Chapter 2 - The Dead Man in My Hallway
I watched the footage three times.
Each viewing made less sense.
The man on the screen was older than I remembered.
Heavier.
His hair had gone mostly gray.
But there are faces you do not forget.
Especially when you have paid for their funeral.
“Elias,” I said.
Tomas did not answer.
He didn’t need to.
Elias Mercer had been my father’s chief accountant for almost twenty years.
He had taught me how to read a balance sheet before I was old enough to drive.
He had also disappeared after my father died.
Three months later, police told us Elias had been killed in a highway accident outside Flagstaff.
The vehicle burned.
Dental records confirmed identity.
I had sent flowers to his sister.
Now he was standing in my service corridor at 2:11 in the morning using Lenora Pike’s credentials to steal medical assistance from my employees.
Rosa held Sophie against her side.
“Who is he?”
“Someone who should not be here.”
Lenora looked sick.
“You knew,” I said.
“No.”
“You said his name before I did.”
“I recognized him.”
“From where?”
“You had photographs.”
“Not in this house.”
She froze.
There it was.
A tiny fracture.
I moved closer.
“How do you know Elias Mercer?”
“I don’t.”
“Then why did you tell Marco not to say Daniel’s name?”
Her mouth tightened.
“That was panic.”
“People reveal useful things when they panic.”
Tomas moved toward the door.
“Adrian, security should lock the estate down.”
“Do it.”
Lenora stepped forward.
“You can’t seriously believe Elias Mercer is hiding here.”
“I believe he has been here.”
“The footage could be manipulated.”
“Then you should be very interested in helping me prove it.”
She said nothing.
I turned to Rosa.
“Take Sophie upstairs to the east sitting room.”
Rosa looked uncertain.
“I’d rather go home.”
“No.”
The word came harder than intended.
Sophie flinched.
I lowered my voice.
“Not yet.”
Rosa’s eyes sharpened.
She was frightened, but she was not weak.
“Why?”
“Because somebody opened a bank account using your identity.”
Her face drained.
“And because whoever did it knows where you work.”
Sophie looked between us.
Rosa covered one of her ears gently.
“I don’t want her hearing this.”
“East sitting room. Tomas will put two people outside.”
“I don’t want guards around my daughter.”
“They’re not guarding her from leaving.”
I looked toward the security screens.
“They’re guarding anyone else from getting near her.”
That convinced her.
Barely.
As she turned, Sophie looked back at me.
“Mr. Vale?”
“Yes?”
“My bunny?”
She had left it on the marble.
I picked it up.
Before handing it back, I noticed something beneath one of its repaired seams.
A hard rectangle.
Small.
Thin.
I looked at Rosa.
“Did you put something in here?”
She frowned.
“No.”
I gently squeezed the rabbit.
Definitely something inside.
Sophie reached for it.
“Please.”
I gave it back immediately.
“Sorry.”
She hugged it.
Rosa led her away.
I watched until they disappeared through the corridor.
Then I turned toward Lenora.
“Office.”
My private study was on the first floor, beyond a set of double doors most staff members never entered.
Lenora sat across from my desk.
Tomas remained standing.
I placed Rosa’s request between us.
“Start at the beginning.”
“I approved the application.”
“And?”
“I submitted it for payment.”
“Then told Rosa I denied it.”
Lenora rubbed her forehead.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I was told the payment had failed.”
“By whom?”
She stared at the desk.
“Daniel.”
“Your brother.”
“Yes.”
“Who you said lives in Arizona.”
“He did.”
“Past tense.”
She nodded.
“Where is he now?”
“I don’t know.”
“Try again.”
“I don’t know.”
Tomas stepped closer.
“Lenora.”
“I don’t know!”
The force in her voice surprised all of us.
She pressed both hands against her temples.
“My brother is an addict.”
That I had not known.
“He disappeared two years ago,” she continued. “Then he called me last summer. He owed money.”
“To whom?”
“He wouldn’t say.”
“How much?”
“Almost sixty thousand.”
“And you helped him.”
“I gave him fifteen.”
“From your money?”
“Yes.”
“Then?”
“He asked for access to temporary vendor accounts.”
I stared at her.
“You gave him access to my system?”
“No. I refused.”
“But?”
“He knew enough from listening to me over the years. He knew which programs existed. Which payments received less oversight.”
“Medical assistance.”
She nodded miserably.
“I changed my passwords.”
“Apparently not well enough.”
“It wasn’t Daniel in that footage.”
“No.”
Her eyes met mine.
“Elias.”
“What is their connection?”
“I don’t know.”
“Lenora.”
“I swear.”
I believed she was lying.
I did not yet know whether the lie protected herself or someone else.
Tomas’s phone rang.
He answered.
Listened.
Then looked at me.
“We found the shell company.”
“Where?”
“Registered in Nevada. Rosa’s identification was used.”
“Address?”
“A mail service.”
“Who created it?”
“Application submitted electronically.”
“IP?”
“Public library.”
Lenora exhaled.
“Then you have nothing.”
Tomas ignored her.
“But the bank account had one in-person withdrawal.”
“How much?”
“Two thousand dollars.”
“Camera?”
“We’re requesting it.”
“When?”
“December 14.”
I looked toward Lenora.
“What?”
She had gone rigid.
“Nothing.”
“What happened December 14?”
“No idea.”
“You recognized it.”
She shook her head.
I came around the desk.
“Your brother’s birthday?”
“No.”
“Elias’s?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
She whispered, “It was the day Rosa’s husband died.”
I stopped.
Rosa had never mentioned a husband.
“How?”
“Construction accident.”
“When?”
“December 14. Two years ago.”
“And somebody using Rosa’s stolen identity withdrew money on the anniversary of her husband’s death.”
Lenora looked at me.
“That can’t be coincidence.”
“No.”
Tomas’s phone vibrated.
He stepped away to answer.
I thought about the stuffed rabbit.
The hard object sewn inside.
Rosa said she had not put it there.
Who had repaired it?
Sophie had said:
Mommy fixed him.
But perhaps she meant another repair.
Children compress time.
They remember hands more easily than dates.
“When did Sophie get that rabbit?” I asked.
Lenora frowned.
“What?”
“The stuffed animal.”
“How would I know?”
The office door opened.
Rosa stood there.
Without Sophie.
My entire body tightened.
“Where is your daughter?”
“With the guard.”
“Then why are you here?”
She held the stuffed rabbit.
“I found this.”
The seam had been opened.
In her palm lay a small black USB drive.
Tomas returned.
He saw it.
Nobody spoke.
Rosa handed it to me.
“I didn’t put that there.”
“Who repaired the rabbit?”
“My husband.”
The answer landed slowly.
“Before he died?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“The night before.”
Lenora stood.
“Rosa, what did your husband do?”
Rosa’s expression changed.
Not grief.
Memory.
“He worked construction.”
“For whom?”
She looked at me.
“Vale Development.”
My company.
“What project?”
“I don’t know. He stopped telling me toward the end.”
“Why?”
“He said he had seen something at work that frightened him.”
I gripped the USB.
“What?”
“He wouldn’t say.”
“Did he know Elias Mercer?”
Rosa stared.
“I don’t know.”
“Daniel Pike?”
Nothing.
Then her face shifted.
“Daniel.”
“You know him?”
“My husband mentioned a Danny once.”
Lenora rose.
“What did he say?”
Rosa’s voice lowered.
“He said Danny had started moving things after midnight.”
“What things?”
“He wouldn’t tell me.”
Tomas took the drive.
“I’ll open it on an isolated machine.”
“No network.”
“Of course.”
We went to the security room.
Rosa insisted on coming.
Lenora did too.
Tomas inserted the USB into an offline terminal.
One folder appeared.
NOAH.
Rosa’s husband’s name had been Noah Alvarez.
Her hand flew to her mouth.
Inside the folder were photographs.
Invoices.
Building plans.
Bank transfers.
And one video file.
Tomas clicked it.
Noah appeared onscreen.
He was sitting in a car.
His face was bruised.
He looked exhausted.
But alive.
The timestamp read:
December 13.
The night before his death.
“If Rosa is watching this,” he said, “then I failed.”
Rosa began crying silently.
Noah looked into the camera.
“They’re taking money through the employee funds, but that isn’t the real business. It’s how they test the routes.”
Tomas looked at me.
The video continued.
“The medical payments are small enough not to trigger Adrian Vale. Once the route works, they move construction money.”
My stomach tightened.
“How much?” I whispered.
As if answering, Noah continued.
“I found transfers totaling twelve million.”
Lenora sat down.
Noah looked over his shoulder.
“I know who’s running it.”
The video glitched.
Returned.
Then he said a name.
But the audio vanished.
His lips moved.
No sound.
Rosa leaned toward the monitor.
“What did he say?”
Tomas rewound.
Again.
No audio.
Again.
Nothing.
Then a new window appeared automatically.
PASSWORD REQUIRED.
Below it was one sentence.
ASK SOPHIE WHAT HER FATHER CALLED THE MOON.
Rosa stared at the screen.
I looked toward the door.
Sophie was waiting upstairs.
We had a password.
And somewhere inside that drive was the name Noah Alvarez had died trying to reveal.
Rosa reached for the office door.
Before she could touch it, someone knocked from the other side.
May you like
Three slow knocks.
Then Sophie screamed.
