Chapter 9 - What Rachel Needed
Mark Mercer asked Daniel to meet him at a coffee shop twenty miles away.
Not Emily.
Daniel.
That alone made Emily suspicious.
“You think he wants to help?” she asked.
“I don’t know.”
“You think he’s protecting Rachel?”
“I don’t know that either.”
Emily hated those three words.
But Daniel was right.
They were slowly learning that certainty was dangerous.
Daniel met Mark at 7:30 p.m.
Emily waited at home with Sophie and resisted the urge to call every ten minutes.
At 8:44, Daniel returned.
His face looked wrong.
“What happened?”
He locked the door.
“Mark says Rachel is in financial trouble.”
“How much?”
“He doesn’t know exactly.”
“Of course he knows.”
“He says she handled their finances.”
Emily laughed bitterly.
“Convenient.”
Daniel sat opposite her.
“The development project is almost dead. Their lender refused another extension.”
“How much do they owe?”
“Several million.”
Emily stared.
“Several?”
“Mark says most of it is secured by the project, but they personally guaranteed part of the debt.”
“How much?”
“About eight hundred thousand.”
Emily felt ill.
Daniel continued.
“He says Rachel told him your mother had promised to help.”
“She didn’t.”
“I know.”
“Mom refused.”
Daniel nodded.
“Mark knows that now.”
Emily looked toward Sophie’s bassinet.
“And Rachel thought the company shares would save them.”
“Maybe.”
“What else?”
Daniel hesitated.
“Mark says Rachel has been obsessed with the trust.”
Emily waited.
“He said two weeks ago she told him that if you were removed as trustee, she could ‘fix everything.’”
There it was.
Not proof of injury.
But motive.
“What did Mark say?”
“He thought she meant a legal challenge.”
Emily stared.
“He didn’t ask why she expected me to be removed?”
“He says they were barely speaking.”
“Do you believe him?”
“I don’t know.”
Again.
Three words.
This time Emily did not resent them.
“What about yesterday?”
Daniel leaned forward.
“Mark said Rachel came home around one thirty.”
“That fits.”
“She was upset.”
“About what?”
“She told him you had been rough with Sophie and she was going to report you.”
Emily felt her pulse quicken.
“Did she mention a bruise?”
“No.”
“Makeup?”
“No.”
“Did he see anything in her hands?”
“He doesn’t remember.”
Emily looked at Daniel.
“Mark is hiding something.”
“I think so.”
“Why?”
“Because when I asked whether Rachel owns high-coverage concealer, he stopped talking.”
Emily’s stomach tightened.
“What did he say?”
“He said, ‘Rachel owns half a bathroom.’”
“That’s not an answer.”
“I know.”
Daniel pulled out his phone.
“He also showed me this.”
A photograph.
Rachel at a charity event three months earlier.
She stood beside Mark wearing a dark blue dress.
In her hand was a compact black makeup case.
Emily zoomed in.
The shape looked similar to the object in the Morrison security footage.
Not proof.
But another thread.
Daniel said, “Mark asked me not to tell Rachel we met.”
“Why?”
“He’s afraid of her.”
Emily looked up.
“Afraid?”
“Not physically.”
Daniel searched for words.
“He said Rachel has been moving money without telling him, contacting lawyers, and blaming him for the failed development.”
Emily thought of the missing company payments.
“Did you tell Reyes?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
Sophie woke and began fussing.
Emily lifted her.
As she changed the diaper, she stared at the fading bruise.
The edges were already changing color.
Soon the mark would disappear.
The thought disturbed her.
Evidence could vanish.
Stories could remain.
Her phone rang.
Nathan.
“Rachel’s emergency hearing is tomorrow morning.”
“That soon?”
“She argued urgent financial risk.”
Emily laughed.
“Sophie has a bruise and Rachel’s worried about stock.”
“That contradiction may help us.”
“Unless she turns it around.”
Nathan paused.
“She submitted an affidavit.”
Emily felt cold.
“What does it say?”
Nathan read portions.
Rachel claimed Emily’s emotional stability had deteriorated since Carol’s death.
She cited “episodes of uncontrolled anger.”
She described Tuesday’s bottle-feeding struggle.
She mentioned marital conflict.
And then—
Nathan stopped.
“What?”
“There’s a photograph attached.”
“Of what?”
“Your kitchen.”
Emily waited.
Nathan continued.
“There’s a broken glass on the floor.”
Emily remembered instantly.
Three weeks earlier, she had dropped a water glass while unloading the dishwasher.
Rachel had been visiting.
Rachel had taken a photograph.
At the time Emily had laughed.
Documenting my domestic incompetence?
Rachel had smiled.
Apparently she had been.
“She says I smashed it in anger.”
“Yes.”
“That’s a lie.”
“I know.”
“You weren’t there.”
“No.”
Emily closed her eyes.
Rachel had been preparing this longer than anyone realized.
Not one day.
Not one bruise.
Weeks.
Maybe months.
Nathan said, “There’s something else in the filing.”
Emily almost did not want to ask.
“What?”
“She says your mother privately told her she regretted naming you trustee.”
Emily opened her eyes.
“Mom never said that.”
“I know.”
“How?”
“Because Carol told me the opposite.”
Emily froze.
Nathan continued.
“Three days before she signed the final trust, your mother made a recorded statement explaining exactly why she chose you.”
May you like
For the first time in days, Rachel had not reached the story first.
Carol had.
