired the committee that approved Graham Pike's death-benefit payment.”
Dominic closed his eyes.
“Of course he did.”
“And there's more.”
“What?”
“Evelyn mentioned Daniel Cross. I searched the available Northpoint records.”
Dominic gripped the phone.
“He exists?”
“Someone using that name rented a storage unit near the marina the week Celeste disappeared.”
“Is it still active?”
“Yes.”
Dominic straightened.
“Tell Brooks.”
“I already did.”
“What's inside?”
“We don't know. Police are obtaining access.”
Dominic looked toward the kitchen.
Oliver was standing on a chair, carefully placing chocolate chips onto a fresh cookie.
The boy looked up.
“Daddy!”
Dominic smiled faintly.
Then Rebecca spoke.
“Dominic, there's one more thing.”
“What?”
“The rental agreement lists an emergency contact.”
He waited.
Rebecca's voice became very quiet.
“Celeste Vale.”
The police opened the storage unit shortly before midnight.
Inside were three sealed crates, a desk, and a battered leather suitcase.
The crates contained financial records.
Shipping manifests.
Bank transfers.
Copies of corporate correspondence.
Enough material to support a major forensic accounting investigation.
But the suitcase was different.
It contained women's clothing.
A photograph of Oliver.
A small medical kit.
And a passport.
Detective Brooks examined the passport.
The photograph showed Celeste.
But the name was not Celeste Vale.
It was Sarah Collins.
The passport appeared to be a sophisticated forgery.
Brooks opened a second compartment.
Inside was a folded map of northern Wisconsin.
One location had been circled.
A private medical facility near a small town called Pine Hollow.
Beneath the map lay a handwritten note.
If the treatment doesn't erase her memory, move her before Dominic finds out.
Brooks stared at the note.
Then he picked up his phone.
Dominic answered on the first ring.
“Did you find her?”
Brooks hesitated.
“We found evidence suggesting your wife may have been taken to Wisconsin.”
Dominic's knees nearly gave way.
“Is she alive?”
“We don't know.”
“Where?”
Brooks gave him the location.
Dominic was already reaching for his coat when the detective added:
“Mr. Vale, listen carefully. This may involve an active criminal operation. Do not go there yourself.”
Dominic stopped.
From upstairs came the faint sound of Oliver laughing in his sleep.
He looked toward the staircase.
For the first time, he realized he faced a choice his old self would have made without hesitation.
Chase the lead.
Leave the house.
Trust someone else to protect his son.
But Oliver had been abandoned too many times.
Dominic sat down.
“I'll stay with my boy.”
Brooks exhaled.
“That's the right call for now.”
Dominic closed his eyes.
“Just find my wife.”
The detective's reply was quiet.
“We're going to follow the evidence.”
And three hundred miles away, inside a locked room at the Pine Hollow facility, a woman with dark hair was staring at a photograph of a little boy.
May you like
She didn't remember his name.
But every time she looked at his face, she began to cry.
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