Chapter 2 - The Name That Should Have Been Dead
Andrew Mercer had spent nine years learning how not to react.
Fear made people careless.
Anger made them predictable.
Grief made them weak.
Andrew had survived Brooklyn's criminal world by keeping all three emotions behind a face nobody could read.
But Daniel's name had cracked something open.
For nine years, Andrew had believed his younger brother was dead. No body had ever been recovered, but enough blood had been found in Daniel's abandoned car for police to tell the family survival was unlikely. Andrew had accepted a coffin with nothing inside because his mother couldn't bear the thought of having nowhere to mourn.
Now a seven-year-old girl had just told him Daniel was alive.
Or had been recently.
And someone across the street had arrived carrying proof that Ivy's missing mother was connected to whatever was happening.
"Behind me," Andrew said.
Ivy obeyed without argument.
That frightened him more than if she had screamed.
Children were supposed to argue.
They were supposed to ask why.
They were supposed to believe adults would protect them.
Ivy had already learned differently.
Marco returned from the edge of the sidewalk and saw the SUV.
"Plate's covered."
"I noticed."
"Want me to call the others?"
Andrew kept his eyes on the man holding the scarf.
"They're already coming."
The stranger was middle-aged, neat gray coat, no hat despite the drizzle.
He looked more like an attorney than a kidnapper.
That meant nothing.
Some of the worst people Andrew had ever met dressed beautifully.
The man lifted the yellow scarf.
"Mr. Mercer."
Andrew didn't answer.
"I believe I have something belonging to your new friend."
Ivy's hand squeezed his harder.
"Mommy wore that."
Andrew glanced down.
"Stay behind me."
The stranger smiled.
"Smart girl."
Andrew's eyes returned to him.
"Say another word to her."
The smile vanished.
The man understood the warning.
Good.
"Her mother is alive," he said.
"Where?"
"Safe."
"That's not a location."
"She'll remain safe if everyone behaves sensibly."
Andrew almost laughed.
The man had clearly researched him.
Not well enough.
"Who sent you?"
"No names."
"Then this conversation's over."
Andrew began turning away.
The stranger's confidence slipped.
"Daniel Mercer."
Andrew stopped.
Ivy felt his hand tighten.
The man continued.
"We know what the girl told you."
Andrew turned back slowly.
That told him several things.
The SUV hadn't followed Ivy by accident.
She had been watched.
Possibly since her mother disappeared.
Maybe longer.
And whoever was behind this knew Andrew's connection to Daniel.
"How?"
The stranger tilted his head.
"How what?"
"How did you know she found me?"
No answer.
Andrew looked at the storefront windows.
Reflections.
Pedestrians.
A delivery cyclist.
Two parked cars.
Someone had to be observing.
He spotted a man pretending to read his phone near a parking meter.
Another sitting inside a blue sedan.
Andrew didn't look twice.
"You're making a mistake," the stranger said.
"Most people tell me that right before they realize it was theirs."
The man reached inside his coat.
Marco shifted.
Andrew didn't.
The stranger removed a phone.
He held it up.
The screen showed a photograph.
Ivy gasped.
"Mommy!"
Andrew's entire focus narrowed.
The photograph showed a woman seated in a chair inside what appeared to be an old house.
No visible injuries.
Her wrists weren't tied.
But the terror in her face needed no explanation.
Behind her stood a man in a dark suit.
Only his torso was visible.
On a table beside her sat a white dress.
Not a bridal gown.
Something simpler.
Still unmistakable.
Andrew's stomach turned.
"What do you want?"
The stranger lowered the phone.
"You forget the name Daniel Mercer."
Andrew said nothing.
"You send the girl home."
"No."
"You keep your people away from Ashwood."
That answered another question.
Ashwood mattered.
The stranger continued.
"And tomorrow, the nurse signs what she's told to sign."
"Marries who?"
A pause.
"That isn't your concern."
"You crossed the entire city to show me a hostage and tell me my brother may be alive."
Andrew's voice remained calm.
"Everything became my concern."
The stranger's jaw tightened.
"You still have no proof Daniel is alive."
Ivy peeked around Andrew's coat.
"My mommy saw him."
The man looked at her.
Andrew stepped sideways, blocking the line of sight.
"I warned you."
"I wasn't speaking to—"
"You looked at her."
Andrew's tone became almost conversational.
"Don't do it again."
The stranger went quiet.
Andrew's phone vibrated.
A message from Marco's team.
Three cars approaching.
Another message followed.
Someone had checked Ivy's apartment.
The door had been forced recently.
Nothing visibly stolen.
Camera discovered in building hallway.
Andrew's anger sharpened.
They hadn't merely taken her mother.
They had been watching a seven-year-old hide alone.
"You've got thirty seconds," Andrew said.
"For what?"
"To tell whoever sent you that the deal changed."
"There is no deal."
"There is now."
Andrew reached inside his coat.
The stranger tensed.
Andrew pulled out the five-dollar bill.
He unfolded it.
On the back, beneath the damp crease, were words written in red.
The stranger saw them.
For the first time, true panic crossed his face.
That was all Andrew needed.
He turned the bill toward himself.
The writing was uneven.
Three lines.
ASHWOOD. 4TH FLOOR. ROOM 417.
Below it:
TRUST NO ONE IN BLUE.
Andrew glanced toward the nursing home's courier logo visible on the stranger's phone case.
Blue.
The stranger lunged.
He never reached Andrew.
Marco caught his wrist, twisted, and drove him against the SUV without striking him.
The younger bodyguard pulled Ivy farther back.
The SUV driver accelerated.
Tires squealed.
The rear door remained open for half a second as the vehicle shot into traffic.
Andrew saw someone sitting inside.
A man.
White hair.
Watching him calmly.
Then the door slammed shut.
"Follow them," Andrew ordered.
One of his cars arrived.
Two men jumped out.
"Don't lose that SUV."
They disappeared into traffic.
The stranger Marco had caught smiled despite his twisted arm.
"You think you've won something?"
Andrew folded the bill carefully.
"No."
"You have no idea what you've walked into."
"Neither do you."
The stranger laughed.
"You've spent nine years believing a lie."
Andrew felt the words land.
"What lie?"
"Ask yourself why your brother disappeared."
Andrew stepped closer.
"Tell me."
"Ask who benefited."
"Name."
The stranger's smile widened.
"You're looking in the wrong direction."
Marco checked the man's pockets.
Phone.
Wallet.
No identification.
A key.
One medical access card.
Ashwood Nursing Home.
Andrew took it.
The stranger's confidence cracked again.
"You can't go there."
"You just gave me a key."
"That card won't get you to the fourth floor."
"Then why are you worried?"
No answer.
Sirens sounded somewhere in the distance.
Not close yet.
Andrew looked at Marco.
"Move him."
"Where?"
"Somewhere warm."
Marco understood.
Not torture.
Andrew had rules.
People outside his organization liked to imagine otherwise.
Fear had always done more work for him than violence.
The stranger would sit comfortably in a locked room until he decided talking was better than silence.
Andrew turned toward Ivy.
She was staring at the white dress still frozen on the phone screen Marco held.
"Is that your mother?"
Ivy nodded.
Andrew crouched again.
"I'm going to find her."
"You promised."
"I remember."
"And Daniel?"
That name hurt every time.
"I'll find him too."
"Is he really your brother?"
Andrew paused.
"Yes."
"Then why didn't you know where he was?"
Children asked questions adults avoided.
Andrew glanced toward the wet street.
"Because someone wanted me to believe he was gone."
Ivy considered this.
"Did they lie?"
"Yes."
"Mom says lies get bigger if you don't stop them."
Andrew almost smiled.
"Your mom sounds smart."
"She is."
"Then we're going to listen to her."
He showed Ivy the writing on the money.
"Did your mother write this?"
"I don't know."
"Where did you get the bill?"
Ivy frowned.
"From Mommy's emergency jar."
"Where was the jar?"
"Kitchen cabinet."
"Was anything strange about it?"
She thought.
Then her eyes widened.
"It wasn't in the jar."
Andrew waited.
"It was on my pillow."
His pulse slowed.
"When?"
"The morning after Mommy disappeared."
Someone had entered the apartment.
Someone had left the bill deliberately.
Not for Andrew.
For Ivy.
A message from her mother?
Or someone helping her?
Andrew looked toward Marco.
Marco understood immediately.
"Could be a trap."
"Probably."
"You're still going?"
Andrew looked at the five-dollar bill.
Room 417.
Daniel might be behind that door.
After nine years.
After funerals.
After his mother's death.
After Andrew had blamed himself every morning since he was twenty-four.
"Yes."
Ivy touched his sleeve.
"Can I come?"
"No."
Her face fell.
"Why?"
"Because you're seven."
"I'm almost eight."
"Still no."
"You might need me."
Andrew looked at her.
"For what?"
"I know what Mommy looks like."
For the first time that night, Andrew actually smiled.
Small.
Brief.
But real.
"I think I can manage that part."
"Then where do I go?"
That question erased the smile.
Andrew realized the problem instantly.
She had no safe adult.
No parent.
No known relatives.
And whoever had taken her mother knew exactly where Ivy lived.
He stood.
"You're coming somewhere safe."
"With you?"
"For tonight."
"Is it scary?"
"My house?"
She nodded.
Andrew looked at Marco.
Marco shrugged.
"Depends who's asking."
Ivy frowned.
Andrew sighed.
"No. It's not scary."
"Do you have cereal?"
Andrew stared at her.
Marco turned away, shoulders shaking.
Andrew realized he hadn't bought cereal in years.
"I can get cereal."
"Chocolate?"
"Apparently."
Ivy finally allowed herself to breathe.
They moved toward the Mercedes.
Before Andrew opened the door, his phone rang.
One of the men following the SUV.
He answered.
"What?"
Static.
Then:
"We lost them."
Andrew's expression darkened.
"How?"
"They went through the Brooklyn-Battery Tunnel. Another SUV blocked us. Same make. Same plates. They planned the switch."
Andrew looked toward Ivy.
"Anything else?"
A pause.
"Yes."
"What?"
"We caught the original vehicle on traffic camera before it disappeared."
"And?"
"The man in the back seat."
Andrew's voice lowered.
"What about him?"
"I ran facial recognition through our archive."
Another pause.
Longer this time.
Andrew felt something cold settle in his chest.
"Say it."
The man on the phone did.
Andrew didn't respond.
Because the elderly man inside that SUV had a name Andrew knew.
A name he had trusted for twenty years.
A name that had stood beside him at Daniel's funeral.
Father Michael Reeves.
The priest who had told Andrew to accept that his brother was gone.
And if Father Reeves was involved, Daniel's disappearance hadn't begun at Ashwood.
May you like
It had begun inside Andrew's own family.
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