Chapter 2 - The Lie in the Rearview MirrorI didn't start the engine.
Rain hammered the roof of the SUV.
Caroline turned halfway around in her seat.
"What did you just say, Sophie?"
My daughter shrank against her car seat.
I held up my hand.
"Caroline. Don't."
She stared at me.
"Daniel, she's confused."
"I want to hear what she has to say."
Sophie's eyes filled again.
I hated that I had to ask her to repeat something that obviously frightened her.
But I also knew I had already failed her once that afternoon.
"Sweetheart," I said, twisting in my seat, "tell me what happened before Victor found you."
Sophie rubbed her sleeve across her nose.
"Aunt Caroline said we had to wait by the bench."
"All right."
"Then she said she needed to do something."
"What something?"
Sophie shook her head.
"She didn't say."
Caroline sighed.
"I stepped around the corner to speak to someone at the desk. That's all."
"Which desk?" I asked.
"The administrative office."
"The administrative office is on the other side of the building."
Caroline blinked.
"Well, I may have gone the wrong way initially."
Sophie suddenly leaned forward.
"No. You told me to stay where the big man could see me."
The silence that followed was terrible.
I felt Caroline go rigid beside me.
"What big man?" I asked.
"The man with the pictures on his arms."
Victor.
I slowly looked at Caroline.
"You knew he was there?"
She laughed once.
An ugly, nervous sound.
"Daniel, for heaven's sake. We passed him earlier. I didn't know his name."
"Then why did you tell Sophie to stay where he could see her?"
"I didn't."
Sophie made a small sound.
Not quite a sob.
More like the noise a child makes when an adult has just insisted that the truth is a lie.
I looked back at her.
"You don't have to convince anybody right now."
"But she said—"
"I believe you."
The words came out before I had fully considered them.
Caroline turned to face the windshield.
I watched her reflection.
For the first time since Amelia's funeral, she looked unfamiliar.
"We should discuss this at home," she said.
"Maybe."
I started the car.
But instead of driving toward our house, I pulled into a covered parking space and took out my phone.
"Who are you calling?" Caroline asked.
"The clinic."
"Daniel—"
"I hit a man who was helping my daughter. I need to know exactly what happened."
She grabbed my wrist.
The contact startled me.
"Listen to me. You cannot go making statements about that man. You don't know who he is."
"I know I struck him."
"Because you thought he was taking your child."
"Because you told me he was taking my child."
Caroline released my arm.
Outside, a delivery truck rolled past the parking structure.
For several seconds, neither of us spoke.
Then she said something that I would remember for a long time.
"Be careful what you admit, Daniel. People can use your mistakes against you."
I looked at her.
"Is that supposed to be advice?"
Her eyes held mine.
"Of course."
I called the clinic.
Lena Ortiz answered on the third ring.
When I identified myself, there was a noticeable pause.
"Mr. Mercer."
"I need to speak with Dr. Brooks."
"She's in a patient meeting. I can ask her to return your call."
"Can you confirm the name of the man who was helping my daughter?"
"Victor Hale."
"Does he work there?"
"He's a licensed electrical contractor retained to inspect part of our renovation."
"So he had a legitimate reason to be in the building?"
"Yes, sir."
Caroline shifted in her seat.
I continued.
"Did you see him take my daughter from anyone?"
Another pause.
"Mr. Mercer, I saw him bring your daughter toward my counter. She was holding on to him. He was speaking gently to her."
"Did she seem afraid of him?"
"No."
I closed my eyes.
The slap sounded again inside my head.
"Would you be willing to tell the police that?"
"Yes."
Caroline turned sharply.
I met her gaze.
"Thank you, Ms. Ortiz. Please ask Dr. Brooks to preserve any security footage from the corridor. My attorney will send a formal request."
"I'll pass it along."
When I ended the call, Caroline's face was almost colorless.
"You're making this into something it doesn't have to be," she said.
I looked at Sophie.
She had fallen asleep against the car window, exhausted by crying.
"Maybe I already did."
We drove home without speaking.
Our house sat on seven acres outside Brighton Cove, Massachusetts, overlooking the gray Atlantic. It had tall windows, polished floors, and more empty rooms than three people needed.
Amelia had loved it because it was full of light.
After she died, the light had become something I avoided.
I carried Sophie upstairs and tucked her beneath her lavender quilt.
She woke briefly as I straightened her pillow.
"Daddy?"
"I'm here."
"Is the big man going to get in trouble?"
My throat tightened.
"I hope not."
"He was nice."
"I know."
She frowned.
"Then why did you hit him?"
I had spent years answering questions about investments, loans, construction contracts, and negotiations worth millions.
I couldn't answer my six-year-old daughter.
Finally, I sat on the edge of her bed.
"Because I was scared, and I didn't stop to think."
"Mommy said being scared doesn't mean you get to be mean."
I stared at her.
Amelia had said that.
Usually when Sophie was angry at another child.
"Mommy was right," I whispered.
Sophie touched my cheek.
"You should tell him sorry."
"I will."
She nodded and closed her eyes.
Downstairs, Caroline stood beside the fireplace, speaking quietly into her phone.
I stopped outside the living room.
She hadn't heard me.
"No," she said. "He called the receptionist."
A pause.
"I don't know what the woman saw."
Another pause.
Then Caroline lowered her voice.
"The footage is the problem. If they find the beginning, he'll know."
My blood went cold.
She listened for another moment.
Then she said, "Adrian, you promised me this wouldn't get out of control."
I stepped into the doorway.
"Who is Adrian?"
Caroline spun around.
The phone almost slipped from her hand.
For a moment, her mouth opened without sound.
Then she ended the call.
"Just someone from work."
But I already knew an Adrian.
Adrian Voss.
Managing partner of Harbor Equity Partners.
May you like
A man who controlled twenty-eight percent of our family's most valuable property company.
And a man who had been trying to persuade me to sell the Harbor Point medical campus for nearly eight months.
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