Chapter 5
I stared at Rachel until her face blurred.
"You've spoken to my father?"
She nodded.
"Recently?"
Another nod.
I wanted to stand.
I wanted to scream.
Instead I sat frozen in a hospital wheelchair while my incision burned and the machines in the hallway hummed as if the world had not just shifted beneath me.
"How long?"
Rachel wiped her face.
"Clara—"
"How long have you known he was alive?"
"Eight months."
My breath left me.
Eight months.
During my pregnancy.
During baby shopping.
During every late-night conversation when I told Rachel how scared I was that Julian was pulling away.
She had known.
"Eight months."
"I wanted to tell you."
"But you didn't."
"He made me promise."
I laughed once.
It sounded broken.
"My dead father made you promise?"
Dana stepped between us slightly.
"Rachel, before this goes further, I need you to understand that drive may contain evidence."
"I know."
"You removed it from a location subject to a federal investigation."
"I removed it before the raid."
"That does not make this simple."
Rachel nodded.
"I'll cooperate."
Dana held out an evidence bag.
"Put it inside."
Rachel did.
I watched the red drive disappear behind clear plastic.
My father.
All my childhood memories came back at once.
His hands guiding mine on bicycle handlebars.
Pancakes every Sunday.
The ridiculous songs he invented while washing dishes.
The last morning I saw him.
He kissed my forehead.
Told me he was going to meet Arthur about "a business problem."
He never returned.
My mother stood beside the kitchen phone for three days.
Then police told us his boat had been found drifting offshore.
Blood on the deck.
No body.
Everyone assumed the ocean had taken him.
My mother stopped sleeping.
Two years later, she died from an aneurysm.
I had buried both parents before I turned twenty.
Except apparently I hadn't.
"Why did he fake his death?"
Rachel shook her head.
"I don't know the whole story."
"You talked to him for eight months."
"He refused to explain everything."
"Where is he?"
"I don't know."
"Stop lying to me."
"I'm not."
My voice rose.
"You knew he was alive."
"I found out by accident."
"How?"
Rachel looked at Dana.
Dana nodded.
"Tell her."
Rachel sat.
"Last December, I got a message at my law office."
Rachel worked as a civil attorney.
She had spent most of her career handling business disputes and employment cases.
"A man wanted advice about an old property trust. He wouldn't give his real name. I ignored it."
"And?"
"He sent another message with a photograph of us."
"Us?"
"You and me. Summer after your sophomore year."
I remembered.
We were sixteen and fifteen.
Our families rented a lake cabin.
"Only family had that picture."
"Exactly."
"So you met him."
"At a church outside Raleigh."
"Why there?"
"He chose it."
"What did he look like?"
"Older. Thin. Beard."
"The man in Arthur's photograph?"
"Yes."
My eyes burned.
"Did he ask about me?"
"Immediately."
"What did you tell him?"
"That you were married. Pregnant. That you were happy."
I nearly laughed.
Happy.
"He cried."
That hurt more than anger would have.
"Did he ask to see me?"
Rachel looked down.
"No."
The word landed like a second abandonment.
"Why?"
"He said getting close to you would put you in danger."
"I'm already in danger."
"He knew Arthur was watching him."
"Then why contact you?"
"He needed help getting evidence."
"The drive."
"Yes."
Dana interrupted.
"What did he tell you was on it?"
"Records tying Arthur Vance to Project Harbor."
"What is that?"
"I don't know."
"Rachel."
"I'm serious. He never explained."
I watched her.
She was telling the truth.
At least about that.
"He gave me Arthur's safe combination."
My stomach dropped.
"How did you get into the house?"
"You gave me a key years ago."
The betrayal sharpened.
"You went into my home while I was sleeping?"
"Arthur's home. After the charity dinner three nights ago. Everyone was downstairs."
"You could have been caught."
"I know."
"You could have warned me."
"I know."
I hated how often she said that.
Dana lifted the evidence bag.
"We need to examine this immediately."
"Can I see what's on it?"
"If it can be safely accessed and if doing so won't compromise the investigation, I'll tell you what I can."
"No."
She looked at me.
"I am done being protected with half-truths."
"Clara—"
"My father stole seventeen years from me because he thought secrecy would protect me. Rachel stole eight months. Julian stole my name. Arthur stole whatever he could reach. Everyone keeps deciding what I am allowed to know."
Dana stayed quiet.
I pointed at the drive.
"If that contains the reason my father abandoned me, I want to see it."
She studied me.
Then nodded once.
"I'll do what I legally can."
It took federal technicians three hours.
Those hours were torture.
I sat beside Noah.
Held his tiny hand.
Watched his oxygen numbers.
Tried not to imagine my father somewhere in the same country, maybe knowing I had almost died.
At six that evening, Dr. Bennett came into the NICU.
"He's doing well."
I looked up.
"Really?"
"Better than we expected. Still premature, still needs monitoring, but I'm encouraged."
For the first time that day, I smiled without forcing it.
"Can I hold him?"
"Tomorrow, if his respiratory support continues improving."
Tomorrow.
One beautiful ordinary word.
I touched Noah's foot.
"I'll be here."
My phone vibrated.
Dana.
I met her in my room.
Two agents stood outside.
Rachel had been temporarily separated for questioning.
Dana closed the door.
"The drive is encrypted, but we recovered several files."
"And?"
"Clara, some of this concerns an ongoing criminal investigation."
"Tell me what concerns my father."
She hesitated.
Then placed three printed photographs on the table.
My father.
Arthur.
Marcus Hale.
The missing CFO.
All three standing beside shipping containers at a port.
Dates ranged across eighteen years.
"Project Harbor began as a logistics company," Dana said.
"Legitimate?"
"Initially."
"What changed?"
"It became a way to move money through international cargo contracts. False invoices. Inflated shipping costs. Bribes."
"So Arthur and my father were partners?"
"Yes."
I closed my eyes.
My father had been involved.
The hero in my memories cracked.
Dana continued carefully.
"Your father appears to have discovered Arthur was using Harbor to move much more than business funds."
"What?"
"We're still reviewing."
"Illegal goods?"
"We don't know enough yet."
"Then what do you know?"
Dana placed another document in front of me.
It was a letter.
Typed.
But signed by my father.
Daniel Mercer.
I recognized the signature immediately.
The date was two days before his disappearance.
I read the first paragraph.
Arthur,
I will not let you use Clara as leverage again.
My hands started shaking.
"Again?"
Dana nodded.
"Keep reading."
I did.
You promised my family would remain outside our business. That promise ended when you approached my daughter at school. If anything happens to her or Ellen, copies of every Harbor file will go to authorities.
I couldn't breathe.
Arthur had approached me?
At school?
I searched my memory.
Then I remembered a man standing beside a black sedan when I was seventeen.
He had asked if I was Daniel Mercer's daughter.
I said yes.
He gave me a card and told me to ask my father whether loyalty still mattered.
I never told anyone.
I thought it was a strange business message.
That man had been Arthur.
Before the silver hair.
Before I knew his face.
"Oh my God."
Dana pointed to the final paragraph.
I read.
If you want the originals, meet me at the marina Friday. Alone. After that, I am taking my family and leaving.
Friday.
The day my father disappeared.
I looked up.
"Arthur tried to kill him."
"We don't know that."
"His boat had blood on it."
"Yes."
"Arthur was the last person to meet him."
"Likely."
"You think my father survived."
"Clearly."
"But he left us anyway."
Dana didn't answer.
That was the question evidence couldn't solve.
A knock came.
An agent leaned inside.
"Pierce."
Dana stepped into the hall.
I heard whispers.
Then silence.
Dana returned.
Her expression was different.
"What happened?"
"Local police found Julian's car."
"Where?"
"Parking garage near the train station."
"Was he there?"
"No."
"Anything inside?"
"Blood."
My chest tightened.
"Whose?"
"We don't know yet."
"Is he hurt?"
Dana studied me.
Despite everything, the question had escaped too quickly.
Julian was my husband.
The man I had loved for nine years.
Hatred does not erase history in one afternoon.
Dana seemed to understand.
"We don't know."
My phone rang.
Unknown number again.
Dana immediately held out her hand.
"Give me the phone."
I looked at the screen.
"No."
"Clara."
"It may be Julian."
"Exactly."
I answered and placed it on speaker.
"Julian?"
Silence.
Then a man's voice.
Older.
Unsteady.
"Clara?"
My heart stopped.
I knew that voice.
Not because I had heard it recently.
Because somewhere inside me, seventeen-year-old Clara had kept it alive.
"Dad?"
No one in the room moved.
The man on the line began crying.
"Oh, sweetheart."
I covered my mouth.
Dana's eyes widened.
I couldn't speak.
"Clara, listen to me."
My tears came fast.
"You're alive."
"I know."
"You're alive."
"I'm sorry."
"You let me bury you."
"I know."
"You let Mom die thinking you were dead."
Silence.
Then he whispered, "I know."
Anger exploded through the grief.
"Don't say that!"
"Clara—"
"Where are you?"
"I can't tell you."
I laughed through tears.
"Of course you can't."
"You need to leave the hospital."
I froze.
"What?"
"Take the baby and leave."
"He's in intensive care."
"Then get security around him."
Dana signaled to the agent outside.
"What happened?" I asked.
My father's breathing became rough.
"Arthur didn't create that account in your name."
"Then who did?"
"Marcus."
"Why?"
"Because Marcus is cleaning up everything before he disappears."
"Where's Julian?"
Silence.
"Dad?"
"I found him."
"Is he alive?"
"For now."
My heart pounded.
"What does that mean?"
Then another sound came through the phone.
A door slamming.
My father cursed.
"Clara, listen carefully. Do not trust anyone from Vance Holdings. Not security. Not the lawyers. Nobody."
"Where are you?"
"I love you."
"Dad!"
The call cut.
Dana was already shouting orders.
Agents moved.
Hospital security was alerted.
Noah's room was placed under protection.
I sat frozen.
My father was alive.
He had Julian.
Or had found Julian.
Marcus was apparently still moving money.
Everything was tangled.
Then Rachel entered with an agent.
She saw my face.
"What happened?"
"My father called."
Rachel stopped.
"What did he say?"
I stared at her.
"That Marcus created the account."
She looked relieved.
I wasn't.
"And he told me not to trust anyone."
Rachel slowly nodded.
"That's smart."
"He said anyone."
Her expression changed.
Before either of us could speak, alarms sounded down the hall.
Not Noah's monitor.
A hospital security alarm.
Dana stepped into the doorway.
An agent shouted from the corridor.
"We've got a breach near neonatal!"
I was out of bed before anyone could stop me.
Pain tore through my stitches.
I nearly fell.
Rachel grabbed me.
"Clara!"
"Noah."
Dana ran toward the NICU.
I followed, one hand against my abdomen.
Doctors and nurses were moving away from a side entrance.
A security guard lay on the floor, conscious but bleeding from the forehead.
"What happened?" Dana demanded.
"He hit me."
"Who?"
The guard pointed toward the stairwell.
"Man in hospital scrubs."
My blood turned cold.
Dana ran for the stairs.
I pushed toward Noah's room.
A nurse blocked me.
"Mrs. Vance—"
"My baby!"
"He's safe."
"Let me see him!"
She moved aside.
Noah lay exactly where I had left him.
Tiny chest rising.
Tiny hand curled.
Alive.
I sagged against the wall.
Then I noticed something.
A small stuffed bear sat beside the incubator.
It had not been there before.
"What is that?"
The nurse frowned.
"I don't know."
Dana returned just as I pointed.
"No one touches it."
An agent examined it.
A minute later, he carefully opened a seam.
Inside was a cheap prepaid phone.
It began ringing.
Nobody moved.
Dana answered on speaker.
A distorted voice filled the room.
"Mrs. Vance."
I stared at the phone.
"Who is this?"
"If you want Julian returned alive, bring us the red drive."
I looked through the glass at Noah.
The voice continued.
"Come alone."
Dana shook her head violently.
I ignored her.
"Where?"
The caller laughed.
May you like
"Your father knows."
Then the line went dead.
