Chapter 4 - THE WOMAN WHO WAS SUPPOSED TO BE DEADHannah Mercer was alive.
That should have been the only thing that mattered.
Grace was holding her sister again.
My daughters were upstairs, finally speaking.
And I had just been handed the first real evidence that Isabelle's murder had been planned by someone close to me.
But the moment Hannah said Vincent was coming back, everything changed.
“How long do we have?” I asked.
“I don't know.”
“Who brought you here?”
“A driver.”
“Name?”
“I never saw his face.”
“Where did he pick you up?”
She hesitated.
“An apartment in Queens.”
I studied her.
“You were being held?”
“Yes.”
“For fourteen months?”
She shook her head.
“Not in the same place.”
Grace pulled back.
“Hannah, what happened to you?”
Her sister looked at her.
Something terrible moved across her face.
“They told me you were dead.”
Grace stopped breathing.
“What?”
“They showed me pictures.”
I felt my stomach turn.
“Pictures of what?”
“A burned apartment. A body. Your identification.”
Grace shook her head.
“No.”
Hannah touched her cheek.
“I thought I'd lost you.”
For a moment, the two women simply held each other.
I looked toward the staircase.
“Marco.”
He appeared almost immediately.
“Sir.”
“Lock down the property. Nobody enters without my authorization. Nobody leaves until I've spoken to them.”
His expression sharpened.
“Threat?”
“Yes.”
“How serious?”
I looked at Hannah.
“Family.”
He understood.
Within seconds, his radio was alive with quiet instructions.
I led Hannah and Grace into the library.
Closed the door.
Then placed the photograph on the table.
Hannah stared at it.
“Where did you find that?”
“Isabelle's dressing room.”
Her face changed.
“She kept it.”
“You knew?”
Hannah nodded.
“I took it.”
“Why?”
“Because Vincent didn't realize he was in the frame.”
I sat opposite her.
“Start from the beginning.”
She folded her hands.
For several seconds, she stared at the floor.
Then she began.
“Your wife contacted my company seventeen months ago. She wanted an independent review of the foundation's finances.”
“What did she suspect?”
“At first, simple theft.”
“How much?”
“Nearly four million dollars.”
I felt my jaw tighten.
“Four million?”
Hannah nodded.
“Money supposedly distributed to children's programs never reached the listed organizations.”
“Who approved the payments?”
“Your brother.”
I stared at her.
“And Anthony?”
“He created the entities.”
I looked toward Isabelle's photograph.
She was smiling.
Always smiling.
How much had she carried alone?
Hannah continued.
“We found shell companies, false invoices, and payments connected to overseas accounts.”
I held up my hand.
“Why didn't Isabelle tell me?”
Hannah looked uncomfortable.
“She said you trusted Vincent more than anyone.”
I didn't answer.
“She also said she was afraid you would kill him.”
The words landed harder than I expected.
Grace looked at me.
I looked away.
Isabelle had known me.
She had known exactly what finding out would do.
Hannah continued.
“She wanted to gather evidence. Then she planned to confront Vincent with you present and insist he return the money.”
“That's what she told you?”
“At first.”
“And later?”
Hannah swallowed.
“We found something worse.”
I waited.
“Payments to a private security contractor. The same contractor used by the two men identified in her murder.”
The room seemed to contract.
“Who hired them?”
“We couldn't prove it.”
“But?”
“Anthony's office paid their invoices.”
I leaned back.
My attorney.
My brother.
The two men I had trusted to find Isabelle's killers.
They had controlled the investigation from the beginning.
“What happened that Wednesday?”
Hannah's fingers began trembling.
“Isabelle called me at eight fifteen. She said she'd found something in Vincent's office.”
“What?”
“A ledger.”
“Where is it?”
“I don't know.”
She looked toward the door.
“She told me to meet her at the preschool. She said she couldn't keep it in the house because somebody had been searching her room.”
I thought about the damaged lock.
The hidden compartment.
The butterflies.
“Did she tell you what was in the ledger?”
“Names.”
“What names?”
“People receiving money from the foundation.”
I waited.
Hannah looked directly at me.
“People inside your organization.”
I felt my expression harden.
“Which people?”
“I never saw the complete list.”
“Why not?”
“Because Vincent arrived.”
She closed her eyes.
“I was standing near the parking lot. Isabelle had just dropped the children at the entrance.”
I pictured the scene.
Autumn leaves.
Small backpacks.
My wife waving goodbye.
“Vincent pulled up in a black Cadillac,” Hannah continued. “He got out and started arguing with her.”
“About the ledger?”
“Yes.”
“What did he say?”
“He told her she had no idea what she'd uncovered.”
I leaned forward.
“And Isabelle?”
“She told him she had already made copies.”
I stopped.
“Copies?”
Hannah nodded.
“She said if anything happened to her, the truth would reach you.”
I glanced at the butterfly pendant.
Hannah noticed.
“What is that?”
“Something Isabelle gave Olivia.”
Hannah stared.
Then she whispered, “The butterflies.”
I looked up.
“You know?”
“Isabelle mentioned them.”
“What did she say?”
“That she was dividing something into three pieces.”
I felt my pulse rise.
“Three pieces of what?”
“She wouldn't tell me.”
Grace touched the pendant.
“Three daughters.”
Hannah nodded.
“She said no one would think to hurt the girls because they were too young to understand.”
I closed my eyes.
Isabelle had been wrong.
“What happened next?” I asked.
Hannah gripped her sister's hand.
“Vincent tried to take Isabelle's bag.”
I waited.
“She refused. He grabbed her wrist. She slapped him.”
I felt a terrible sense of recognition.
My wife had never been afraid to stand up to anyone.
Not even me.
“Then a second car arrived,” Hannah continued.
“Who was driving?”
“I couldn't see.”
“What happened?”
“Two men got out.”
My hands curled into fists.
“They had guns.”
Grace inhaled sharply.
“Isabelle saw them. She screamed at me to run.”
I stared at Hannah.
“Did you?”
“No.”
Her voice broke.
“I tried to help her.”
She looked down.
“One of them hit me. I fell. I heard gunshots.”
She began crying.
“Three. Maybe four.”
I could barely breathe.
“When I woke up, I was in a basement.”
“Whose basement?”
“I don't know.”
She wiped her face.
“A man told me Isabelle was dead. He said I was going to help them recover whatever she'd stolen.”
“The ledger.”
“Yes.”
“Did they find it?”
“No.”
I stared at the pendant.
“Why release you now?”
Hannah's face changed.
“They didn't release me.”
I leaned forward.
“What?”
“I escaped.”
“How?”
“A woman helped me.”
“Who?”
“I never learned her name.”
She pulled a folded piece of paper from her pocket.
“She gave me this.”
I opened it.
An address in Queens.
And beneath it, three words.
Trust the housekeeper.
Grace stared.
“Who wrote that?”
Hannah shook her head.
“I don't know.”
I looked at the handwriting.
Something about it was familiar.
Not Isabelle's.
Not Vincent's.
Then I remembered a note I had received at the hospital fourteen months earlier.
A short message left at the front desk.
Don't believe the first story they tell you.
I had assumed it came from a reporter.
I had thrown it away.
Now I wondered.
My phone rang.
Marco.
I answered.
“Talk.”
“We have a problem.”
“What?”
“The west gate camera went offline.”
I stood.
“Fix it.”
“Already sending a team.”
Another voice sounded through his radio.
Then silence.
“Marco?”
He returned.
“Sir, there's a vehicle approaching the service entrance.”
“Description?”
“Black SUV.”
“Plates?”
“Covered.”
I looked at Grace.
“Get the girls.”
She immediately moved.
I stopped her.
“Use the garden staircase. Not the main hall.”
She nodded.
Hannah stood.
“What's happening?”
I took the gun from my coat.
“Vincent.”
A loud crack echoed from somewhere beyond the library.
Then another.
Gunfire.
Grace froze at the door.
I pointed toward the staircase.
“Go!”
She ran.
I turned toward Marco.
“Where are they?”
“West garden. Four men confirmed.”
“Keep them away from the house.”
I looked toward the window.
Across the lawn, security lights flickered on.
A dark figure moved between the hedges.
Then another.
I heard a guard shout.
A gunshot answered.
Hannah grabbed my arm.
“Dominic.”
“What?”
“There's something else.”
I stared at her.
She was shaking.
“The man who kept me prisoner.”
“What about him?”
“He told me Vincent wasn't the one giving the orders.”
I felt cold spread through my chest.
“Who was?”
She opened her mouth.
Before she could answer, an explosion shook the west side of the mansion.
Glass shattered.
An alarm began screaming.
May you like
And upstairs, I heard Nora cry out.
“Daddy!”
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