Chapter 7 - THE FILE BURIED FOR TWENTY-TWO YEARS
Henry Dalton’s car was found at the bottom of a wooded ravine outside Annapolis.
The windshield was shattered.
The driver’s door was open.
There was blood on the steering wheel.
There was no sign of Henry.
Police classified the case as a possible accident until Eleanor informed them about the call.
By then, the Mercer file Henry mentioned had disappeared from his office.
Richard returned to Whitmore House before midnight.
He acted surprised when Caroline told him about Henry.
“That is terrible.”
His sympathy was perfect.
Too perfect.
Eleanor watched from the bottom of the staircase.
“When did you last speak to him?” she asked.
Richard removed his coat.
“Several months ago.”
“Not yesterday?”
“No.”
“Not after Dr. Larkin contacted Graham Pike?”
Richard looked at her.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Caroline stepped between them.
“Mother, stop.”
Eleanor was surprised.
Caroline’s voice carried anger.
Then she saw Richard watching.
Caroline was performing.
She had finally learned.
“Stop accusing him of everything,” Caroline continued. “Henry drove too fast. Everyone knew that.”
Richard touched her shoulder.
“You should rest.”
“I’m tired of resting.”
“You’ve had a difficult day.”
She allowed him to guide her upstairs.
As they passed Eleanor, Caroline let a folded piece of paper fall from her sleeve.
Eleanor waited until Richard disappeared before picking it up.
The message contained six words.
He has Henry’s office key.
At two in the morning, Eleanor entered Richard’s private office.
Agent Reed had remotely disabled the hallway camera for ninety seconds.
The office smelled of cedar and expensive tobacco.
Eleanor opened the desk drawers.
Receipts.
Foundation reports.
Property files.
Nothing connected to Henry.
Then she noticed a faint scratch around the bottom drawer’s keyhole.
It had been opened recently.
Eleanor inserted the key Caroline had taken from Richard’s coat.
The drawer contained a small metal box.
Inside were passports under multiple names, bundles of currency, and a photograph of Thomas Mercer holding a baby.
On the back, someone had written:
For Richard. When the Whitmores are finally destroyed, remember why.
Eleanor turned the photograph over again.
The date was thirty-one years earlier.
Richard was not a baby then.
He would have been ten.
The infant in Thomas Mercer’s arms was someone else.
Beneath the photograph lay a letter.
Eleanor unfolded it.
My son,
You have been told that revenge is our purpose. It is not. Revenge is only the door. What lies behind it belongs to you by blood.
Eleanor heard footsteps outside the office.
She returned the letter to the box, but kept the photograph.
The handle turned.
There was nowhere to hide except behind the heavy curtain beside the window.
Eleanor slipped behind it as Richard entered.
He was speaking on the phone.
“Henry found the audit ledger.”
A pause.
“No, the agents do not have it.”
Another pause.
“Because I handled it.”
Eleanor held her breath.
Richard crossed the room.
“I told you Eleanor was pretending. The evaluation did not break her.”
He opened the locked drawer.
Silence.
Eleanor knew what he had discovered.
The missing photograph.
Richard closed the drawer slowly.
“Someone has been in my office.”
He ended the call.
For several seconds, he did not move.
Then he walked toward the curtain.
Eleanor’s heart hammered.
His shoes stopped inches away.
The fabric shifted as he raised his hand.
Before he could pull it aside, the fire alarm erupted downstairs.
Richard cursed and ran from the room.
Agent Reed’s voice whispered through Eleanor’s earpiece.
“You have twenty seconds.”
Eleanor emerged and hurried into the hallway.
Marian waited at the servants’ staircase.
“You took too long.”
“I found this.”
They descended to the pantry.
Eleanor handed Marian the photograph.
Marian examined the date.
“Who is the baby?”
“I don’t know.”
“Richard?”
“He was already ten years old.”
“Then Thomas Mercer had another child.”
From upstairs, Richard shouted Eleanor’s name.
The fire alarm stopped.
They returned to Eleanor’s room through the hidden passage.
Richard entered seconds later.
“Where were you?”
Eleanor sat in bed.
“Sleeping.”
“The alarm was loud enough to wake the dead.”
“What alarm?”
He stared at her.
She allowed confusion to soften her face.
“Richard, why are you in my room?”
For a moment, doubt entered his expression.
Then he noticed mud on the bottom of her slipper.
The same dark soil that filled the planter outside his office window.
He stepped closer.
“You went into my office.”
“I have been in bed.”
“Where is the photograph?”
“What photograph?”
He seized her wrist.
“Give it to me.”
Eleanor cried out loudly.
Marian rushed in.
Richard released her at once.
“She was trying to hit me.”
Marian looked at the red marks on Eleanor’s wrist.
“With which hand?”
Richard said nothing.
Marian moved between them.
“You need to leave.”
“This is my house.”
“No. It is her house.”
His eyes settled on Eleanor.
“Not for much longer.”
After he left, Marian locked the door.
Eleanor took the photograph from inside her pillowcase.
On the back, beneath the handwritten message, she noticed an embossed mark she had missed.
May you like
It was the seal of St. Catherine’s Home for Children.
The same orphanage where Eleanor’s late husband had spent the first four years of his life.
