Chapter 8 - The Ghost of Samuel Mercer
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I paced the sterile hallway outside Leah's room for hours, my mind a chaotic storm of betrayal and horrifying revelations. I had left explicit instructions that no one with the last name Mercer was permitted onto the hospital floor. Two armed guards stood firmly by the elevator banks.
At 2:13 the following morning, my phone vibrated in my pocket.
It was a message from an unknown number. There was no text, only a high-resolution photograph of an old, yellowed handwritten letter.
Adrian, if this reaches you, then I failed to protect the evidence. Your mother and Raymond know I found the ledger. They have used the restaurants to wash money from public contracts. I am meeting Leonard Hale tomorrow. If I do not arrive, find him. Do not let Celia convince you I was weak.
I stopped breathing.
The handwriting belonged unmistakably to my father. I had not seen his script in over sixteen years, but I immediately recognized his narrow capital letters and the distinct way he crossed every 'T' twice when he was exhausted.
A second photograph chimed through a moment later, showing the bottom half of the same page.
My medication tastes different tonight. I may be frightened without reason. I hope I am. Trust no one who benefits from my silence.
I stared at the glowing screen until my vision blurred. For my entire adult life, my mother had painted the narrative of my father's death. She claimed he couldn't handle the stress of the business, that his heart was frail, that he had left us vulnerable and she had to step in to save the family.
It was all a lie. He hadn't died of a weak heart. He had died because he was going to expose them.
I waited until Leah’s sister arrived at dawn to sit by her bed. I kissed Leah's forehead, promising I would be back before noon, and walked out of the hospital with Camille Foster by my side.
"Did you trace the number?" I asked Camille as we got into the back of a secure town car.
May you like
"Burner phone," Camille replied, adjusting her glasses. "But the name in the letter gives us a starting point. Leonard Hale. We found an address."
At nine in the morning, Camille and I walked into a quiet, fading diner near Pasadena to meet a ghost.
