Chapter 7 - THE PHOTOGRAPH
For several seconds, I couldn’t understand what I was looking at.
Claire.
Alive.
Older.
Thinner.
Her dark hair cut short.
But unmistakably Claire.
And Lily was standing beside her.
The photograph had to be fake.
Lily was safe with Maria.
I called immediately.
Maria answered on the first ring.
“Mr. Mercer?”
“Where is Lily?”
“In the living room.”
“Put her on video.”
A second later, Lily’s face appeared.
“Daddy?”
I exhaled.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes.”
“Stay with Maria.”
“Are you coming?”
“Soon.”
I ended the call.
Daniel studied the photograph.
“They manipulated it.”
“Maybe.”
“Obviously.”
Then I zoomed in.
Lily was wearing a yellow jacket.
I had bought that jacket two months ago.
But Claire’s photograph was supposedly taken yesterday.
Someone had access to recent pictures of Lily.
Or someone had been close enough to see her.
Daniel pointed toward the newspaper.
“Could be staged.”
Vanessa stared over my shoulder.
Then whispered, “That’s her.”
I turned.
“You’re sure?”
“She looks older, but yes.”
“Where would she be?”
“I don’t know.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Because I don’t!”
I showed her the address.
She went pale.
“What?”
“That’s an old Mercer property.”
“Where?”
“Outside Albany.”
“Owned by who?”
“Technically? A shell company.”
Daniel looked at me.
“We involve federal law enforcement.”
I agreed.
Not local police.
Daniel contacted an FBI agent he knew through corporate investigations.
Special Agent Rachel Kim arrived two hours later with a small team.
I showed her the videos.
The financial records.
Claire’s letter.
The photograph.
She listened without interruption.
Then she said, “Nobody goes to that property until we know what we’re walking into.”
“That’s my wife.”
“Possibly.”
“She’s alive.”
“Possibly.”
I hated that word.
Rachel continued.
“If this organization existed for over a decade, we assume surveillance, armed personnel, compromised law enforcement, and financial resources.”
Vanessa laughed softly.
Rachel looked at her.
“What?”
“You don’t understand William.”
“Help me.”
Vanessa looked toward the window.
“He doesn’t threaten people.”
“What does he do?”
“He gives them choices.”
“What kind?”
“Lose your job or move money. Lose your home or sign a document. Lose your family or keep quiet.”
Rachel nodded.
“And what choice did he give you?”
Vanessa’s jaw tightened.
“I already told Adrian.”
“No. You told Adrian you were scared.”
Rachel leaned forward.
“I’m asking what William had on you.”
Vanessa didn’t answer.
Rachel waited.
Finally, Vanessa whispered, “My brother.”
I frowned.
“You told me you didn’t have a brother.”
“He died.”
“When?”
“Two years before we met.”
“How?”
“Overdose.”
Rachel watched her closely.
Vanessa shook her head.
“It wasn’t an overdose.”
“William killed him?”
“I don’t know.”
“But you think so.”
“He sent me a photograph of Michael after he died.”
My anger shifted.
Not gone.
Never gone.
But something about Vanessa’s fear suddenly made more sense.
“Why?”
“Because Michael had discovered one of the accounts.”
Rachel said, “And William used his death to control you.”
Vanessa nodded.
Then my phone rang.
Unknown caller.
Rachel raised one finger.
“Speaker.”
I answered.
Silence.
Then a woman spoke.
“Adrian?”
My whole body stopped.
I knew that voice.
I had heard it in dreams for four years.
“Claire?”
A breath.
Then crying.
“Oh my God.”
I stood so fast the chair fell.
“Claire, where are you?”
“I can’t tell you.”
“You’re alive.”
“Yes.”
“Where have you been?”
“There isn’t time.”
“Claire—”
“Listen to me.”
Her voice sharpened.
“Do not go to the Albany property.”
I looked at Rachel.
“Why?”
“It’s a trap.”
“How do you know?”
Silence.
Then Claire whispered:
May you like
“Because William is sitting ten feet away from me.”
The call ended.
