Chapter 3 - The Boy in the Window
By dawn, the city had decided Alex Mercer was a monster.
Television anchors replayed the altered video. Commentators discussed his history of ruthless business decisions. Former employees appeared to describe his temper. The Mercer Foundation suspended its charity work. Protesters gathered outside the hospital, unaware Mariana was registered under a false name on another floor.
Eleanor Mercer gave a statement from the steps of the family residence.
“My son is under extraordinary pressure,” she said, dressed in black with a white scarf at her throat. “Our family asks for compassion while he receives the help he needs.”
She did not mention Mariana.
She did not mention Gabriel.
At 7:15 a.m., Alex entered the Mercer boardroom through a private service elevator. Daniel and Samuel followed. Mariana remained at the hospital with two guards Daniel trusted personally.
Twelve directors sat around the long walnut table. Eleanor occupied the chair at the opposite end.
“You look tired,” she said.
“You look prepared.”
“I had fifteen years.”
The answer was so quiet that only Alex heard it.
He stopped halfway to his seat.
Eleanor smiled for the room.
“The board has received evidence of erratic behavior, coercion, and financial instability. For the protection of the company, I have proposed a temporary transfer of voting authority.”
“To you.”
“To an independent trust.”
Samuel placed the birth certificate, death certificate, and hospital photograph on the table.
“To the same trust that paid St. Orison House?” he asked.
Eleanor’s smile disappeared.
Several directors leaned forward.
Alex watched his mother carefully.
She did not look at the documents. She looked at Samuel.
“You are trespassing,” she said.
“I was invited by the controlling shareholder.”
“That status is being reviewed.”
Alex placed both palms on the table.
“Was my son born alive?”
No one moved.
Eleanor looked at him with something close to pity.
“Yes.”
The single word broke the room apart.
A director gasped. Another began typing rapidly on his phone. Daniel quietly locked the doors.
Alex’s voice shook.
“Did he die?”
Eleanor folded her hands.
“The infant born to Mariana died.”
“That was not my question.”
“It is the only answer you are prepared to understand.”
Alex swept a glass from the table. It shattered against the wall.
For the first time, Eleanor flinched.
Samuel slid the enlarged image from the overpass across the table. The boy’s face was grainy but visible.
“Who is he?” Alex demanded.
Eleanor looked at the photograph.
Her control returned.
“A patient.”
“At a school that has been closed six years?”
“A troubled young man who has been exploited by Mariana.”
Alex felt rage rise, but Samuel touched his arm.
The investigator turned to the directors.
“Last night I sent each of you a forensic report. It documents twenty-three million dollars moved from Mercer charitable accounts into entities associated with St. Orison House. Anyone voting today without disclosing knowledge of those transfers may expose themselves to criminal liability.”
Phones began to vibrate around the table.
Eleanor remained still.
“You believe money will frighten them?” she asked.
“No,” Samuel replied. “Prison will.”
The vote was postponed.
Eleanor rose.
As she passed Alex, she whispered, “That boy is alive because I made choices you were too weak to make.”
Alex caught her wrist.
“What choices?”
She looked down at his hand until he released her.
“Ask Mariana why your son was born with blood in his lungs.”
Then she left.
Two hours later, Alex returned to the hospital.
Mariana was gone.
Her guards lay unconscious in the corridor. No alarms had sounded. The security cameras showed an orderly pushing Mariana’s wheelchair toward a staff elevator. The orderly’s face was hidden beneath a surgical mask.
But the badge on his chest read Leonard Vale.
On Mariana’s pillow lay the brass key and a folded sheet of paper.
Alex opened it.
The handwriting was hers, uneven and hurried.
They know Gabriel called you. Do not follow me. Find the music box before your mother does. The truth is not inside St. Orison. It is beneath it.
Daniel entered carrying a clear evidence bag.
“This was found in the stairwell.”
Inside was a cheap prepaid phone.
The call history showed one outgoing number: Alex’s private line.
There was also a saved audio file.
Alex pressed play.
A boy spoke in a whisper.
“My name is not Gabriel here. They call me Simon. I found a room under the chapel. There are files for eleven children. All of us were declared dead.”
Paper rustled.
“If you are my father, come alone. If you bring police, they will move us again.”
A second voice entered the recording.
Mariana’s voice.
Not from the present. Younger. Terrified.
“Alex, if you ever hear this, forgive me. I signed their papers because they put our baby in my arms and told me they would stop his oxygen.”
The recording ended with the sound of a newborn crying.
Alex pressed play again.
This time he heard something beneath the crying.
May you like
A man humming.
A melody his father used to hum when Alex was a child.
