Chapter 13 - Grandmother)
Daniel called Eleanor.
No answer.
Again.
No answer.
He called the federal detail protecting Emma.
An agent answered.
“Mercer.”
“Where’s my daughter?”
“With Mrs. Pierce in the residence.”
“Put eyes on Emma now.”
A pause.
“Sir?”
“Now.”
Footsteps.
Then confusion.
“Mr. Mercer…”
Daniel’s blood turned cold.
“What?”
“They’re not in the living room.”
“Check the bedroom.”
More footsteps.
A door opened.
“Empty.”
Daniel stood frozen in Katherine’s hospital room.
“Find them.”
Naomi was already calling the field supervisor.
“Lock down the property.”
The agent spoke again.
“The rear security door is open.”
Daniel nearly dropped the phone.
His mind filled with images.
Emma in the wall.
Emma in Pike’s grip.
Rachel’s warning.
He turned toward Katherine.
“You said Charles named Eleanor.”
“He suspected her.”
“Why?”
“Because Eleanor knew about Haven before Rachel did.”
Daniel stared.
Katherine continued.
“Her husband, Rachel’s father, represented several Haven clients as an attorney.”
Daniel barely remembered Robert Pierce.
He died before Daniel and Rachel married.
“Was Eleanor part of it?”
“I don’t know.”
“You just told me my father named her.”
“He was dying. He suspected everyone.”
Daniel ran for the door.
Naomi followed.
They drove toward the secure residence.
Halfway there, Daniel’s phone rang.
Eleanor.
He answered.
“Where is Emma?”
“Safe.”
His hand tightened.
“Put her on.”
“Daniel, listen.”
“Put Emma on the phone.”
A pause.
Then:
“Daddy?”
Daniel nearly collapsed from relief.
“Emma. Are you okay?”
“Yes.”
“Where are you?”
“With Grandma.”
“Where?”
Eleanor returned to the phone.
“I needed to get her away before they moved against the house.”
Daniel stared ahead.
“What are you talking about?”
“You think Colby died by coincidence?”
“No.”
“Then stop treating federal buildings like fortresses.”
Naomi heard through speakerphone.
“Mrs. Pierce, this is Assistant U.S. Attorney Price. You need to tell us your location.”
Eleanor laughed softly.
“I’m sure you’re competent, Ms. Price. Competence is not the issue.”
Daniel’s voice hardened.
“Did you work for Haven?”
Silence.
Then Eleanor said, “Not willingly.”
Daniel closed his eyes.
Another lie.
Another secret.
“Explain.”
“My husband represented Charles Mercer long before you knew Rachel. Through him, I learned what Haven was.”
“You never told Rachel?”
“I tried to keep her away from it.”
“Did you help Rachel investigate?”
“Yes.”
“Did you know Thomas was alive?”
“Yes.”
Daniel pressed his fingers against his forehead.
“Did everyone know except me?”
“Almost.”
The answer hurt because it was probably true.
“Where are you taking Emma?”
“To someone who can end this.”
“Who?”
A long pause.
Then:
“Thomas.”
Daniel’s heart stopped.
“You know where he is.”
“I know how to reach him.”
“Why now?”
“Because Colby’s death means the controller knows Rachel’s archive is active again.”
Daniel looked at Naomi.
“And you expect me to trust you?”
“No.”
Eleanor’s voice softened.
“I expect you to love Emma enough to follow instructions.”
Daniel laughed without humor.
“That sounds exactly like Haven.”
“It does.”
Silence.
Then Eleanor gave him an address.
A closed marina outside Portsmouth.
“Come alone.”
Naomi shook her head.
Daniel ignored her.
“If Emma is hurt…”
“She is my granddaughter.”
“That hasn’t stopped anyone in this family from using children as leverage.”
Eleanor was quiet.
“You’re right.”
The line disconnected.
At the marina, Daniel found Eleanor standing beside an old sailboat.
Emma ran to him.
He dropped to his knees and held her.
“Never do that again.”
Emma whispered, “Grandma said bad people were coming.”
Daniel looked at Eleanor.
“You could have told me.”
“I did not know which federal channel was compromised.”
“Naomi isn’t.”
“You don’t know that.”
Daniel stood.
“I do.”
“That certainty is why Rachel kept secrets.”
Daniel flinched.
Eleanor regretted it.
Before either could speak, a cabin light flickered on inside the sailboat.
A man stepped onto the deck.
Daniel forgot how to breathe.
Thomas Mercer looked older.
Lean.
Bearded.
A scar ran from his temple to his cheek.
But there was no mistaking him.
Daniel stared at the brother whose ashes he had scattered into the Atlantic.
Thomas stared back.
Then said quietly:
“Hey, Danny.”
Daniel crossed the distance and punched him.
Thomas fell against the railing.
Emma gasped.
Eleanor shouted.
Daniel grabbed his brother by the jacket.
“You let me bury you.”
Thomas did not fight back.
“You let me stand at your funeral.”
“I know.”
“You let me think you were dead.”
“I know.”
Daniel hit him again.
Thomas caught his wrist this time.
“Enough.”
Daniel’s eyes burned.
“Rachel died protecting you.”
Thomas’s expression broke.
“Yes.”
That single word ended Daniel’s rage.
He released him.
Thomas leaned against the railing.
“I’ve spent two years trying to find the person who ordered it.”
“Did you?”
Thomas looked toward Emma.
Then back at Daniel.
“Yes.”
Daniel stepped closer.
“Who?”
Thomas reached into his coat and pulled out a photograph.
He handed it over.
Daniel stared.
The photograph was taken outside St. Augustine’s Church on Daniel’s wedding day.
A woman stood among the guests.
Dark coat.
Silver hair.
Daniel recognized her immediately.
Celeste Moore.
His wedding coordinator.
His friend for sixteen years.
The woman who had been beside him when he found Emma behind the painting.
May you like
Thomas said:
“Her real name isn’t Celeste Moore.”
