Chapter 5 - THE MAN THEY BLAMED
His name was Daniel Mercer.
Five years earlier, everyone had called him a traitor.
The investigation had concluded that Mercer had leaked operational information.
His death during the attack had conveniently ended the interrogation.
The case was closed.
Except it wasn't.
Not to General Whitmore.
And apparently not to my grandmother.
I spent the next several hours going through the files.
There were inconsistencies everywhere.
Bank transfers.
Phone records.
Property purchases.
Travel dates.
My father had met Mercer twice before the operation.
Both meetings had been omitted from the official investigation.
“Why?” I asked.
Whitmore folded his hands.
“Because the records were removed.”
“By whom?”
“We never determined that.”
“You're telling me someone erased evidence from a military investigation?”
“Yes.”
“And my father was connected to the missing evidence.”
“Yes.”
I stood.
“I need to confront him.”
Whitmore shook his head.
“Not yet.”
“Why?”
“Because you don't know what he's capable of.”
“He's my father.”
“That doesn't answer my question.”
I looked away.
The hardest part wasn't discovering that my father might have committed a crime.
It was realizing how many times my grandmother had tried to warn me.
How many times I had ignored her.
How many times she had told me:
Don't trust everyone who calls themselves family.
At 6:12 p.m., I received a video.
It was from Tiffany.
I opened it.
She was sitting alone in her bedroom.
Her face was swollen from crying.
“Elena, I don't know if you're going to believe me.”
I kept watching.
“Dad told me you weren't coming back.”
She swallowed.
“He said you had disappeared because you were ashamed of the family.”
My jaw tightened.
“But that's not why.”
She looked directly into the camera.
“He was afraid you'd find out what Grandma left you.”
I stopped the video.
Whitmore watched me.
“Continue.”
I pressed play.
Tiffany continued.
“Mom knew. Brad knew. I knew part of it.”
She wiped her face.
“I didn't understand how serious it was.”
“What did you know?” I whispered, even though she couldn't hear me.
The video continued.
“Dad used Grandma's property to hide money.”
My chest tightened.
“He said it was temporary.”
Tiffany looked toward her bedroom door.
“Then Grandma found out.”
The video suddenly stopped.
I checked the file.
It had been deliberately cut.
A second video appeared.
This one was only eight seconds long.
Tiffany was whispering.
“He knows you're watching.”
Then the screen went black.
Whitmore immediately stood.
“We need to move.”
“What?”
“Now.”
“Why?”
He pointed toward the window.
A black SUV had stopped across the street.
Then another.
My blood ran cold.
We left through the rear entrance.
As we reached the parking lot, I heard a gunshot.
Nobody was hit.
But the message was clear.
Someone wanted us afraid.
Whitmore pulled me behind a concrete barrier.
“Stay down.”
I reached for my weapon.
He looked at me.
“Don't.”
I stared at him.
“Sir—”
“Not unless I tell you.”
Another shot.
Then silence.
Military police arrived within minutes.
The SUVs were gone.
But one thing had been left behind.
A white envelope.
My name was written on it.
Inside was a photograph.
Tiffany.
Brad.
My father.
And Daniel Mercer.
Standing together.
The photograph had been taken two days before my deployment.
On the back were six words.
ASK YOUR FATHER WHO GAVE THE ORDER.
I looked at Whitmore.
“Who gave what order?”
He didn't answer.
May you like
His expression told me he already knew.
And whatever the answer was, it was worse than I imagined.
