Chapter 9 - The Daughter They Erased
Rebecca Sloan called again six minutes later.
Ava answered immediately.
“Mrs. Sloan?”
“No names.”
Rebecca sounded terrified.
“Okay.”
“Crane monitors law enforcement communications.”
“We’re not using department lines.”
“He monitors more than that.”
Ava looked toward Naomi.
“Where are you?”
Rebecca gave an address.
A rural church thirty miles north.
“Come alone.”
“I can’t do that.”
“Then my daughter dies.”
Ava’s jaw tightened.
“I’m not bringing police.”
“That isn’t what I said.”
Ava understood.
Rebecca didn’t trust Naomi.
Or Marcus.
Or Patrick.
Probably with good reason.
“I’ll come.”
Naomi immediately shook her head.
Ava ended the call.
“No.”
“Ava—”
“She will run if she sees you.”
“And Crane could be waiting.”
“Then follow from a distance.”
Naomi stared.
“You said alone.”
“I’m lying.”
For the first time all day, Naomi smiled.
“Good.”
The abandoned church sat beside a two-lane road surrounded by cornfields.
Ava entered through the side door.
Rebecca Sloan stood near the altar.
She looked nothing like the polished woman from charity photographs.
No makeup.
Hair tied back.
Oversized coat.
Beside her stood a woman around twenty-eight.
Dark hair.
Sharp eyes.
Ava immediately saw something familiar.
Victor Crane.
Not his face exactly.
Something colder.
More watchful.
Rebecca said, “This is Claire.”
Claire stared at Ava.
“You’re the detective on television.”
“Yes.”
“They say you shot a police officer.”
“They say many things.”
Claire almost smiled.
Rebecca stepped closer.
“Raymond believes Claire died as an infant.”
“Why?”
“Because I told him.”
Ava frowned.
“Raymond wasn’t her father?”
Rebecca shook her head.
“When I was twenty-two, I worked for Crane.”
“What kind of work?”
“Bookkeeping.”
Ava looked at Claire.
“And Crane…”
Rebecca nodded.
“One night became a mistake that lasted the rest of my life.”
Claire’s expression didn’t change.
She had clearly heard the story before.
“Raymond knew?”
“He suspected.”
“Why marry him?”
“I was already married.”
Ava stared.
Rebecca continued.
“Raymond worked for Crane. He knew I handled money.”
“So Claire was born during your marriage.”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
“Crane discovered I was pregnant. He became obsessed with having an heir.”
Claire laughed bitterly.
“Very normal family.”
Rebecca squeezed her daughter’s hand.
“I knew what he was.”
“So you faked Claire’s death.”
“With help.”
“Whose?”
Rebecca looked at Ava.
“Your father.”
Ava froze.
“Daniel?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“He arranged a false hospital record.”
Ava almost laughed from shock.
Her father’s secret life seemed endless.
“Why would he risk that?”
“Because he knew Crane would turn her into leverage.”
Rebecca continued.
“I gave Daniel access to Crane’s accounts in return.”
Ava understood.
“That’s how Dad got the financial records.”
“Yes.”
“And Sloan learned about it.”
“Not immediately.”
“When?”
“The night Daniel died.”
Ava’s heart hardened.
Rebecca reached into her coat.
She handed Ava a small envelope.
Inside was a photograph of Raymond Sloan holding a pistol beside Daniel Mercer’s car.
Date-stamped.
Ava’s hands began shaking.
“Who took this?”
“Me.”
“You were there?”
“From a distance.”
“You saw my father die?”
Rebecca’s eyes filled.
“Yes.”
Ava stepped back.
The church seemed to tilt.
“Tell me.”
“Raymond confronted Daniel.”
“Why?”
“He believed Daniel had records proving Raymond stole from Crane.”
“Did Dad?”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
“They argued.”
“Then?”
“Daniel said he would turn Raymond in.”
Ava could barely breathe.
Rebecca whispered:
“Raymond shot him.”
One shot.
Chest.
Daniel fell.
Rebecca covered her mouth.
“Then Raymond called Crane and said Daniel attacked him.”
Ava’s eyes burned.
“Crane believed him?”
“At first.”
“What about Malcolm?”
“He arrived later.”
Ava suddenly understood the rest.
Malcolm found Daniel dead.
Knew the network was compromised.
Took the ledger and hid it.
Then spent nineteen years carrying guilt.
Rebecca handed Ava another item.
A key.
“Safety deposit box.”
“What’s inside?”
“Raymond’s private ledger.”
Ava stared.
“You have it?”
“A copy.”
“Why didn’t you come forward?”
Rebecca almost laughed.
“To who?”
Ava had no answer.
“The chief?”
“Malcolm was compromised.”
“State police?”
“Crane had contacts.”
“Federal?”
“Same problem.”
“So you waited.”
“I raised Claire.”
Ava looked at the young woman.
Claire said, “Mom told me my father was dead.”
Rebecca looked ashamed.
“Biologically, I wish he were.”
Claire’s voice softened.
“I know.”
Ava closed her hand around the key.
“Which bank?”
“Northbridge Federal Trust.”
“Box number?”
“901.”
Ava stopped.
“That’s Crane’s old bank.”
Rebecca nodded.
“He owns part of it through shell companies.”
“Then why put evidence there?”
“Because Raymond thinks nobody knows about the account.”
Ava looked toward the windows.
“Crane might.”
Rebecca’s face changed.
A car engine sounded outside.
Claire whispered, “We didn’t bring anyone.”
Ava drew her weapon.
Several vehicles pulled onto the gravel.
Naomi’s voice sounded through Ava’s earpiece.
“Three SUVs. Armed occupants.”
Ava said, “Rebecca, back door.”
Rebecca shook her head.
“No.”
“What?”
“This is what happens every time I run.”
“Today you run successfully.”
Claire grabbed her mother.
“Come on.”
Gunfire shattered the church window.
Ava pushed them behind the altar.
Naomi’s team engaged outside.
Bullets struck pews.
Wood exploded.
Rebecca screamed.
Ava fired through the broken side window.
One attacker dropped his weapon and retreated.
Claire noticed something near the front entrance.
A gasoline canister.
“They’re going to burn it!”
Ava smelled fuel.
Flames appeared.
Smoke climbed the wall.
“Back!”
They ran toward the rear vestry.
The door was chained from outside.
Ava fired at the lock.
Nothing.
Claire grabbed a heavy brass candle stand.
Together they smashed the window.
Smoke filled the room.
Ava helped Rebecca through.
Claire followed.
They landed behind the church.
Naomi pulled them behind an armored vehicle.
The fire spread quickly.
Within minutes the old church was engulfed.
Three attackers were arrested.
Two escaped.
One burned inside.
Ava watched flames consume the roof.
Rebecca stared too.
“That was Raymond.”
“How do you know?”
“Crane doesn’t use fire.”
Ava looked at her.
“Why?”
Rebecca’s voice became quiet.
“He hates it.”
“Reason?”
“His wife died in a house fire forty years ago.”
Ava stored that detail.
People always had weaknesses.
Even monsters.
Naomi walked over.
“We identified one attacker.”
“Who?”
“Officer from Sloan’s executive protection unit.”
Rebecca closed her eyes.
“My husband.”
Ava said, “He knows you talked.”
Rebecca nodded.
“He knows about the box.”
Marcus arrived thirty minutes later with federal marshals.
Ava gave him the key.
“We move now.”
Northbridge Federal Trust closed at five.
At 4:52, Marcus secured a sealed warrant.
Bank management fought it.
Then surrendered.
Box 901 was opened at 6:13 p.m.
Inside was a leather notebook.
Raymond Sloan’s ledger.
Names.
Dates.
Payments.
Kill orders.
And photographs.
Ava flipped through the pages.
Then stopped.
A recent entry.
A.M.—REMOVE BEFORE 09/07.
Ava Mercer.
Beside it was a payment.
$250,000.
Recipient initials:
P.M.
Ava’s blood went cold.
Patrick Mercer.
Naomi whispered, “No.”
Ava looked at the date.
Three days ago.
Her uncle had been paid a quarter million dollars to remove her.
Ava grabbed her phone.
Patrick’s location tracker was offline.
She called.
No answer.
Again.
Nothing.
Then a message appeared.
From Patrick.
I’M SORRY.
Ava felt tears rise.
A second message.
I CAN FINALLY FIX WHAT I DID TO YOUR FATHER.
Then a photograph.
Patrick standing outside a warehouse.
Beside him was Victor Crane.
Ava zoomed in.
Patrick’s hands were bound.
The final text arrived.
DON’T COME FOR ME.
Ava stared at the screen.
Then Naomi pointed at the photo.
“Look at the window.”
A reflection.
Another man stood inside the warehouse.
Raymond Sloan.
Ava understood.
Patrick hadn’t taken the money.
Sloan had framed him.
And now all three men connected to Daniel Mercer’s death were finally in the same place.
Crane.
Sloan.
Patrick.
May you like
Ava looked at Naomi.
“We end this tonight.”
