Chapter 11 - THE MAN ON TELEVISION
Senator Charles Merrick was everywhere.
Television.
Newspapers.
Billboards.
He smiled beside factory workers.
He talked about families.
He gave speeches about protecting working Americans.
Mom watched one from Elena’s bakery the morning after Grandpa was shot.
He survived.
Barely.
Doctors placed him in a medically induced coma under police protection.
On television, Merrick stood behind a podium.
“Hardworking Americans deserve leaders who respect every dollar they earn.”
Mom laughed.
Then threw the remote.
It broke against the wall.
Elena raised an eyebrow.
“That was a good remote.”
“I’ll replace it.”
“With what? Sterling still hasn’t paid you.”
Mom stared at her.
Then they both started laughing.
It wasn’t happy laughter.
It was exhausted laughter.
Vincent entered.
He looked at the broken remote.
“Should I ask?”
“No.”
“Good.”
Bell followed him.
Behind Bell came a woman in a gray suit.
She introduced herself as Special Agent Rebecca Sloan.
Federal Bureau of Investigation.
Mom crossed her arms.
“Another person with a badge.”
Sloan didn’t take offense.
“Reasonable reaction.”
Vincent almost smiled.
Sloan placed several folders on the table.
“We’ve authenticated portions of Daniel Carter’s archive.”
Mom looked at her.
“How much?”
“Enough to open federal investigations into fraud, bribery, money laundering, obstruction and conspiracy.”
“And Merrick?”
Sloan paused.
“We need more.”
Mom laughed bitterly.
“My husband died.”
“I know.”
“My father-in-law was shot.”
“I know.”
“My daughter has been hunted.”
Sloan looked at me.
“I know.”
“Then what exactly counts as more?”
Sloan opened a file.
“The transfers connect to companies that donated to Merrick-aligned organizations. That alone doesn’t prove he knew the source.”
Vincent said, “Daniel had beneficiaries.”
“Yes.”
“Missing section?”
“Yes.”
“Grandpa said someone took it,” I announced.
Sloan looked at me.
Mom sighed.
“She listens.”
“I notice everything.”
Sloan nodded solemnly.
“I’ve heard.”
She showed us a photograph of Daniel’s car after the crash.
The vehicle was crushed.
But investigators had recently reexamined archived evidence.
One object was missing from the inventory.
Daniel’s wedding ring.
Mom stared at the page.
“That ring was returned to me.”
Sloan looked up.
“What?”
“I have it.”
“Where?”
Mom froze.
Our apartment.
The apartment Voss’s people had searched.
Vincent immediately called his team.
Twenty minutes later, someone entered the apartment.
The ring was gone.
Mom sat down.
“No.”
Sloan looked at Vincent.
“Who knew about it?”
“Voss’s people searched the apartment before we knew the significance.”
“But why take a wedding ring?”
Mom stared at the floor.
Then she whispered, “It wasn’t his real ring.”
Everyone stopped.
“What?” Sloan asked.
“Daniel lost his original band at work when Rory was six months old.”
Mom looked at me.
“He bought a replacement.”
“And the ring returned after the crash?”
“The original.”
Vincent’s expression sharpened.
“So someone put it on him.”
Mom nodded.
“I thought maybe he found it.”
Sloan sat forward.
“Where did he lose the first ring?”
Mom thought.
“An audit site.”
“Which company?”
She closed her eyes.
“Merrick Urban Development.”
Nobody spoke.
Senator Merrick’s family owned construction companies before he entered politics.
Daniel had lost his wedding ring at one of their project offices.
Sloan’s expression became grim.
“If that ring reappeared on Daniel after his death, someone from the Merrick project may have had it.”
Bell asked, “Why place it on him?”
“To send a message,” Vincent said.
Mom looked sick.
“A message to who?”
“To Thomas.”
Grandpa.
Daniel’s father.
The man who knew where Daniel lost the ring.
The message was simple.
We know where your son has been.
We know what he found.
Keep quiet.
And he did.
For years.
Sloan opened another folder.
“There’s one more problem.”
Mom looked exhausted.
“Of course there is.”
“Someone has been accessing sealed investigative files since last night.”
Bell frowned.
“Who?”
“We don’t know.”
“Federal credentials?”
“Yes.”
Vincent’s face hardened.
“Merrick has people inside your agency.”
Sloan didn’t deny it.
Mom looked around.
“So where do we go?”
Sloan said, “You and Rory enter federal protective custody.”
Vincent said, “No.”
Mom turned.
“You don’t decide.”
“I’m aware.”
“Then why say no?”
“Because whoever accessed those records would know exactly where federal witnesses are moved.”
Sloan stiffened.
“Our program—”
“Has a leak.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Neither do you.”
Mom rubbed her forehead.
“I cannot keep doing this.”
I climbed onto the chair beside her.
She put her arm around me.
“I want pancakes.”
Everyone looked at me.
“What?”
“I’m hungry.”
Mom’s face changed.
That simple sentence broke something in her.
For eleven weeks, food had been a calculation.
How much bread.
How much milk.
Whether Mom could pretend she ate at work.
Whether I believed her.
Vincent looked toward Elena.
“Pancakes?”
Elena nodded.
“Absolutely.”
Sloan looked confused.
Vincent said, “This meeting can wait ten minutes.”
It was the first normal breakfast we had in months.
I ate three pancakes.
Mom ate two.
Vincent drank coffee.
Bell stole bacon from my plate and returned it when I glared at him.
Then Sloan’s phone rang.
She answered.
Her face changed.
“What?”
She stood.
“When?”
Vincent put down his cup.
Sloan ended the call.
“Senator Merrick is holding a press conference.”
“That’s not unusual,” Bell said.
“He’s addressing the Chicago corruption investigation.”
Mom stared.
“How does he know about it?”
Sloan turned on the television.
Merrick appeared behind a podium.
Reporters shouted questions.
He raised a hand.
“I have recently learned that criminals operating in Chicago may attempt to falsely connect my family’s businesses to illegal financial activity.”
Vincent’s eyes narrowed.
“That was fast.”
Merrick continued.
“These allegations appear to originate from manipulated records created by a deceased accountant with a documented history of financial misconduct.”
Mom stood.
“No.”
On screen appeared Daniel’s photograph.
My father.
Merrick continued.
“Daniel Carter was investigated for embezzlement shortly before his tragic death.”
Mom stared at Sloan.
“Was he?”
“No.”
“He’s lying.”
“Yes.”
Merrick wasn’t finished.
“Unfortunately, Mr. Carter’s widow now appears to be cooperating with known organized crime figures in an attempt to extort public officials.”
Then Mom’s photograph appeared.
Then mine.
My preschool picture.
My yellow dress.
My smile.
Mom stopped breathing.
Merrick looked directly into the cameras.
“I ask the public not to harass Ms. Carter or her young daughter. They may themselves be victims of coercion.”
Vincent whispered, “Smart.”
Mom turned on him.
“He put my child on television.”
“He made you radioactive.”
“What does that mean?”
“He told the entire country you’re connected to me.”
Sloan understood.
“Merrick is discrediting any evidence before it becomes public.”
“And isolating Megan,” Bell said.
Vincent nodded.
“If she disappears now, people assume she ran.”
Mom stared at the television.
Then Merrick delivered the final blow.
“My campaign will cooperate fully with any legitimate investigation.”
He paused.
“However, I will not allow mobsters to threaten American democracy.”
The reporters erupted.
Mom turned off the television.
Nobody spoke.
Then my small voice filled the room.
“He’s scared.”
Everyone looked at me.
Mom blinked.
“What?”
“Mr. Sterling looked like that when Vincent had the paper.”
Vincent stared at me.
I pointed toward the black screen.
“He talks more when he’s scared.”
Bell slowly smiled.
Sloan looked thoughtful.
Mom looked at me.
Then she looked at Vincent.
“What scares a man like Charles Merrick?”
Vincent leaned back.
“The truth.”
Mom shook her head.
“No.”
Something new had entered her voice.
“He already knows the truth exists.”
She looked at Sloan.
“What scares him is people believing it.”
May you like
That was the moment my mother stopped trying to survive Charles Merrick.
And decided to fight him.
