Chapter 5 - The Red Folder
“ACCIDENT — DANIEL MERCER.”
Claire read the words again.
I didn’t move.
The photograph on my phone showed the inside of my father’s hidden safe.
One red folder.
My name.
My accident.
The same accident I had spent sixteen years believing was random.
Claire looked at me.
“Daniel.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not.”
“No.”
I wasn’t.
The police officer beside us glanced toward my phone.
“Is that connected to your father?”
I locked the screen.
“I don’t know yet.”
That was technically true.
The officer studied my face.
“Mr. Mercer, if someone has taken your father against his will, this is no longer a private family matter.”
“I understand.”
“Do you?”
Claire touched my arm.
“Daniel, tell him.”
I looked at her.
She wasn’t asking permission.
She was reminding me that secrets were exactly how we got here.
I turned back to the officer.
“My father may have been abducted.”
His expression sharpened.
“When?”
“Within the last fifteen minutes.”
“Where?”
“My parents’ house.”
He immediately reached for his radio.
“And you received evidence of this?”
“Yes.”
“Show me.”
I handed him the phone.
He studied the images.
The SUV.
Dad being pushed toward it.
The message.
OPEN THE SAFE.
Then the photograph of the red folder.
“Who sent these?”
“Unknown number.”
“Do you recognize anyone in the images?”
“My father. My mother. My uncle.”
“Your uncle?”
I hesitated.
“Thomas Mercer.”
The officer typed something into his device.
Then looked up.
“Thomas Mercer is deceased.”
Claire closed her eyes.
I rubbed my forehead.
“That’s complicated.”
“I’m listening.”
“He isn’t dead.”
The officer stared at me.
“Okay.”
That single word carried more skepticism than a speech.
“I just saw him.”
“Today?”
“Yes.”
“At your parents’ house?”
“Yes.”
“And he was present when your father was taken?”
“In the photo, yes.”
“Is he involved?”
“I don’t know.”
“That phrase is coming up a lot.”
“I know.”
His partner approached from the mailbox.
“No prints we can use yet. Envelope’s clean.”
The first officer handed him my phone.
“Possible kidnapping. We’re escalating.”
My stomach twisted.
Kidnapping.
Hearing the word made everything real.
Claire squeezed my hand.
The officer turned back to me.
“Do not go to that house.”
I already knew I was going.
He must have seen it in my face.
“I mean it.”
“My mother is there.”
“We’ll send units.”
“There’s a hidden safe in the office.”
“Then our people will secure it.”
“There’s a folder inside with my name on it.”
“Which means you have more reason not to interfere.”
He stepped closer.
“If the people who sent that message wanted you inside that house, ask yourself why.”
That slowed me.
Claire said quietly, “He’s right.”
I hated that they were right.
The officer continued.
“Stay here. We’ll have someone take a full statement.”
“I need to call my attorney.”
“Do that.”
I called Michael.
He answered before the second ring.
“You sound terrible.”
“My father’s been taken.”
Silence.
“What?”
I explained quickly.
Not everything.
There wasn’t time.
When I reached the part about the hidden safe, Michael interrupted.
“Do not open it.”
“I don’t know the combination.”
“That’s not the point.”
“What is?”
“The second you touch anything inside that safe, someone may later accuse you of destroying, removing, or altering evidence.”
“I’m the one being threatened.”
“That won’t stop anyone from blaming you.”
I paced across the living room.
Claire sat on the couch.
Her hands rested over her stomach.
I hated seeing her in the middle of this.
Michael continued.
“I’m coming over.”
“You don’t need to.”
“I wasn’t asking.”
He hung up.
I looked at Claire.
“You should go somewhere else tonight.”
“No.”
“Claire.”
“No.”
“They know where we live.”
“And separating us makes that better?”
I had no answer.
She stood carefully.
“I’m not leaving you alone.”
“This could get dangerous.”
“It already is.”
She looked toward the bruise on her arm.
“Yesterday your sister threw a shoe at me. Today someone apparently kidnapped your father. I think we passed normal family problems a while ago.”
Despite everything, I almost smiled.
Then her expression softened.
“I’m scared too.”
That erased the smile.
“I know.”
“No. I don’t think you do. You keep looking at me like I’m something you need to move somewhere safe while you solve everything.”
“I’m trying to protect you.”
“I know. But I’m your wife, Daniel. Not luggage.”
I looked down.
She stepped closer.
“If you know something, tell me. If you’re afraid, tell me. If you’re about to do something stupid, definitely tell me.”
I laughed once.
She didn’t.
“I mean it.”
“Okay.”
“Okay what?”
“Okay. No more shutting you out.”
She nodded.
“Good.”
My phone rang.
Mom.
I answered instantly.
“Mom?”
Her breathing was ragged.
“Daniel.”
“Are you okay?”
“Yes.”
“Where’s Thomas?”
Silence.
“Mom?”
“He left.”
“With Dad?”
“No.”
“What happened?”
“I don’t know.”
“Stop saying that.”
“I went upstairs because Melissa was hysterical. I heard the front door open. When I came back down, Robert was gone.”
“And Thomas?”
“Gone too.”
“Did you see a black SUV?”
“No.”
“Someone photographed Dad being forced into one.”
She made a small sound.
“God.”
“Police are on their way.”
“No.”
I stopped.
“What?”
“Daniel, don’t send police here.”
Too late.
“Why?”
“Because of the safe.”
I stared at nothing.
“What is in it?”
“I told you I didn’t know it existed.”
“You also told me Thomas was dead for eleven years.”
“That is not fair.”
“Nothing about this is fair.”
She lowered her voice.
“If the police open that safe, your father is finished.”
“What did he do?”
“I don’t know.”
“Mom.”
“I know pieces.”
“Then give me the pieces.”
She started crying.
I had heard my mother cry before.
At funerals.
At weddings.
When the bank almost took the house.
But this sounded different.
This was panic.
“Your father kept records.”
“What kind?”
“Payments. Names. Dates.”
“The old investment operation?”
“Yes.”
“And the accident?”
She stopped crying.
That was worse.
“Mom.”
“I never saw that folder.”
“But you knew it existed.”
“I knew Robert kept something about that night.”
My skin went cold.
“What night?”
She didn’t answer.
“The night of my crash?”
“Yes.”
I sat down.
Claire immediately came beside me.
“What did Dad have to do with my accident?”
“I don’t know exactly.”
“That’s not enough anymore.”
“I know.”
“Did Dad cause it?”
“No.”
Too quick.
Again.
“You’re lying.”
“No.”
“Then why did you answer before I finished asking?”
She was silent.
“Mom.”
“I think Robert knew it was going to happen.”
Everything inside me stopped.
“What?”
“I don’t know how.”
“You think he knew someone was going to hit my car?”
“I think he knew you were in danger.”
“And he didn’t warn me?”
“I don’t know.”
I stood again.
My hands were shaking now.
Claire reached for them.
“Why was Thomas there?”
“Because Robert asked him to be.”
I closed my eyes.
The photograph.
Thomas beside my wrecked car.
Dad on the road.
The message:
ASK ROBERT WHO HIT YOUR CAR.
“You said Thomas was meeting Dad.”
“He was.”
“Before or after the crash?”
“After.”
That mattered.
“Why?”
“I never knew.”
“Mom, I need you to stop protecting him.”
“I’m not.”
“You’ve been protecting him for decades.”
She went quiet.
Then she whispered, “Maybe.”
I heard sirens in the distance.
She heard them too.
“Oh no.”
“Stay inside.”
“Daniel—”
“Stay inside. Do not touch the safe.”
She whispered, “What if whoever took Robert comes back?”
My chest tightened.
“Lock yourself upstairs.”
“Melissa’s here.”
“Take her with you.”
Another silence.
Then Mom said something strange.
“Daniel, there’s something else.”
“What?”
“Melissa has been acting odd.”
I almost laughed.
“That doesn’t narrow it down.”
“No. I mean today.”
“What did she do?”
“She asked about the safe.”
I stopped.
“The safe she supposedly didn’t know existed?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“I don’t know.”
Again.
But this time, the phrase scared me.
“Where is she now?”
“Upstairs.”
“Are you sure?”
Mom didn’t answer.
“Mom?”
“I thought she was.”
A faint sound came through the phone.
A door closing.
Then Mom whispered, “Wait.”
“Don’t go anywhere.”
“She’s not in her room.”
“Mom, listen to me.”
“I’m checking the back hall.”
“No.”
“She took her purse.”
“Get upstairs.”
Then the line went dead.
“Mom?”
Nothing.
I called back.
Straight to voicemail.
Claire stood.
“What happened?”
“She hung up.”
“Call the police.”
I did.
The officer who had been in our living room was already coordinating with units headed to Westbridge.
He told me to stay where I was.
Again.
I agreed.
Again.
And meant it even less.
Twenty minutes later, Michael arrived.
He looked at Claire first.
“You okay?”
“Yes.”
Then at me.
“You look awful.”
“Thanks.”
He put his briefcase down.
“Show me everything.”
I showed him the messages.
His face became more serious with each image.
When he reached the red folder, he zoomed in.
“Interesting.”
“What?”
“The safe photo.”
“What about it?”
“Look at the right edge.”
I enlarged it.
There was a small electronic panel visible beside the shelf.
“A keypad?”
“No.”
Michael leaned closer.
“Digital media reader.”
“For what?”
“Could be security. Could be data storage.”
“So?”
“So this may not just be paper records.”
Claire looked at him.
“You think there are files?”
“I think whoever sent Daniel this photograph wants him to believe there are.”
My phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
All three of us froze.
New message.
YOUR FATHER LIED ABOUT THE ACCIDENT.
Another arrived.
THOMAS LIED TOO.
Then:
THE RED FOLDER IS ONLY HALF.
Michael held out his hand.
“Give me the phone.”
I did.
The next message came.
THE OTHER HALF IS WITH MELISSA.
I stared.
Claire whispered, “His sister?”
Another image appeared.
Melissa.
Standing in a parking garage.
Holding a black flash drive.
Timestamp: twelve minutes ago.
I felt sick.
Michael said, “Do you recognize the garage?”
I zoomed in.
Concrete column.
Blue stripe.
White number.
B4.
Nothing distinctive.
Then I noticed the vehicle behind her.
Dad’s Mercedes.
“She took Dad’s car.”
Another message.
ASK HER WHY SHE KNEW ABOUT THE SAFE.
I called Melissa.
No answer.
Again.
Nothing.
I texted:
WHERE ARE YOU?
Three dots appeared.
Stopped.
Appeared again.
Then she replied.
DON’T CALL ME.
I typed:
DAD IS MISSING.
Her response came immediately.
I KNOW.
My stomach dropped.
HOW?
No answer.
I called.
This time she picked up.
“What?”
“Where are you?”
“None of your business.”
“Dad has been kidnapped.”
Silence.
Then, “That’s dramatic.”
I stared at the phone.
“Melissa.”
“What?”
“How do you know about the safe?”
Nothing.
“Answer me.”
Her breathing changed.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Someone sent me a picture of you holding a flash drive.”
She cursed.
“Who?”
“Where are you?”
“Daniel, listen to me.”
That was the first time she had sounded genuinely frightened.
“Go home.”
“Where are you?”
“Do not come looking for me.”
“Melissa.”
“Dad told me if anything ever happened, I was supposed to take it.”
“Take what?”
“The drive.”
“What’s on it?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then why did you take it?”
“Because he told me to.”
“When?”
“A year ago.”
I looked at Michael.
He was listening.
“Why would Dad trust you with this?”
Melissa went quiet.
Then she said, “Because you were never supposed to know.”
My chest tightened.
“Know what?”
“I can’t.”
“Melissa, Dad might be in danger.”
“So am I.”
That stopped me.
“Who is threatening you?”
“I don’t know.”
“Are you alone?”
She didn’t answer.
“Melissa.”
“No.”
Michael stood.
Claire grabbed my arm.
I asked, “Who’s with you?”
Her voice dropped to a whisper.
“The man who hit your car.”
Every sound in the room disappeared.
I gripped the phone.
“What did you say?”
Melissa started crying.
“He says Dad owes him.”
“Who is he?”
“I don’t know his real name.”
“Where are you?”
She whispered an address.
Michael was already writing it down.
It was a hotel near the interstate.
“Stay there.”
“No!”
“I’m coming.”
“Daniel, please.”
“What?”
“If you come here, he’ll know I told you.”
“Then call the police.”
“He said he’ll kill Dad.”
My blood ran cold.
“You’ve seen Dad?”
“No.”
“Then how do you know he has him?”
“He showed me a live video.”
Claire covered her mouth.
“Melissa, listen carefully. I need you to send me the drive.”
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
“Because it isn’t with me anymore.”
I closed my eyes.
“Who has it?”
She whispered, “Thomas.”
I stared at the wall.
“You gave it to Uncle Thomas?”
“No.”
“He took it.”
“When?”
“Ten minutes ago.”
“Then who are you with now?”
She stopped breathing for a second.
“Melissa?”
A man’s voice came through the phone.
Calm.
Older.
“Daniel.”
I knew instantly it wasn’t Thomas.
“Who are you?”
The man laughed softly.
“Your father should have told you about me a long time ago.”
“Where is he?”
“Alive.”
“If you hurt him—”
“Your father has already been hurt by his own decisions.”
“Who are you?”
“You can call me Victor.”
Michael looked at me sharply.
Victor Hale.
I turned on speaker.
Victor continued.
“The red folder belongs to you.”
“What do you want?”
“What was stolen from me.”
“The flash drive?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
There was a pause.
“You.”
Claire grabbed my hand.
Victor said, “Your father hid you from me for sixteen years.”
I felt the room tilt.
“What are you talking about?”
“He never told you why your car was hit.”
“Tell me.”
“I will.”
“When?”
“Tonight.”
“Where?”
“You’ll receive instructions.”
“If Melissa is with you—”
“She’s safe.”
“Put her on.”
“No.”
“Put my sister on the phone.”
A muffled sound.
Then Melissa screamed my name.
The call ended.
I immediately dialed back.
Disconnected number.
Michael grabbed his phone.
“I’m calling federal law enforcement.”
I barely heard him.
One phrase kept repeating in my head.
Your father hid you from me.
Sixteen years.
Claire looked terrified.
“Daniel, what does that mean?”
“I don’t know.”
And for once, I was more afraid of the answer than the uncertainty.
Then my phone vibrated again.
Not a text.
An email.
Sender:
THOMAS MERCER.
Subject:
IF VICTOR CONTACTS YOU, READ THIS FIRST.
There was one attachment.
A scanned birth certificate.
I opened it.
My name was on the first line.
Daniel James Mercer.
My mother’s name was correct.
Evelyn Mercer.
But under FATHER, the name Robert Mercer had been crossed out in red ink.
Another name had been handwritten beneath it.
Claire leaned closer.
Her fingers tightened around my arm.
I read the name once.
Then again.
VICTOR HALE.
May you like
And beneath it Thomas had written one sentence:
DANIEL, ROBERT MERCER IS NOT YOUR FATHER.
