Chapter 3 - The Watch Lauren Gave Me
Lauren found Grant before I could stop her.
“Who pushed Catherine Dawson?”
His champagne glass froze halfway to his mouth.
Around him, guests continued laughing.
“Where did you hear that name?”
“Answer me.”
Grant looked at Claire.
Then at me.
“We need somewhere private.”
Lauren shook her head.
“No. You have had seventeen years of private.”
Grant’s mother approached, but one look from her son stopped her.
He led us into the library.
The door closed.
Grant poured himself water.
Nobody sat.
“I was seventeen,” he began. “Catherine was eighteen.”
Claire’s jaw tightened.
“She worked here that summer.”
“She was my friend.”
“My sister didn’t call you her friend.”
Grant looked at her.
“What did she call me?”
Claire hesitated.
“Her mistake.”
Grant absorbed that quietly.
Then he nodded.
“That sounds like Catherine.”
Lauren stared at him.
“Did you love her?”
“I thought I did.”
The answer hurt Lauren. I saw it.
Not because Grant had loved someone before her.
Because he had erased her.
Grant continued.
“My father owned Hawthorne then. Catherine discovered financial records showing he was using renovation companies to move money between developments.”
“Fraud?” I asked.
“Yes.”
Claire frowned.
“My sister never told me that.”
“She was afraid.”
“Of your father?”
“Of what he would do to your family.”
Grant walked to the window.
“The night Catherine died, she planned to give the records to Lauren’s father.”
Lauren stiffened.
“My dad?”
“He was a young prosecutor then.”
That fit.
Robert Whitaker had later become a respected judge.
Grant turned.
“I confronted Catherine on the balcony. We argued. I begged her not to destroy my family.”
Claire’s eyes filled.
“And?”
“She walked away from me alive.”
“Who stayed?”
Grant said nothing.
Lauren whispered, “Grant.”
“My father.”
Claire inhaled sharply.
“You think your father killed her?”
“I don’t know.”
“Seventeen years and you don’t know?”
“My father died eight years ago.”
“That doesn’t answer me.”
“No,” Grant said. “It doesn’t.”
Lauren moved away from him.
Her wedding gown brushed against shelves filled with antique books.
“What about my father?”
“He arrived minutes after Catherine fell.”
“Did he investigate?”
“No.”
“Why?”
Grant looked ashamed.
“Because my father had something on him.”
Lauren’s voice became dangerously quiet.
“What?”
“I never knew.”
My wrist suddenly felt tight.
I rubbed beneath the old watch strap.
Claire noticed.
She stared at it.
Then her entire expression changed.
“Take that off.”
“What?”
“Your watch.”
“Why?”
“Daniel. Take it off.”
I unbuckled the strap.
Claire grabbed it.
She turned it over.
There, scratched into the metal back, was a tiny symbol.
A hawthorn branch.
Claire looked at Lauren.
“Where did you buy this?”
Lauren frowned.
“I didn’t. My father gave it to me years ago. I gave it to Daniel.”
Claire pressed her thumbnail against the edge.
A hidden panel popped open.
Inside was a tiny brass key.
Nobody spoke.
I stared at Lauren.
“You gave me a watch with a key inside?”
“I didn’t know.”
Claire held it beneath the lamp.
A number was engraved on the key.
Table Twelve.
We returned to the ballroom.
The guests were dancing now.
Table Twelve stood nearly empty.
Miss Evelyn and Ruth were on the dance floor.
Claire crouched beside my chair.
“There.”
A tiny keyhole was hidden beneath the wooden frame.
I inserted the key.
Click.
A narrow compartment opened beneath the seat.
Inside was an envelope.
Sealed.
Yellowed.
Written across the front:
FOR DANIEL MERCER.
My stomach dropped.
“That’s impossible,” I said.
Claire looked at me.
Lauren whispered, “My father knew you would be here.”
I tore open the envelope.
Inside was a single sheet.
Daniel,
If you are reading this, then Lauren married Grant, and I failed to stop something I should have stopped seventeen years ago.
Do not trust the official story about Catherine Dawson.
Do not trust Grant’s memory.
And most importantly—
A shadow fell across the paper.
I stopped.
Robert Whitaker, Lauren’s father, stood behind me.
He stared at the letter.
Then at the key.
“Daniel,” he said.
May you like
His voice shook.
“You need to give me that before Lauren reads the next line.”
