Chapter 4 - The Man We BuriedThe man on the screen smiled as if he had just walked into the room.
My father.
Elliot Mercer.
Dead for six years.
I stared at his face while every rational thought I had left collapsed.
Claire's fingers tightened around my wrist.
“Daniel,” she whispered.
I couldn't answer.
The screen showed my father's familiar office: dark bookshelves, the green leather chair he always used, the brass lamp on the desk.
Behind him hung the oil painting of our family estate.
A room I knew better than my own.
My father's lips curved upward.
“Still surprised?”
I stepped toward the television.
“No.”
He laughed.
“You always hated surprises.”
“You're dead.”
“That was the idea.”
Lily looked at me.
“Daddy?”
I turned immediately.
“Don't look at the screen, sweetheart.”
“But that's Grandpa.”
My throat tightened.
“Yes.”
“Grandpa died.”
Claire pulled Lily closer.
“He isn't your grandfather anymore,” she whispered.
I looked at her.
“What does that mean?”
Claire's eyes never left the screen.
“It means we have to get out before he gets here.”
My father's voice came through the speakers again.
“Claire, you always were dramatic.”
She stood as much as the restraints would allow.
“You kept me here for eighteen months.”
“And you survived.”
“You kidnapped me.”
“I protected you.”
“You destroyed my life.”
My father sighed.
“Your definition of protection has always been inconveniently narrow.”
I stepped between Claire and the screen.
“Where are you?”
“Closer than you think.”
“Show yourself.”
“You've already seen me.”
“Then come here.”
He smiled.
“You aren't ready.”
I slammed my palm against the television.
The screen flickered.
Claire grabbed my arm.
“Daniel, stop.”
“Why?”
“Because that's what he wants.”
I looked at her.
“What does he want?”
Her eyes shifted toward Vanessa.
“She knows.”
Vanessa stood near the door, crying silently.
I pointed at her.
“Then tell me.”
She shook her head.
“Not here.”
“I'm done hearing that.”
“Daniel—”
“No. You're going to tell me everything.”
Vanessa looked at Claire.
Claire gave a tiny nod.
Vanessa wiped her cheeks.
“Your father never died.”
The words sounded absurd.
I almost laughed.
But nobody else was laughing.
“Then whose funeral did we attend?”
“A body.”
“Whose?”
“I don't know.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“I don't know whose body it was.”
Claire interrupted.
“It doesn't matter.”
“It matters to me.”
She looked directly into my eyes.
“Your father arranged his own death.”
“Why?”
“To disappear.”
“From who?”
Claire hesitated.
“From his partners.”
“What partners?”
Vanessa stepped forward.
“The people who funded the foundation.”
I looked at her.
“The foundation?”
She nodded.
“It wasn't just charity work.”
“What was it?”
Vanessa glanced at the camera.
“They laundered money through legitimate grants.”
The room went quiet.
I shook my head.
“No.”
Claire said softly, “Daniel.”
“No.”
I stepped backward.
“Our foundation helped shelters.”
“Yes.”
“Medical programs.”
“Yes.”
“Children's hospitals.”
“Yes.”
“So what you're saying is—”
“Some of the money was real,” Vanessa said. “Some wasn't.”
I stared at her.
“How much was fake?”
“Enough.”
The television crackled.
My father's voice returned.
“Enough to make several people very nervous.”
I turned toward the screen.
“Why Claire?”
“Because she found the discrepancy.”
Claire lowered her eyes.
“I noticed transfers that didn't match the records.”
“You told me?”
“I tried.”
The words hit harder than I expected.
“What do you mean, you tried?”
“That night.”
“What happened?”
Claire looked toward the ceiling.
“Your father had someone following me.”
“Why?”
“Because I was going to expose him.”
I felt dizzy.
“You knew he was alive.”
“Yes.”
“How long?”
“Since before Lily was born.”
I stared at her.
“What?”
“My father contacted me before our wedding.”
I couldn't breathe.
“He told me to stay away from you.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because he said he'd hurt you.”
“That doesn't make sense.”
“He had people everywhere, Daniel.”
“You could have trusted me.”
“I did.”
Her voice broke.
“That's why I was afraid.”
Lily began to cry softly.
Claire immediately crouched despite the restraints.
“Baby, come here.”
Lily crawled into her arms.
Claire kissed her hair.
“I’m sorry.”
“You didn’t leave me,” Lily whispered.
Claire closed her eyes.
“No.”
“You didn't want us?”
“Never.”
The words nearly destroyed me.
I had spent eighteen months waking up angry.
Angry at Claire.
Angry at myself.
Angry at every person who told me she had chosen to leave.
Now I realized I had been mourning a lie.
A tiny mechanical click sounded from the ceiling.
Vanessa looked up.
“He's listening.”
My father's voice emerged from the speakers.
“Of course I am.”
I looked around.
“Then listen to this.”
I grabbed the IV stand beside Claire and swung it at the camera.
The lens shattered.
The room went dark.
“Daniel!”
Something hissed overhead.
A chemical smell filled the room.
Claire coughed.
“Get Lily out!”
“What is that?”
“Gas!”
I grabbed Lily.
Vanessa ran toward the door.
“It won't open!”
She punched the keypad.
Nothing happened.
Claire pulled at her restraints.
“Daniel!”
I rushed to her.
The air was already becoming thick and bitter.
I grabbed the chair and ripped it sideways.
The bolts holding one restraint tore loose.
Claire cried out.
“Again!”
I pulled harder.
The second restraint snapped.
Her hand fell free.
“Move!”
I lifted Lily into my arms and followed Claire toward the door.
Vanessa stood at the keypad, pressing every button she could.
“It's locked from outside!”
“Find another way!”
“There isn't one!”
Claire suddenly stopped.
“There is.”
She pointed beneath the sink.
“A service panel.”
I dropped to my knees.
My fingers found the metal latch.
I pulled.
Behind it was a narrow tunnel.
“Go,” Claire said.
I looked at her.
“You first.”
“No.”
“Claire—”
“Take Lily.”
She shoved me toward the opening.
“I know these tunnels.”
“You're coming with us.”
“I will.”
A deep metallic bang echoed through the room.
Someone was approaching from the corridor.
Claire's face changed.
“Daniel.”
“What?”
“He came early.”
“Who?”
She grabbed my shoulder.
“The man your father trusted with everything.”
I heard footsteps.
Slow.
Measured.
Getting closer.
Vanessa backed into the wall.
“No.”
Claire looked at her.
“You know him.”
Vanessa nodded.
“Who is it?”
Vanessa's lips moved.
No sound came out.
I grabbed her arm.
“Who?”
She finally whispered the name.
“Richard.”
My blood ran cold.
Richard Hale.
My father's attorney.
The man who had handled his estate after his death.
The man who had stood beside me at the cemetery and told me, Your father would want you to be strong.
The footsteps stopped outside the room.
A man's voice came through the door.
“Daniel?”
I knew that voice.
I had heard it for years.
Richard said gently, “Open the door.”
I stared at Claire.
She shook her head.
“Don't.”
Richard spoke again.
“You've got your wife back. That's good.”
A pause.
“Now give her to me.”
I stepped in front of Claire and Lily.
“No.”
Silence.
Then Richard laughed.
“Your father knew you would say that.”
I looked at the service tunnel.
“How many people are outside?”
“Enough.”
“And if I don't hand her over?”
Richard's voice became flat.
“Then your daughter dies first.”
Lily buried her face against my chest.
Claire went white.
Vanessa whispered, “He's bluffing.”
Richard answered instantly.
“Am I?”
A gunshot exploded somewhere beyond the door.
Lily screamed.
The bullet struck the wall inches from Richard's own voice.
Claire pulled me toward the tunnel.
“Now!”
I shoved Lily through first.
Vanessa followed.
Claire climbed in.
I was halfway through when the hidden door suddenly burst inward.
Richard stood there.
He wasn't alone.
Two men in black masks stepped behind him.
Richard raised a pistol.
Our eyes met.
“Daniel,” he said quietly.
Then he smiled.
“You really should have listened to your father.”
And behind him, on the television screen that I thought I'd destroyed, my father's face appeared one more time.
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Only this time, he wasn't smiling.
He looked terrified.
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