Chapter 6 - the death certificate that should not exist)
Evelyn Mercer had died on February 17, 1992.
At least according to the certificate.
Nora obtained a certified copy the next morning through a contact at the county archives.
Cause of death: traumatic injuries resulting from single-vehicle collision.
Location: Highway 14 near Ashford Bridge.
Time: 11:42 p.m.
Body identified by spouse.
Nora read that line twice.
“Spouse?”
Gerald sat across from her in his law office.
“Yes.”
“You said she worked for Dad.”
“She did.”
“You never said she was married.”
“I didn’t know.”
Nora looked at the certificate.
Spouse name: Daniel Mercer.
“You know him?”
“No.”
“Marcus?”
“Not that I recall.”
“Elaine?”
Gerald was silent.
“That means yes.”
“It means your mother knew many people I did not.”
Nora laughed without humor.
“You lawyers are exhausting.”
Gerald leaned back.
“I am attempting not to invent facts.”
“Fine. Fact. Someone withdrew money from Evelyn’s account eight months after she supposedly died.”
“Yes.”
“Fact. My father believed her death wasn’t accidental.”
“Yes.”
“Fact. My mother signed financial documents connected to Evelyn’s money.”
“Yes.”
“Fact. Dad transferred Hawthorne Ridge into a trust for me nineteen years ago.”
“Yes.”
“Why nineteen?”
Gerald looked toward the window.
“Because that was when Samuel received a letter.”
“What letter?”
“I never saw the original.”
“You prepared a multimillion-dollar trust because of a letter you never saw?”
“Samuel showed me part of it.”
“What part?”
Gerald opened his desk drawer.
He removed a photocopy.
The page contained only three handwritten sentences.
Samuel,
She is old enough now.
If Elaine ever tries to give the house to Marcus, you know what that means.
Do not let them find the lower room.
Nora read it.
“Who sent this?”
“No return address.”
“Handwriting?”
“Samuel said it was Evelyn’s.”
The room became very still.
“That letter arrived when I was fifteen.”
“Yes.”
“Evelyn had been dead thirteen years.”
“According to the certificate.”
Nora stood.
“Why didn’t Dad go to police?”
“He did.”
“What?”
“He took the letter to a detective named Warren Pike.”
“And?”
“Pike retired two weeks later.”
“Convenient.”
“He died six months after that.”
Nora stared at Gerald.
“How?”
“House fire.”
She said nothing.
Gerald continued.
“Samuel stopped asking public questions after Pike died.”
“Because he was afraid.”
“Because he had children.”
Nora walked to the window.
Below, downtown Bellweather moved normally.
Delivery trucks.
Pedestrians.
A woman pushing a stroller.
A man walking a terrier.
Nora hated the normality.
Her phone rang.
Marcus.
She almost ignored it.
Then remembered Brooke and Sophie.
She answered.
“What?”
“Nora.”
Marcus sounded different.
No anger.
No arrogance.
Fear.
“Where are you?”
“Gerald’s.”
“Do not go home.”
Nora turned toward Gerald.
“Why?”
“I went back this morning.”
“For what?”
“My clothes.”
“You don’t have clothes there.”
“My old stuff. Whatever. Listen to me.”
Something crashed behind Marcus.
He lowered his voice.
“The basement has been emptied.”
Nora stopped.
“What?”
“The cabinets are open. Files are gone.”
She grabbed her bag.
“Call police.”
“I already did.”
“And?”
“They’re here.”
“Then what are you afraid of?”
Marcus did not answer.
“Marcus.”
He whispered, “Because the cop who showed up is the buyer.”
Nora felt the blood leave her face.
“The buyer of what?”
“The house.”
Marcus breathed once.
“The company on the purchase agreement? I looked it up.”
May you like
“Yes?”
“It’s registered to Detective Warren Pike’s son.”
