Chapter 6 - LOCKER 317
Adrian sent two security officers and a private investigator to Union Station.
My father wanted me to stay at the estate.
I refused.
Rebecca had called me.
She had trusted me with whatever was inside that locker.
I was going.
My father argued for exactly thirty seconds before realizing I had inherited his stubbornness.
We took the second sedan.
Martin came with us.
Lily remained at the estate with the pediatric nurse my father had hired that morning.
Leaving her, even for a few hours, felt awful.
But I reminded myself that uncovering the truth was part of protecting her.
Union Station was crowded when we arrived.
Commuters moved beneath the vaulted ceiling unaware that somewhere among them a terrified former employee might be hiding from people connected to my husband.
Adrian met us near the entrance.
“No sign of Rebecca.”
“Cameras?”
“Transit police are reviewing them.”
“What about the locker?”
“Untouched.”
We reached locker 317.
Adrian examined it before anyone opened it.
No wires.
No obvious tampering.
The digital access code had been sent in a second text from Rebecca’s phone.
I entered it.
The door clicked.
Inside sat a red canvas backpack.
Nothing else.
Adrian removed it carefully and placed it on a nearby bench.
Inside were three things.
A laptop.
A sealed envelope with my name.
And a small black notebook.
My fingers trembled as I picked up the envelope.
The handwriting belonged to Rebecca.
CLAIRE HARLOW MERCER.
Not Claire Mercer.
She had used my full family name.
I opened it.
Claire,
If you are reading this, something happened before I could explain everything.
Do not assume Daniel created this scheme. He is involved, but he is not smart enough to build it.
Northstar is one piece.
Mercer Dynamics is another.
Your mother discovered the earliest piece years ago.
That sentence stopped me.
“My mother?”
My father leaned closer.
I continued reading.
I found old archived compliance files while reviewing Northstar payments. They contain correspondence from Eleanor Harlow.
She believed someone was diverting company assets through shell vendors as early as 2014.
She was investigating privately before she became ill.
The company records say the investigation ended.
It didn’t.
She kept copies.
Ask Arthur about Project Lantern.
I looked at my father.
His face had gone gray.
“What is Project Lantern?”
He did not answer.
“Dad.”
Martin looked at him too.
Arthur lowered himself onto the bench.
“It was your mother’s internal review.”
“You knew.”
“Yes.”
“Thomas knew?”
“Yes.”
“How many people?”
“Four.”
“Who?”
“Your mother. Me. Thomas. And our former general counsel.”
“Why was it closed?”
My father swallowed.
“Eleanor became sick.”
“That didn’t answer the question.”
He stared at the floor.
“We found irregularities, but nothing conclusive.”
“Was Thomas investigated?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“He was helping us.”
I laughed softly.
“Of course he was.”
I returned to the letter.
Rebecca had written one final paragraph.
Do not give the laptop to anyone inside Harlow Industries until you know who can be trusted. Not even your father unless he tells you everything about Lantern.
The notebook contains names.
One of them will surprise you.
I opened the notebook.
Most pages were filled with dates, amounts, company names, and initials.
Northstar.
Falcon Ridge Holdings.
Mercer Dynamics.
Brightwell Consulting.
Then a list of personal names.
Daniel Mercer.
Vanessa Hale.
Thomas Keane.
Two board members.
A lawyer I did not know.
And at the bottom:
Eleanor Harlow.
My stomach dropped.
My father saw it.
“That’s impossible.”
I stared at my mother’s name.
“What does it mean?”
“I don’t know.”
Adrian spoke quietly.
“It could mean she was investigating them.”
“Or involved,” I said.
My father stood sharply.
“No.”
“I’m not accusing her.”
“Your mother would never steal from the company.”
“I know.”
But suddenly I realized how little I actually knew about the final months before her diagnosis.
My parents protected me from the details.
I had been living in Boston.
Working constantly.
Coming home on weekends.
My mother always changed the subject when I asked about work.
I thought she wanted to focus on family.
Maybe she had been protecting me from something else.
Adrian’s phone rang.
He answered.
After listening, he looked at us.
“We found Rebecca.”
Relief hit me.
“Where?”
“Platform level.”
“Is she okay?”
Adrian hesitated.
“She’s unconscious.”
My stomach twisted.
“What happened?”
“Transit police say she collapsed near the service corridor.”
“Ambulance?”
“Already there.”
We rushed downstairs.
Rebecca lay on a stretcher surrounded by paramedics.
She was younger than I expected.
Maybe thirty.
Dark hair.
Pale skin.
A bruise along one cheek.
Her eyes fluttered open as they lifted the stretcher.
She saw me.
“Claire?”
I stepped closer.
“I’m here.”
Her fingers closed weakly around my wrist.
“Did you get it?”
“Yes.”
“The laptop?”
“Yes.”
“Don’t…”
Her eyes drifted toward my father.
Then back to me.
“Don’t connect it to company systems.”
“I won’t.”
“Promise.”
“I promise.”
She released my wrist.
One paramedic stepped between us.
“We need to move.”
I watched them take her away.
Adrian arranged for private security at the hospital.
Then transit police approached.
“Mrs. Mercer?”
“Yes.”
“We reviewed preliminary footage.”
My heart accelerated.
“Did someone attack her?”
“We’re not certain.”
The officer held up a tablet.
The footage showed Rebecca walking quickly through the station.
Then a man appeared behind her.
Baseball cap.
Dark coat.
He followed her toward the service corridor.
The camera angle never showed his face clearly.
But I recognized the way he walked.
My stomach turned.
“No.”
My father looked at me.
“What?”
I pointed at the screen.
“That’s Daniel.”
The officer paused the video.
“You’re certain?”
I stared at the man’s shoulders.
The slight outward turn of his right foot from an old college football injury.
The same coat Daniel wore last winter.
“Yes.”
“That’s my husband.”
My father’s expression became lethal.
Adrian immediately called police contacts.
I looked again at the video.
Daniel disappeared into the corridor thirty seconds after Rebecca.
He emerged six minutes later.
Alone.
Then another person entered the frame.
Vanessa.
She walked from the opposite direction.
She met Daniel near the stairs.
They argued.
Even without sound, it was obvious.
Vanessa shoved him.
Daniel grabbed her arm.
She pulled free.
Then Vanessa looked directly toward the camera.
Her face was terrified.
Not guilty.
Terrified.
I leaned closer.
“She’s afraid of him.”
Adrian nodded.
Then the footage continued.
Vanessa reached into her bag.
She handed Daniel something.
A manila envelope.
Daniel opened it.
His expression changed.
Then he slapped Vanessa across the face.
My father swore under his breath.
Vanessa staggered.
Daniel walked away.
She remained there for several seconds.
Then she removed her phone.
She made a call.
Adrian’s phone rang almost simultaneously.
He looked at the display.
Unknown number.
He answered.
“Cole.”
A woman whispered something.
Adrian’s eyes moved to me.
He put the call on speaker.
Vanessa’s voice filled the station corridor.
“Claire?”
I stared at the phone.
“Yes.”
She was crying.
“I need your help.”
My father frowned.
Vanessa continued.
“Daniel knows I kept copies.”
“Copies of what?”
“Everything.”
I looked toward the paused security footage.
“Where are you?”
“I can’t tell you.”
“Vanessa, did Daniel hurt Rebecca?”
“No.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I did.”
The world seemed to tilt.
“What?”
Vanessa sobbed.
“I didn’t mean to.”
May you like
Then she whispered something even worse.
“And if Rebecca dies, Claire, your father will be next.”
