Chapter 15 - The Last Night of Rebecca Mercer
Daniel reconstructed Rebecca’s final evening minute by minute.
7:10 p.m.
Rebecca arrived home.
7:42.
She entered the greenhouse.
8:06.
Charles arrived secretly.
8:51.
He left.
9:15.
Nora prepared tea.
9:22.
Rebecca took it upstairs.
9:47.
She called Thomas.
10:14.
She called Owen.
10:21.
She left the estate.
10:32.
Her vehicle crashed.
Daniel asked the obvious question.
“Who saw her between 9:22 and 10:21?”
Nobody.
Security footage from that night had been corrupted.
Just like the west hallway footage now.
Daniel sat in the dining room.
The same room where his cup had shattered.
Then Lily walked in.
She climbed onto the chair beside him.
“Are you sad?”
“Yes.”
“Because of Mom?”
“Yes.”
Lily leaned against him.
Daniel looked at the broken-cup stain technicians had not yet fully removed from the marble.
“Do you remember the night Mom died?”
Lily was four.
He expected nothing.
But she nodded.
“She came into my room.”
Daniel’s breath caught.
“What did she say?”
“She kissed me.”
“What else?”
Lily frowned.
“She said if Daddy ever gets sleepy at dinner, find Nora.”
Daniel froze.
“What?”
“She said it like a joke.”
“Exact words.”
Lily thought carefully.
“‘If Daddy ever starts acting sleepy when he shouldn’t, you find Nora and make noise.’”
Daniel’s heart pounded.
Rebecca had predicted this.
Years before.
She knew Daniel might someday be drugged.
“Anything else?”
Lily nodded.
“She gave me something.”
“What?”
“A little necklace.”
Daniel had never seen it.
“Where is it?”
Lily shrugged.
“In my old bear.”
They opened a stuffed bear stored in her closet.
Inside a stitched pocket was a tiny key.
Not brass.
Steel.
Numbered 204.
A bank deposit key.
Owen traced it.
The bank branch was downtown.
Box 204 had been rented by Rebecca under her maiden name.
Inside were two items.
A sealed medical report.
And a handwritten confession.
Not Rebecca’s.
Richard’s.
Daniel stared.
Dated two years before Rebecca’s death.
Richard had known about Blackwood long before he claimed.
The confession described receiving payments from an unnamed Mercer family member.
Not for gambling debts.
For information.
Schedules.
Accounts.
Access to Daniel’s house.
Claire sat down heavily.
“He was working for Shepherd before Rebecca died.”
Daniel nodded.
Owen continued reading.
Then found another line.
If anything happens to Rebecca, look at the lake house.
The Whitmore lake house.
Claire and Richard’s property.
Police searched it.
In a locked basement cabinet they found old recording equipment.
Files.
Burner phones.
And surveillance photos of Rebecca.
One image showed her meeting Robert Mercer.
Alive.
Three days before her death.
Daniel stared at Robert.
Same man from the old photo.
Older.
But unmistakable.
Richard had lied again.
They found Richard at the Mercer estate before police could arrest him.
He was in Claire’s bedroom.
Packing.
Daniel entered first.
Richard looked at him.
“It isn’t what you think.”
Daniel almost laughed.
“That sentence has become very popular.”
Claire entered.
She held the confession.
Richard’s face collapsed.
“You found the box.”
“You worked for Robert.”
“Yes.”
“For years.”
“Yes.”
“You spied on Rebecca.”
Richard nodded.
Claire’s voice broke.
“Did you help kill her?”
“No.”
“You knew they were drugging her.”
“No.”
Daniel stepped closer.
“Did you put something in her tea?”
Richard shook his head violently.
“No.”
“Who did?”
“I don’t know.”
“You were watching her.”
“Yes.”
“You knew Robert met her.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“She confronted him.”
“About Shepherd?”
“Yes.”
“Was Robert Shepherd?”
Richard looked almost amused.
“No.”
Daniel stopped.
“What?”
“Robert wanted you to think he was.”
Claire whispered, “Then who is?”
Richard looked at her with unbearable sadness.
“You.”
Claire didn’t move.
Daniel stared.
Richard continued.
“Not knowingly.”
Claire’s face drained.
“What does that mean?”
Richard opened his suitcase.
He removed a folder.
Inside were authorizations.
Dozens.
All signed by Claire Mercer Whitmore.
Foundation transfers.
Research payments.
Aster contracts.
Offshore accounts.
Claire shook her head.
“I never signed these.”
Richard said softly, “Some you did.”
“No.”
“You thought they were hospital grants.”
Claire stared.
Richard continued.
“Thomas’s office inserted them into larger packages.”
Daniel looked toward Claire.
“You funded Blackwood.”
Her eyes filled with tears.
“I didn’t know.”
Richard nodded.
“I know.”
“Then why say I’m Shepherd?”
“Because Shepherd isn’t a person.”
Silence.
Richard looked at Daniel.
“It’s a system.”
Daniel frowned.
Richard explained.
A network of contracts.
Trust triggers.
Foundation accounts.
Medical databases.
Automation.
Successors.
Compartmentalized roles.
No single person controlled everything.
Samuel Hart designed it that way.
When one participant died, authority shifted automatically.
“That’s why you can’t find the leader,” Richard said.
“There isn’t one.”
Daniel looked at him.
“Then who sent the message?”
Richard’s expression darkened.
“Someone trying to take control of Shepherd.”
“Robert.”
“No.”
“Who?”
Before Richard answered, the windows exploded inward.
Everyone dropped.
A bullet buried itself in the wall.
Security shouted.
Daniel covered Claire.
Richard collapsed beside the bed.
Blood spread across his shoulder.
He grabbed Daniel’s sleeve.
“There is one person who knows the whole system.”
“Who?”
Richard struggled to breathe.
“The child.”
Daniel froze.
“Lily?”
Richard shook his head.
“No.”
He looked toward Michael.
“His daughter.”
Michael’s daughter.
May you like
Ava.
---
