Chapter 9 - The Man at the Financial Seminar
Daniel Mercer was not a soldier.
He had never served under my command.
He was a civilian consultant who worked with financial education programs, including occasional seminars for military families.
I had met him in April.
He wore expensive suits.
Spoke with easy confidence.
And had the irritating habit of making complicated financial subjects sound simple enough that nobody wanted to question him.
At the seminar, he had discussed estate planning.
Trusts.
Survivor benefits.
Planning for unexpected incapacity.
Ordinary topics.
Useful information.
I remembered complimenting his presentation.
I also remembered something I hadn't understood at the time.
He'd asked whether my daughter had received her full inheritance.
I told him it was held in trust.
He asked whether I was the trustee.
I explained that a professional fiduciary managed it and that I had certain oversight and consent responsibilities.
He had nodded.
Then he'd smiled.
"Smart arrangement."
At the time, it sounded like a compliment.
Now it sounded like research.
Detective Vega listened while I described the conversation.
"Did you give him any account information?"
"No."
"Documents?"
"No."
"Did you mention the institution?"
I thought carefully.
"Possibly."
She waited.
"I may have said Meridian."
Vega wrote it down.
I felt sick.
"That was careless."
"It was a general conversation, Colonel."
"He shouldn't have known."
"Let's establish what he did know before we decide how he used it."
I nodded.
She examined the photograph.
"Do you know why he was at Abby's apartment?"
"No."
"Could he have been visiting someone else?"
"Possible."
"Could you be mistaken?"
I studied the face again.
"No."
She nodded.
"We'll verify it."
I looked at her.
"Detective, if this man had professional access to financial information—"
"We'll investigate any relevant access and preserve the records."
I exhaled.
That was all I could ask.
By Sunday morning, Abby was strong enough to walk slowly down the hospital corridor with assistance.
I walked beside her.
She stopped at a window overlooking the parking garage.
"Mom?"
"Yes?"
"Do you think I'm stupid?"
I stopped.
"Why would you ask me that?"
"Because I believed him."
I looked at her.
"He kept saying he loved me."
Her eyes filled.
"And I thought if I just worked harder, he'd become the person he used to be."
I took her hand.
"Abby, being deceived by someone you love doesn't make you stupid."
She stared outside.
"But I should have left."
"Maybe you wanted to."
"I did."
"What stopped you?"
She gave a painful laugh.
"Everything."
I waited.
"He had my phone."
I nodded.
"My money."
"Yes."
"My keys."
I swallowed.
"And he said if I told you, he'd make sure you lost your command."
My heart stopped.
"What?"
Abby looked at me.
"He said he knew people."
"Who?"
"I don't know."
She looked ashamed.
"He said you were already under investigation."
I stared at her.
"For what?"
"Misusing government resources."
I felt my stomach turn.
"He said if you interfered, he'd send documents showing you had used Army connections to access my trust."
I closed my eyes.
The forged signatures.
The financial seminar.
The suspicious messages.
Someone had tried to make a record of wrongdoing.
Not just to take money.
But to keep me quiet.
I looked at Abby.
"Sweetheart, I wasn't under investigation."
She nodded.
"I know that now."
"Even if someone accused me of something, that would never be a reason for you to stay with a person who hurts you."
A tear slipped down her cheek.
"He said you'd lose everything."
I held her shoulders gently.
"Look at me."
She did.
"Nothing I own is worth your life."
She began crying.
I hugged her.
And for a moment, I felt how thin she had become.
How much weight she had lost.
How much suffering could be hidden beneath a blanket.
That afternoon, Detective Vega called again.
The gray sedan had been traced to a rental company.
The records suggested it had been rented under a business account associated with Haven Ridge.
Daniel Mercer had been listed as an authorized driver.
I gripped the phone.
"So he was there."
"The records support that he had access to the vehicle."
"Can you place him at the apartment?"
"Not conclusively yet."
I exhaled.
"Understood."
She continued.
"We've also learned that Mercer and Vale have a business connection."
"What kind?"
"They both appear in records involving a private consulting partnership."
I looked at the ceiling.
"Haven Ridge?"
"Not directly."
"Then what?"
"A company called Meridian Bridge Advisory."
My stomach dropped.
"Meridian?"
Vega spoke quickly.
"Different organization from the trust administrator."
I closed my eyes.
"All right."
"But the similar name is worth noting."
I stared at the wall.
"How long has that company existed?"
"Three years."
"And Travis?"
"We have evidence of payments to a business associated with him."
I felt sick.
"So this wasn't just Glenda."
"We don't yet know everyone's role."
I looked at Abby through the hospital window.
She was sitting with Naomi.
They were discussing safe housing.
My daughter was learning how to protect herself.
While I was learning how carefully the people around her had worked to remove that protection.
Vega continued.
"There's one more thing."
I waited.
"We have reason to believe Mercer was involved in preparing an assessment report."
"What assessment?"
"One describing Abby's financial and emotional capacity."
I stared at the phone.
"He's not a doctor."
"Correct."
"He's not a psychologist."
"Correct."
"Then what was he assessing?"
"Financial vulnerability, according to the document title."
I closed my eyes.
A financial consultant.
An attorney.
A husband.
A mother-in-law.
Four people.
All helping create the appearance that my daughter couldn't manage her own life.
"What did the report say?"
Vega hesitated.
"I can't share the complete contents yet."
"Just tell me whether it was favorable."
"No."
My stomach dropped.
"It described a young woman unable to exercise independent judgment."
I leaned against the wall.
"And who supplied that information?"
"According to the report, her husband and mother-in-law."
I laughed bitterly.
"Of course."
There was a pause.
Then Vega said, "Colonel, this report is dated July."
I stopped.
"July?"
"Yes."
"Before Abby stopped answering my calls."
"Yes."
"Before most of the injuries."
"Based on what we know, yes."
I closed my eyes.
They hadn't waited for Abby to become vulnerable.
They had begun writing the story before anyone else could see what was happening.
But that evening, Abby revealed something none of us expected.
She asked me to bring her handbag.
I opened it.
Inside were tissues, a hair tie, a nearly empty lip balm, and a folded grocery receipt.
She pointed to the receipt.
"Turn it over."
I did.
On the back, in tiny handwriting, were three dates.
July 18.
August 22.
September 29.
Beside each date was a name.
Mercer.
Vale.
Keene.
I stared at her.
"What is this?"
She swallowed.
"The days they came to the apartment."
I looked up.
"Why did you write them down?"
"Because I couldn't remember everything after the pills."
My throat tightened.
She pointed to the final date.
"That night, they thought I was asleep."
I felt cold.
"What happened?"
"Mercer said the plan was taking too long."
I waited.
"He said Glenda had promised to deliver everything by October."
"Deliver what?"
Abby began shaking.
"I don't know."
"Sweetheart."
She looked at me.
"But Travis said something."
"What?"
"He said the baby couldn't come early."
A chill ran down my spine.
"Why?"
Abby covered her mouth.
"Because they hadn't finished the paperwork."
May you like
I stared at her.
Then she whispered, "Mom, I think they were waiting for something to happen to me."
