Chapter 3 - The Truth Emily Was Chasing
Dad did not open the door immediately.
Instead, he walked to the living-room window and carefully moved the curtain.
A gray pickup sat at the edge of the driveway.
One man stood on the porch.
The same man from Emily’s photograph.
Victor Hale.
“Should we call the police?” I whispered.
Dad shook his head.
“Not yet.”
“You keep saying that.”
“And you keep assuming the police know who the good guys are.”
“That sounds insane.”
“It sounded insane twenty-five years ago too.”
Victor knocked again.
“Thomas, I know Daniel is there.”
My skin went cold.
“How?”
Dad remained silent.
Victor spoke through the door.
“Emily sent him to you, didn’t she?”
I crossed the room.
Dad grabbed my arm.
“Wait.”
“For what?”
“To decide whether opening that door gets us killed.”
Victor apparently heard us.
“If I wanted either of you dead, Thomas, I wouldn’t knock.”
Dad almost laughed.
“That’s exactly what a man planning murder would say.”
“Fair point.”
Despite everything, Victor’s voice sounded tired rather than threatening.
Dad eventually opened the door with the chain still attached.
Victor stood beneath the porch light.
He looked older than in Emily’s photograph.
Gray hair.
Dark jacket.
Scar above the eyebrow.
His eyes moved immediately to me.
“You look like Elaine.”
I hated how much those four words affected me.
“You spoke to Emily.”
“Yes.”
“Where is she?”
Victor’s expression changed.
“I was hoping you knew.”
I stepped forward.
Dad blocked me.
“Let him inside,” I said.
“Daniel.”
“Emily trusted him enough to contact him.”
“That doesn’t mean we should.”
Victor sighed.
“Thomas, Charles Mercer knows she found the ledger.”
Dad’s face hardened.
That settled it.
He opened the door.
Victor entered.
For the next hour, my understanding of Emily’s disappearance changed completely.
Six months earlier, Victor had mailed Emily copies of her father’s old company records.
He chose Emily because Richard Carter had hidden one final ledger before his death.
Victor believed Richard had left clues for his daughter.
Emily initially accused Victor of abandoning her family.
“I deserved that,” Victor said.
He explained that Richard’s death terrified him.
Victor had received photographs of his own children along with a warning.
He disappeared to protect them.
For twenty-five years, he quietly tracked Charles Mercer’s financial network.
“Why didn’t you go to the FBI?”
“I did.”
“What happened?”
“One investigation disappeared.”
“That’s convenient.”
“You think I don’t know that?”
Victor leaned toward me.
“Daniel, organizations like this survive because they don’t need everyone to be corrupt. They need one attorney. One investigator. One banker. One person willing to lose paperwork at the right moment.”
Emily had discovered that Richard hid the original ledger somewhere Charles could not easily find.
Victor believed Elaine Mercer knew the location.
But Elaine died before telling anyone.
“So Emily started investigating my mother.”
“Yes.”
“And she found me.”
Victor nodded.
“She discovered something neither of us expected.”
He opened a folder.
Inside were photocopies of hospital records.
My hospital records.
August 14, 1994.
The date Emily wrote behind the photograph.
I had been seven years old.
According to the documents, my mother brought me to St. Matthew’s Hospital after a car accident.
Nothing serious.
Minor bruises.
But someone else was brought to the same emergency room.
Richard Carter.
Emily’s father.
He was officially pronounced dead from cardiac arrest hours later.
Victor slid over another paper.
A nurse’s handwritten note.
Before Richard lost consciousness, he had repeatedly asked for Elaine Mercer.
My mother.
“They met that night,” Victor said.
“For what?”
“We think Richard gave her the ledger.”
I stared at Dad.
“You knew Mom went to the hospital?”
“No.”
Victor continued.
“The next morning Elaine took Daniel and disappeared for almost three weeks.”
Dad slowly nodded.
“She said Charles threatened her.”
“Where did you go?” I asked.
“A cabin near Hocking Hills.”
“Did Mom have anything with her?”
“A suitcase.”
“Documents?”
“I don’t know.”
Victor pulled out another photograph.
It showed my mother standing outside that cabin.
Seven-year-old me was beside her.
I remembered none of it.
“Emily found this two months ago.”
“How?”
“Your mother had mailed copies to Richard’s attorney.”
Then Victor said the part that mattered.
“Emily believed you remembered something.”
“I was seven.”
“Children remember strange details.”
“What detail?”
“A hiding place.”
According to Emily’s notes, I had once told her a childhood story.
I vaguely remembered it.
I was about ten when I told her.
Long before we dated.
A silly story about my mother giving me a metal box and telling me it contained “dragon treasure.”
I had buried it somewhere.
I laughed when Emily reminded me years later.
But now nobody laughed.
“Where did you bury it?” Victor asked.
“I don’t remember.”
Dad suddenly looked up.
“Yes, you do.”
I stared at him.
“What?”
“You used to talk about a stone bridge.”
My memory flickered.
Trees.
Mud.
A creek.
My mother holding my hand.
A small red metal box.
Dragon treasure.
I felt dizzy.
“The cabin.”
Victor stood.
“If Elaine hid Richard’s ledger, it may still be there.”
Then my phone rang.
Unknown number.
All three men stared at it.
I answered.
“Hello?”
Nothing.
Then breathing.
“Emily?”
A whisper.
“Dan?”
I nearly collapsed.
“Emily!”
Victor reached for the phone. I moved away.
“Where are you?”
“I can’t talk long.”
Her voice sounded exhausted.
“Are you safe?”
“For now.”
“Where?”
“Dan, listen.”
“No. Tell me where you are.”
“You found the bag?”
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Stop apologizing.”
My voice broke.
“Come home.”
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
“Because Charles knows I found the ledger trail.”
Victor mouthed: Ask where she is.
I ignored him.
“Emily, we can protect you.”
“No.”
“You don’t get to decide that alone.”
Silence.
Then she whispered:
“I thought I could finish this without involving you.”
“You disappeared without saying goodbye.”
“I was trying to keep you alive.”
“And you think this feels like living?”
She began crying quietly.
I closed my eyes.
For three days I had imagined every possible ending.
Hearing her voice was almost painful.
“Where are you?”
“A motel outside Cincinnati.”
“Which motel?”
She hesitated.
Then said:
“Riverside Motor Lodge. Room twelve.”
Victor immediately stood.
“We leave now.”
Emily continued.
“Dan, don’t come.”
“Too late.”
“There’s something else.”
“What?”
“The final file on the flash drive.”
“I saw it.”
“No. There’s another layer. Password protected.”
“What password?”
“Your mother’s birthday.”
I knew it.
March 11.
“What’s inside?”
Emily inhaled.
“Proof that Charles Mercer wasn’t only watching us.”
My chest tightened.
“He was watching someone else?”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
A noise exploded through the phone.
A door opening.
Emily gasped.
“Emily?”
Footsteps.
Then her terrified whisper:
May you like
“Dan…”
The call disconnected.
