Chapter 10 - The Man at the Door
Eleanor did not scream.
Samuel did not move.
Rachel backed away.
Trent whispered, “What the hell?”
Mercer walked toward the porch.
The object in his hand remained low beside his leg.
Eleanor’s mind worked rapidly.
Front door.
Kitchen exit.
Garden gate.
Three adults and Rachel.
Mercer outside.
Possible cameras inside.
Samuel moved close enough to whisper.
“Kitchen.”
Trent heard.
“What’s happening?”
Eleanor almost laughed.
“You tell us.”
“I don’t know why Daniel has a gun.”
“Of course not.”
Mercer reached the porch.
He knocked.
Three slow knocks.
Nobody answered.
Then he called through the door.
“Trent.”
Trent’s expression changed.
Mercer knocked again.
“We need to go.”
Rachel looked at her husband.
“You know why he’s here.”
“No.”
“Trent.”
“I said no.”
Mercer’s voice became louder.
“Open the door.”
Samuel guided Eleanor backward.
“Kitchen.”
Rachel followed.
Trent stayed near the foyer.
Mercer knocked a third time.
“Trent, there isn’t much time.”
Trent looked toward the others.
Then he unlocked the door.
Rachel gasped.
“Don’t.”
Too late.
Mercer stepped inside.
The gun remained down.
Trent slammed the door behind him.
“What are you doing?”
Mercer looked at Eleanor.
Then Samuel.
His expression darkened.
“Why is he here?”
Samuel answered.
“Nice to see you too.”
Mercer raised the gun slightly.
Rachel whispered, “Oh my God.”
Mercer immediately looked at her.
“I am not here to hurt anyone.”
Eleanor stared at the weapon.
“You chose an unusual accessory for reassurance.”
Mercer glanced down.
Then removed the magazine.
He pulled back the slide.
Empty chamber.
He placed the weapon on the console.
Samuel still did not relax.
Mercer said, “Someone followed me.”
“Who?” Eleanor asked.
“I don’t know.”
Trent laughed nervously.
“This is insane.”
Mercer turned toward him.
“Where is the drive?”
Trent froze.
Rachel stared.
Eleanor watched everything.
“You know about it,” she said.
Mercer ignored her.
“Trent. Where is the drive?”
“I don’t have it.”
“Then who does?”
Nobody answered.
Mercer looked at Rachel.
She held his gaze.
Mercer swore under his breath.
“You took it.”
Rachel said nothing.
“You have no idea what you removed.”
“Everyone keeps telling me that.”
“Because it’s true.”
Eleanor stepped closer.
“Then explain.”
Mercer looked at her.
“That drive contains transaction records.”
“Garrison Equity?”
“Yes.”
“Trent’s transactions?”
Mercer hesitated.
“That is complicated.”
“People keep using that word when they mean they don’t want to answer me.”
Samuel said, “Daniel.”
Mercer looked at him.
Samuel continued.
“Peter contacted Marlow.”
Mercer went still.
“When?”
“Tonight.”
“What did he say?”
“He said not to trust you.”
Mercer laughed once.
Of all possible reactions, Eleanor had not expected that.
“Of course he did.”
“Why?”
“Because Peter thinks I betrayed Arthur.”
“Did you?”
Mercer looked at Eleanor.
“No.”
Samuel said, “Then who did?”
Mercer’s eyes moved toward Trent.
Trent’s face hardened.
“What are you looking at me for?”
Mercer said, “You really don’t know, do you?”
“Know what?”
“Why your father returned the money.”
The room went quiet.
Trent stared.
“My father never stole anything.”
Mercer almost looked sympathetic.
“Charles told you that?”
“He was cleared.”
“No.”
“He was never charged.”
“That’s not the same thing.”
Trent stepped forward.
Mercer did not move.
“My father built his company from nothing.”
“Your father used Arthur Whitmore’s company to move money.”
“You’re lying.”
“Two million dollars.”
“Shut up.”
“And when Arthur found out, Charles begged him not to go to the police.”
Trent’s face flushed.
“Shut up.”
Eleanor watched.
This was not rehearsed outrage.
Trent genuinely had not known.
Mercer continued.
“Arthur agreed on one condition.”
Samuel interrupted.
“Daniel.”
But Mercer ignored him.
“Charles had to return every dollar and surrender his ownership.”
Trent stared.
“My father sold his shares.”
“No. He forfeited them.”
“You’re lying.”
“Ask Samuel.”
Trent looked at the attorney.
Samuel’s silence confirmed it.
Something broke in Trent’s expression.
For years, perhaps his identity had been built around a family story that was false.
A successful father.
An unfair business loss.
Maybe even a belief that the Whitmores had stolen something from the Holloways.
Eleanor suddenly understood more.
“Is that why he hates us?”
Mercer looked at her.
“Partly.”
Rachel turned toward Trent.
“You knew our families were connected.”
Trent did not answer.
“You married me knowing?”
Still nothing.
Rachel’s face changed.
Not fear now.
Betrayal.
“You knew who Dad was.”
Trent snapped, “Of course I knew.”
The admission seemed to surprise even him.
Rachel backed away.
“When?”
“Before we met.”
Eleanor felt sick.
Rachel whispered, “Before?”
Trent rubbed both hands over his face.
“It wasn’t like that.”
“How was it?”
“My father talked about Arthur Whitmore for years.”
“And then you met me accidentally?”
“I did meet you accidentally.”
“Did you?”
“Yes.”
“Did you know who I was?”
Trent said nothing.
Rachel’s eyes filled.
“Did you know?”
“Yes.”
The word landed softly.
Devastatingly.
Rachel sat down on the staircase.
Eleanor wanted to hold her.
But Rachel kept staring at Trent.
“You married me because of Dad?”
“No.”
“Because of the trust?”
“No.”
“Then why did you hide this?”
“Because it didn’t matter.”
“It mattered enough for you to search my mother’s attic.”
Trent looked cornered.
Mercer said quietly, “He didn’t start searching until recently.”
Eleanor turned.
“How do you know?”
“Because somebody told him Schedule C still existed.”
“Who?”
Mercer looked toward the dark window.
The driveway was empty now.
No other vehicle.
Yet Mercer’s tension increased.
Samuel asked, “Daniel?”
Mercer stepped toward the foyer lights and switched them off.
“What are you doing?”
“Everyone away from the windows.”
Trent laughed.
“You’re paranoid.”
Mercer grabbed his arm.
“I was followed from Columbus.”
“By who?”
“I don’t know.”
A red point appeared on the wall.
Tiny.
Steady.
Eleanor saw it first.
“Down.”
Mercer shoved Rachel behind the staircase.
Samuel pulled Eleanor toward the floor.
The front window shattered.
Everyone screamed except Eleanor, who heard only the violent crack and the rain of glass.
Mercer crawled toward the console.
The unloaded gun was useless.
Another window broke.
Then silence.
Twenty seconds later, tires screamed outside.
Mercer rose slowly.
Samuel looked at the damaged window.
“What were they shooting at?”
Mercer stared toward the wall.
Not at any person.
At the brass plaque.
The bullet had struck inches beside it.
Mercer’s face went pale.
“They know.”
Eleanor stood.
“Know what?”
“That Arthur hid the archive here.”
Rachel stared toward the staircase.
“The attic.”
Mercer shook his head.
“No.”
He looked at the wooden cufflink box.
May you like
Then at the seven carved stars.
“The attic is only the map.”
