Chapter 7 - The Retired Lawyer
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My hands trembled slightly as I stared at the digital document on the screen.
Adrian’s father had written this letter twenty-two years ago. Adrian had never mentioned it to me. In fact, whenever Thomas Mercer’s name came up during our marriage, Adrian had dismissed his father as an irresponsible, distant man who had abandoned the family.
Now, reading Thomas’s desperate words, a completely different picture was emerging.
I immediately picked up my phone and dialed Detective Lena Morris.
“Lena, I need you to check a name right now,” I said the second she answered.
“I’m listening, Hannah.”
“Martin Shaw. He was a lawyer who represented Thomas Mercer two decades ago.”
There was a long, heavy silence on the other end of the line.
“Lena? Are you still there?”
“Hannah,” Lena said, her voice dropping an octave. “Martin Shaw contacted our department three hours ago.”
A chill ran down my spine. “He called you?”
“Yes. He saw news reports about Adrian’s arrest and your balcony 'accident.' He told the desk sergeant that he had been waiting for twenty-one years for someone in the Mercer family to ask about the trust.”
“I want to talk to him,” I insisted. “Can you set up a secure video call?”
“I’m already ahead of you. Give me thirty minutes.”
At two o'clock that afternoon, Lena brought a secure police tablet into my rehab room. She initiated a encrypted video conference.
An elderly man appeared on the screen. Martin Shaw was eighty-two years old, with thin silver hair, sharp wire-rimmed glasses, and a deeply lined face that spoke of decades spent navigating dark legal waters. He was sitting in a home study surrounded by floor-to-ceiling bookshelves.
“Mrs. Mercer,” Martin said, his voice raspy but steady.
May you like
“Call me Hannah,” I replied, leaning closer to the tablet. “Did you know my father-in-law well?”
“Thomas was my closest client for fifteen years,” Martin said quietly. “And I know exactly what happened to his money.”
