Chapter 8: Victor Lane
Victor Lane was waiting in an interview room when I arrived at the police station.
Detective Harris didn't want me inside.
I insisted.
Not because I wanted to play attorney.
Because for twenty-seven years, everyone else had controlled the story.
That ended tonight.
Harris opened the door.
“Ten minutes.””
Victor sat at the table.
He was older than the photograph.
His hair was almost white.
There was a bruise beneath his left eye and dried blood on the collar of his shirt.
He looked exhausted.
But alive.
When he saw me, he stood.
“You look like her.””
I stopped.
“Like who?””
“Your grandmother.””
I frowned.
“My grandmother died when I was six.””
“I know.””
He sat down.
I took the chair across from him.
Daniel remained outside the room.
Harris stood near the wall.
Victor looked at me.
“I never wanted you involved.””
“Yet you put my name in your car.””
“I had to.””
“Why?””
“Because your father was going to make you the scapegoat again.””
My stomach tightened.
“Again?””
Victor nodded.
“He planned to say you stole the financial records.””
I stared at him.
“When?””
“Tonight.””
I looked at Harris.
“Did you know about that?””
“We're investigating.””
I turned back to Victor.
“Start from the beginning.””
He took a slow breath.
“Your father and David Mercer were partners.””
“I know.””
“They were moving company money.””
“I know.””
“Margaret found out.””
“I know.””
“David found out too.””
“And then he disappeared.””
Victor looked down.
“Yes.””
“Did my father kill him?””
“No.””
“Then who did?””
Victor's eyes lifted.
“You need to understand something.””
“What?””
“Your father wasn't the man in control.””
I frowned.
“What does that mean?””
Victor leaned closer.
“Richard was terrified of someone else.””
“Who?””
He didn't answer.
I waited.
Finally, he said, “Your grandfather.””
I stared at him.
“My grandfather had been dead for years.””
“Exactly.””
I didn't understand.
Victor continued.
“Your grandfather built the system. Your father inherited it.””
“What system?””
“Money laundering. Fake companies. False invoices. Property transfers.””
Harris stepped forward.
“Victor, be specific.””
Victor nodded.
“Richard wasn't stealing for himself.””
I felt cold.
“Then who was he stealing for?””
Victor looked directly at me.
“The Coleman family.””
“That doesn't make sense.””
“It will.””
He reached into his pocket.
Harris immediately moved.
“Slowly.””
Victor pulled out a folded photograph.
He placed it on the table.
I looked down.
My father.
My grandfather.
David Mercer.
Margaret.
And a fifth person.
A woman.
I recognized her immediately.
My aunt.
Helen.
My father's older sister.
She had died when I was eleven.
I looked at Victor.
“She was involved?””
“She ran the accounts.””
I shook my head.
“My aunt worked at a school.””
“That's what your family told you.””
My chest tightened.
Victor continued.
“She was the person who moved the money.””
“Why?””
“Because your grandfather had built businesses that existed only on paper.””
Harris asked, “And David?””
“David wanted out.””
“What happened to him?””
Victor looked at me.
“Your father asked me to help him disappear.””
I couldn't breathe.
“You helped?””
“Yes.””
“Why?””
“Because David was alive.””
I stared at him.
“What?””
“He wasn't killed.””
“Where is he?””
Victor looked away.
“He died years later.””
“How?””
“Cancer.””
My heart sank.
“When?””
“2008.””
I swallowed.
“Where?””
“Canada.””
“Did he ever contact my father?””
“No.””
“Why did you hide him?””
“Because Richard promised to protect him.””
I laughed bitterly.
“Protect him from what?””
Victor's expression changed.
“From the people your father owed money to.””
The room became quiet.
“Who?””
Victor shook his head.
“Not yet.””
I leaned forward.
“You don't get to do that.””
“Do what?””
“Give me pieces.””
“You're not ready for the whole story.””
“I've been waiting twenty-seven years.””
He looked at me.
“And your daughter almost died tonight.””
My jaw tightened.
“Don't use her to manipulate me.””
“I'm not.””
He reached into his pocket again.
This time he removed a small envelope.
He slid it across the table.
“This was meant for you.””
I stared at it.
“My name?””
He nodded.
I opened it.
Inside was a photograph.
Ava.
At the birthday party.
Taken from outside the house.
My blood froze.
“When was this taken?””
Victor said nothing.
I turned the photograph over.
There was handwriting.
*She is the leverage.*
I looked up.
“Who wrote this?””
Victor shook his head.
“Not me.””
“Then who?””
He stared at the photograph.
“Your mother.””
I felt the room disappear.
“No.””
Victor nodded.
“She sent it to me three days ago.””
I looked at Harris.
He took the photograph.
“Why would she send you a picture of Ava?””
Victor answered.
“Because she wanted me to scare your father.””
I stared at him.
“What does that mean?””
“Your mother knew Richard was going to come after you.””
“Why?””
“Because you were getting too close.””
I thought about the blue box.
The records.
The old photographs.
The note.
The garage.
“What were they afraid I'd discover?””
Victor's eyes hardened.
“Your birth certificate.””
I frowned.
“My birth certificate?””
“Yes.””
“That makes no sense.””
“It does if your father isn't your biological father.””
I stopped breathing.
Harris looked at Victor.
“Are you certain?””
“Yes.””
I laughed.
It sounded hollow.
“My father is Richard Coleman.””
“Legally.””
“My mother is Elaine.””
“Yes.””
“Then what are you saying?””
Victor looked at me.
“Your biological father was David Mercer.””
The words didn't register.
Not immediately.
Then everything inside me seemed to fall apart at once.
“No.””
Victor didn't move.
“No.””
I stood.
“You're lying.””
“I wish I were.””
“My mother had an affair?””
“No.””
“Then what?””
Victor's voice softened.
“David was your mother's first husband.””
I stared at him.
“What?””
“They divorced before Elaine married Richard.””
“That isn't true.””
“Your family erased him.””
I shook my head.
“I would know.””
“You were a child.””
“My mother would have told me.””
“She wanted to.””
I looked at Harris.
He had gone completely still.
Victor continued.
“Richard discovered David had been named as your biological father on an original hospital record.””
My chest tightened.
“The record was changed.””
“By whom?””
“Your grandfather.””
“Why?””
Victor looked at me.
“Because David knew too much.””
I sat down.
My hands were shaking.
Suddenly, memories came back.
My mother sitting beside my hospital bed when I was sick.
My father refusing to let me see certain relatives.
My grandmother calling me by a name I had never understood.
A photograph of a man I had once asked about.
My mother saying, That's nobody.
Nobody.
A person who had apparently been my father.
Victor leaned forward.
“Richard didn't raise you because he loved you.””
I looked at him.
“He raised me because I was useful.””
“Yes.””
“How?””
“You were the reason David stayed silent.””
I couldn't speak.
Victor looked toward the one-way mirror.
“Your father knew David would never expose the family if it meant destroying his daughter.””
I stared at him.
“My whole childhood was built around a lie.””
“Yes.””
“And the broken window?””
Victor nodded.
“You saw David that night.””
“Yes.””
“He came to take you.””
I froze.
“What?””
“He wanted to tell you the truth.””
“Why didn't he?””
“Richard stopped him.””
My eyes filled with tears.
“What did my father do?””
Victor looked at me.
“He told David that if he spoke to you, he'd make sure you were taken away.””
I closed my eyes.
The garage.
The tarp.
The shouting.
My father's voice.
The hand.
Everything clicked into place.
I opened my eyes.
“Why did Margaret write that letter?””
“Because she knew.””
“Why did she keep the evidence?””
“Because she wanted someone to eventually expose him.””
“Why now?””
Victor was silent.
“Why now?””
He finally answered.
“Because your father made one mistake.””
“What?””
“He attacked your daughter.””
I stared at him.
“And that changed everything?””
“Yes.””
Victor leaned back.
“Before tonight, Richard thought you were still the thirteen-year-old girl he could frighten into silence.””
I looked at the observation window.
My reflection stared back.
Not thirteen anymore.
Not powerless.
Not confused.
An attorney.
A mother.
A woman who had finally learned why her entire family had been terrified of one particular night.
But there was still one question.
“If David was alive until 2008, why did you tell my family he was dead?””
“I didn't.””
I frowned.
“Then who did?””
Victor's eyes moved toward the door.
“The person who just walked into the station.””
The door opened.
My mother stood there.
Elaine looked at me.
She was crying.
May you like
And in her hand was an old envelope.
“I think,” she whispered, “you deserve to know who your father really was.””
