Chapter 7 - THE MAN BESIDE FRANK'S BED
Rachel reached St. Margaret before Damian.
She knew the building better.
She knew the service entrance.
She knew the elevator on the east side was faster than the main bank after lunch.
She also knew something was wrong the moment she reached her father's hallway.
Frank's door was nearly closed.
It was never nearly closed.
His nurses left it open because Frank hated feeling isolated.
Rachel walked faster.
“Dad?”
No answer.
She pushed the door open.
Mercer stood beside the bed.
He was not holding a weapon.
That frightened her more.
A syringe lay on Frank's bedside table.
Frank's eyes were open.
Terrified.
Mercer turned.
“You should not be here.”
Rachel stepped into the room.
“Neither should you.”
“Your father requires medication.”
“You're not his doctor.”
“No.”
Mercer's expression remained calm.
“But I was a doctor long before you were old enough to understand how complicated survival can become.”
Rachel moved between him and Frank.
“Leave.”
“You think Claire is the monster.”
“I think you both made choices.”
Something flashed in his eyes.
“Claire would be dead if not for me.”
“Maybe.”
“Isabel would be dead.”
“Maybe.”
“Sophie certainly would have belonged to Arturo.”
Rachel looked at him.
“And that makes everything after okay?”
“No.”
His answer surprised her.
Mercer glanced at Frank.
“Nothing makes everything after okay.”
Footsteps sounded in the hallway.
Damian entered first.
Leo behind him.
Mercer did not move.
Damian saw the syringe.
His face turned lethal.
“If that needle touched him—”
“It didn't.”
Frank made a sound.
Rachel looked back.
He shook his head.
Mercer was telling the truth.
Damian noticed too.
“Then why are you here?”
Mercer removed a small envelope from his coat.
“I came to get back what he took from the crash.”
“The watch?”
“No.”
Frank's hand moved beneath the blanket.
Rachel frowned.
“Dad?”
Frank slowly pulled out the red rosary bead.
Mercer stared at it.
“That.”
Damian laughed without humor.
“You risked everything for one bead?”
“One bead puts Arturo's car at the scene.”
“So does county footage.”
For the first time, Mercer looked genuinely surprised.
Damian watched him understand that the past had finally outrun him.
Leo took the syringe.
“Saline.”
Rachel looked at Mercer.
“You weren't going to kill him.”
“No.”
“Then what?”
“Convince him.”
Frank made an angry sound.
Mercer sighed.
“Your father has always been more stubborn than wise.”
Rachel stepped closer.
“That's still my father you're talking about.”
Mercer looked at her.
Then something strange happened.
His expression softened.
“I know.”
Rachel frowned.
Mercer looked at Frank.
“He refused Arturo's money at first.”
Rachel turned toward her father.
Frank's eyes filled.
“What?”
Mercer continued.
“Arturo had men visit him. Your mother was sick. The bills were enormous.”
Rachel whispered, “Dad said he took money.”
“He did.”
Mercer nodded.
“After he had already copied his original report and mailed it to the county investigator.”
Damian's eyes narrowed.
“What happened to it?”
“Arturo intercepted it.”
Frank hit the mattress weakly.
Mercer looked at him.
“You tried, Frank.”
Rachel's anger toward her father shifted.
Not disappeared.
Shifted.
“Why didn't you tell me?”
Frank struggled.
“Failed.”
Rachel's eyes filled.
“You thought failing made trying not count?”
Frank cried.
She sat beside him.
“You should have told me.”
He nodded.
That was the first repair.
Not forgiveness.
Truth.
Damian looked at Mercer.
“Why keep Isabel after my father died?”
Mercer glanced toward Claire, who had arrived behind Leo.
“Ask her.”
“I already did.”
“Then ask why she was terrified of Isabel coming home.”
Claire looked exhausted.
“Because I'd lose everyone.”
Mercer smiled faintly.
“Partly.”
Claire stared at him.
“What does that mean?”
Mercer looked at Damian.
“Your father didn't merely want Sophie because she was your child.”
Damian waited.
“He wanted Sophie because she was the one thing that could keep you from leaving the family.”
The room went quiet.
Mercer continued.
“Arturo knew you were planning to separate legitimate Marino Development from everything else.”
Damian remembered.
He had been.
Before Matthew died.
Before Sophie became his responsibility.
“He believed a child would anchor you.”
Rachel's expression hardened.
“He wanted to use a three-year-old to control his son.”
“Yes.”
Mercer spoke without pride.
Only tiredness.
“Arturo believed every person had a lever.”
Damian thought of Rachel's father.
Isabel.
Claire.
Himself.
“Sophie was mine.”
Mercer nodded.
“I knew from the hospital.”
Damian's hands curled.
“And you told Arturo.”
“Yes.”
Claire stared at Mercer with naked hatred.
“You said you didn't.”
“I lied.”
“You told me Dad found out another way.”
“I needed you cooperative.”
Claire suddenly looked very young.
For years she had believed she had made one mistake by trusting Mercer.
Now she learned that mistake had started everything.
She slapped him.
Hard.
Nobody stopped her.
Mercer touched his cheek.
“I deserved that.”
“No.”
Claire's voice broke.
“You deserve much more.”
“I probably do.”
Leo stepped forward.
“Then you're coming with us.”
Mercer looked at Damian.
“You don't want police involved.”
“Yesterday, maybe.”
Damian glanced at Rachel.
Something had changed.
“Today I am less interested in protecting the Marino name.”
Mercer smiled bitterly.
“Your father would hate that.”
“Good.”
As Leo escorted him toward the hall, Mercer stopped.
“There is something else you should know.”
Damian looked at him.
Mercer nodded toward Claire.
“She didn't decide to fake Isabel's death alone.”
Isabel stiffened.
“What?”
Mercer looked at her.
“You asked us to.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“I couldn't remember anything.”
“Not immediately.”
Mercer spoke carefully.
“You woke for six minutes the morning after the crash.”
Isabel's face went white.
“You remembered Sophie.”
She backed against the wall.
“You remembered Arturo.”
“No.”
“And you made Claire promise that no one would know you survived until Sophie was safe.”
Claire began crying.
Isabel stared at her.
“Is that true?”
Claire nodded.
“You begged me.”
Isabel sank into a chair.
Rachel watched another certainty collapse.
Claire had not invented the first lie.
But she had kept it alive long after the woman who requested it wanted it ended.
Mercer was led away.
Frank reached for Rachel.
She held his hand.
Damian stood near Isabel.
No one pretended the new information erased what Claire had done.
It only made the story human again.
Messy.
Complicated.
Terrible.
That evening, Sophie sat at the kitchen table drawing.
Rachel watched while Damian spoke quietly with Isabel nearby.
“What's that?” Rachel asked.
“A car.”
Sophie used a red crayon.
“And those?”
“Pretty beads.”
Rachel stopped.
“What beads?”
Sophie drew a red line of circles hanging from the front mirror.
“I saw them when I was little.”
Damian heard.
He came closer.
Sophie pointed to the picture.
“The bad car had them.”
The red rosary.
A three-year-old memory preserved as color and fear.
Damian crouched beside her.
“Sweetheart, do you remember who was driving?”
Sophie shook her head.
“No.”
Then she looked toward Isabel.
“But Mommy was yelling something.”
Isabel froze.
“What?”
Sophie frowned, concentrating.
“Not my baby.”
Claire closed her eyes.
Damian's face changed.
Because Sophie wasn't remembering Isabel shouting at Mercer.
She was remembering Arturo's voice from the roadside after the collision.
A voice Damian had not known was there.
Claire whispered, “Oh God.”
Damian turned.
“You told me Dad wasn't at the crash.”
Claire looked terrified.
“I thought he'd left before Sophie woke up.”
Isabel suddenly remembered.
Her hand flew to her mouth.
“He came to the window.”
Damian stared.
Isabel's face went gray.
“He looked at Sophie.”
Then at Damian.
“And he said something I haven't remembered in four years.”
“What?”
May you like
Tears filled her eyes.
“He said, ‘Take the mother. Leave the child. Damian will come home for his daughter.’”
