Chapter 5 - THE ACCOUNTANT’S BOX
Daniel Cross had supposedly fallen down the stairs in his home.
Police called it an accident.
Robert didn’t.
Neither did I.
Ethan barely spoke during the drive back.
Finally he said, “My mother isn’t a killer.”
“I didn’t say she was.”
“You’re thinking it.”
“I’m thinking Daniel died hours after your mother learned her secret might come out.”
Ethan gripped the steering wheel.
“That doesn’t mean anything.”
“No. But it means enough to ask questions.”
We went directly to Daniel’s office.
Locked.
Dark.
A handwritten sign announced temporary closure.
As we turned away, a woman called my name.
“Claire Mercer?”
A woman in her sixties stood beside a silver sedan.
“I’m Linda Cross.”
Daniel’s widow.
My stomach tightened.
“I’m sorry.”
“Daniel told me someone might come.”
Ethan stared at her.
“When?”
“Yesterday afternoon.”
She opened her trunk.
Inside sat a banker’s box.
“He was terrified.”
“Of Vivian?” I asked.
Linda looked at Ethan.
“Of your mother.”
Ethan closed his eyes.
Linda handed him the box.
“Daniel said if anything happened to him, this goes to George’s son.”
“What’s inside?”
“I don’t know.”
She looked toward the office building.
“But someone broke into our house last night after the police left.”
My pulse jumped.
“Did they take anything?”
“Daniel’s computer.”
“Anything else?”
“No.”
Ethan held the box tighter.
Linda stepped closer.
“He said the truth started with the Mercer company but didn’t end there.”
We opened the box at my sister’s house.
Bank statements.
Property records.
Checks.
Transfers.
Most were decades old.
Robert recognized one company immediately.
“North Valley Holdings.”
“What is it?”
“Vivian’s father owned it.”
The company had received payments from Mercer Construction for thirty-seven years.
Millions of dollars.
Ethan stared at the totals.
“She stole from Dad.”
“Looks that way,” I said.
Then I found an envelope marked PERSONAL.
Inside was a photograph.
George.
Daniel.
And another man.
I didn’t recognize him.
Robert did.
His face went white.
“No.”
Ethan turned.
“Who is that?”
Robert sat down slowly.
“Samuel Hale.”
“Who?”
“Vivian’s high school boyfriend.”
I frowned.
“Before you?”
“Before everyone.”
The photo was dated 1985.
Months before Ethan’s birth.
On the back, George had written:
ASK VIVIAN WHY SAMUEL PAID THE HOSPITAL.
Ethan looked sick.
“What hospital?”
I dug deeper into the box.
Then I found a birth certificate.
Ethan Mercer.
Mother: Vivian Mercer.
Father: George Mercer.
Nothing unusual.
Except clipped behind it was another document.
A hospital billing statement.
Paid by Samuel Hale.
Ethan stared at the name.
“Why would my mother’s ex-boyfriend pay for my birth?”
Robert didn’t answer.
There was another envelope.
Inside was a single DNA report.
Older than the one we had received.
George had ordered it three years ago.
It compared himself to Ethan.
No paternal relationship.
But someone had handwritten another note at the bottom.
ROBERT IS NOT THE FATHER EITHER.
The room went silent.
Ethan slowly looked at Robert.
Robert looked just as shocked.
“That’s impossible.”
I felt my pulse in my throat.
If George wasn’t Ethan’s biological father…
And Robert wasn’t Ethan’s biological father…
Then the secret was even bigger.
I stared at the photograph of Samuel Hale.
There was one way to know.
“Is Samuel still alive?”
Robert nodded slowly.
“I think so.”
Ethan picked up the photograph.
Then he noticed something I had missed.
Samuel Hale had the same crooked scar above his left eyebrow.
The same scar Ethan had.
The same scar Robert had.
Except Robert’s wasn’t natural.
He touched it.
“Motorcycle accident.”
I stared at Ethan.
His had been there since birth.
May you like
And suddenly Robert didn’t look like Ethan anymore.
Samuel did.
