Chapter 4 - THE FIRST PERSON WHO KNEW I WAS LYING
4
Nobody moved.
Uncle Martin stood one floor below us inside the dark church.
I looked at Marcus.
He shook his head.
No idea how Martin found us.
Rebecca quietly slid Samuel’s ledger into her bag.
Clara held the letter beneath her coat.
I stepped toward the attic stairs.
Marcus caught my arm.
“Don’t.”
“He already knows.”
“That doesn’t mean he knows where you are.”
Then Martin called again.
“Nathaniel, stop making this childish.”
Definitely knew.
I descended.
Fourteen years had changed Martin Cross.
His hair was almost completely white.
His shoulders narrower.
But his eyes remained the same.
Cold gray.
My father had those eyes too.
Martin stood alone beside the pews.
No visible weapon.
“You walk well for a paralyzed man.”
I stayed on the stairs.
“How long?”
“Since the ballroom.”
“How?”
Martin smiled.
“Vanessa is cruel but observant.”
“What did she see?”
“Your foot moved.”
Impossible.
Unless I had made a mistake.
Martin continued.
“She dropped her bracelet beside your chair.”
I remembered.
She had bent down.
I assumed she was drunk.
“She touched your ankle.”
Cold moved through me.
“You reacted.”
“I didn’t.”
“Muscle tension.”
He tapped his temple.
“She spent months around rehabilitation specialists after the accident. Your performance was good. Not perfect.”
Vanessa knew.
Then every private conversation around her since the ballroom had potentially been theater too.
“Why didn’t she confront me?”
“Because we wanted to know what you were looking for.”
There.
We.
“You and Vanessa.”
Martin smiled.
“Among others.”
“Did you cut my brake line?”
“No.”
The answer came easily.
“Did you order it?”
“No.”
“Did you order my father’s death?”
Martin’s smile disappeared.
“You found Samuel’s records.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“No.”
Again.
“Did you kill Samuel Bennett?”
Clara came down the stairs.
Martin looked at her.
Recognition appeared.
“You look like him.”
Clara’s voice shook.
“Did you kill my father?”
“No.”
“Did Evelyn?”
“No.”
“Who?”
Martin looked toward me.
“This is where you discover the danger of assuming the worst person in the room is responsible for every crime.”
I almost laughed.
“You want me to believe you’re misunderstood?”
“No.”
He walked toward a pew.
“I did things your father would have called unforgivable.”
“Such as?”
“I built Harborlight.”
I stared.
“Why?”
“Originally? To hide money during a hostile takeover period.”
“Samuel’s ledger says you used it to finance sabotage.”
“Samuel believed that.”
“Was he wrong?”
“Yes.”
“Then why did vehicles keep failing?”
“Because someone hijacked Harborlight.”
“Who?”
Martin looked tired.
“I spent fourteen years trying to prove that.”
I did not believe him.
“You expect me to accept that after hiding all of this?”
“I expect nothing.”
He sat.
“Your father thought I was stealing from him.”
“Were you?”
“Yes.”
That surprised me.
“At least you’re honest.”
“I was moving money without Robert’s permission.”
“Why?”
“To create a reserve he couldn’t spend.”
I stared.
“Robert was expanding too fast. Debt was rising. I believed he would bankrupt us.”
“So you stole company money to save the company.”
“That is the generous version.”
“What’s the less generous version?”
“I liked having a private fund.”
That sounded more believable.
“But I did not kill Robert.”
“Samuel recorded himself saying you ordered vehicle failures.”
“Did he record me ordering one?”
“No.”
“Then he recorded his conclusion.”
Clara stepped closer.
“My father died two years later.”
Martin looked at her.
“I tried to move him out of state before the fire.”
“What?”
“He refused.”
“Why would you help him?”
“Because by then Samuel knew I wasn’t the one causing the failures.”
Clara’s face changed.
“Do you have proof?”
Martin reached into his coat.
Marcus raised his weapon.
“Slowly.”
Martin removed an envelope.
Inside was a photograph.
Samuel Bennett and Martin.
Taken eight months before Samuel’s death.
They were standing outside a motel.
On the back:
WE WERE WRONG ABOUT M.
Clara whispered:
“My dad wrote that.”
Martin nodded.
“M was me.”
“Who was he investigating instead?”
Martin looked at me.
“Evelyn.”
Vanessa’s mother.
The ballroom flashed in my memory.
Evelyn’s satisfied expression.
Her daughter insulting me.
The board comment.
“Why?”
“Insurance.”
Martin explained.
Evelyn Vale had access to Harborlight because she handled claims.
She realized damaged executive vehicles generated enormous opportunities.
Insurance payouts.
Control transitions.
Emergency voting arrangements.
Stock-price fluctuations.
At first, she allegedly manipulated claims after accidents.
Then someone started causing accidents intentionally.
Martin believed Evelyn did not act alone.
“Who?”
“I never proved it.”
“Daniel?”
“No.”
His answer was immediate.
“Daniel tried to warn Robert.”
I thought of the tape.
“What happened after?”
“Your father dismissed him.”
“What?”
“Robert thought Daniel was too young to understand what he saw.”
Daniel would have been twenty-three.
An analyst in the finance office.
My college friend.
“Why was Daniel involved?”
“His father worked at North Ridge.”
I stared.
“Daniel told me his father died when he was ten.”
“He lied.”
Everyone in my life apparently had an alternate biography.
Martin continued.
“Daniel Mercer’s father was Thomas Mercer.”
The name from the Harborlight ledger.
CFO.
Killed in a brake-failure accident six years before my father.
Thomas Vey had been an alias used in certain internal records.
Daniel’s father had been the first listed death.
My closest friend entered Cross Meridian not merely because we attended university together.
He had come seeking answers.
Just like Clara.
“Daniel knew.”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“Enough to be afraid of Evelyn.”
“And Vanessa?”
Martin’s expression darkened.
“Vanessa was nineteen when Thomas Mercer died. Whether she knew then, I don’t know.”
“What about now?”
“She knows something.”
I thought of her searching behind the portrait.
“She knew Samuel hid evidence.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Evelyn.”
Marcus asked:
“How did you find us tonight?”
Martin looked toward Clara.
“Her aunt.”
Clara went pale.
“What?”
“She called Evelyn after Clara contacted her.”
Clara took a step backward.
“No.”
Martin shook his head.
“Your aunt isn’t involved. She thought you were in danger and called the woman who handled your mother’s settlement years ago.”
Evelyn.
“She still had the number.”
Clara looked devastated.
Martin continued:
“Evelyn contacted Vanessa. Vanessa contacted me.”
“So why are you here alone?”
“Because I got here first.”
“Where is Vanessa?”
Martin looked at his watch.
“She’ll arrive soon.”
“Evelyn?”
“Probably.”
I thought.
If Martin was lying, he wanted us to believe Evelyn was the center.
If he was telling the truth, we were standing in the one place she now knew contained Samuel’s evidence.
Neither scenario supported staying.
“We leave.”
Martin stood.
“You won’t make it through the front.”
Marcus went toward a side window.
Headlights appeared outside.
Three vehicles.
Black SUVs.
Vanessa stepped from the first.
Evelyn from the second.
Daniel from the third.
Clara whispered:
“Daniel?”
My old friend looked toward the church.
His expression was impossible to read.
Then he removed his phone and called me.
I answered.
“Nathaniel.”
“What are you doing with them?”
“Getting you out.”
“Explain.”
“No time.”
“Daniel—”
“Listen carefully.”
His voice changed.
“The accident was supposed to kill you.”
“I know.”
“No.”
He sounded terrified.
“You don’t.”
I looked through the church window.
Daniel stood ten yards from Evelyn.
“She didn’t want you dead because of the company.”
“Then why?”
“Because you were about to find out your father had another child.”
Everything inside me stopped.
“What?”
Daniel continued.
“Robert Cross had a daughter.”
Martin closed his eyes.
He knew.
I stared at him.
Daniel said:
“And Evelyn has spent fourteen years making sure you never meet her.”
I looked around.
Martin.
Rebecca.
Marcus.
Clara.
My father’s hidden photograph.
Samuel’s letter.
Then Daniel said one final sentence.
“Nathaniel, she’s already in the church with you.”
May you like
Every eye moved.
And slowly, impossibly, Martin looked at Clara Bennett.
