Chapter 5: The Colonel's Name
I read the name again.
Daniel Mercer.
Colonel Daniel Mercer had been my commanding officer for nearly six years. He'd recommended me for advanced training, defended me when a mission review threatened to end my career, and personally approved the leave that brought me home.
He had called me son once, after I returned from a deployment in which two members of my unit didn't make it back.
Now his name sat at the bottom of a letter written by my dead father.
I folded the paper and slipped it into the envelope.
Faith watched me carefully.
“Grant?””
I looked at her.
“Did Evelyn tell you what this letter meant?””
“No. She said it was something she'd found while looking through old family records. She didn't tell me how she got it.””
“Did anyone else know you had it?””
“Not that I know of.””
“Did your mother see the photograph?””
Faith shook her head.
I stood.
“Then keep it that way.””
She looked frightened.
“What are you going to do?””
“Find out whether my father was telling the truth.””
“And if he was?””
I looked through the glass at Evelyn.
“Then someone has been lying to me for eighteen years.””
I walked to the far end of the corridor and called Colonel Mercer.
He answered almost immediately.
“Rowan. Any changes in Evelyn's condition?””
“She's stable for now, sir.””
“Good. What do you need?””
I looked down at the envelope.
“Do you remember my father?””
The silence lasted two seconds too long.
“Daniel Rowan?”” he asked.
“Yes.””
“I remember the name.””
“What did you know about him?””
“Grant, that's a complicated subject.””
“Then explain it.””
He exhaled.
“Your father worked with a contractor that provided logistics support to the military. There were allegations of financial misconduct. I wasn't directly involved in the investigation.””
“Did you know Margaret Shaw?””
“Professionally.””
“Did you know Evelyn's family was involved?””
“Shaw Aeronautics was a major contractor. A lot of people knew the company.””
I stared at the photograph in my hand.
“My father left a letter with your name on it.””
Silence.
Then, very carefully, Colonel Mercer asked, “What does the letter say?””
I could have lied.
I could have told him the entire truth.
Instead, I said, “I haven't finished examining it.””
“Grant, if this concerns a historical contracting investigation, you need to understand that there may be classified or protected information involved. You shouldn't distribute documents without verifying their status.””
“I'm aware of that, sir.””
“Then send me a copy.””
“No.””
The word came out before I could soften it.
Another silence followed.
When Mercer spoke again, his voice was colder.
“Excuse me?””
“I said no, sir. I'll have the document reviewed by my civilian attorney before I share it with anyone.””
“That's your right.””
“Thank you.””
He paused.
“Grant, I hope you aren't allowing grief to cloud your judgment.””
I thought of Evelyn's bruised face.
“I hope you aren't asking me to trust someone whose name appears in a warning written by my dead father.””
His breathing changed.
“Your father was a troubled man.””
“Did he steal money?””
“I can't discuss the details of an old investigation without reviewing the records.””
“Then review them.””
“I'll see what I can find.””
“Please do.””
I ended the call.
My hands were steady, but my stomach felt as though I'd swallowed a stone.
If Mercer had been involved in my father's case, it didn't automatically mean he had done anything wrong. He might have been a witness, an investigator, or simply a name my father had recorded for reasons I didn't understand.
But if Mercer was connected to the Shaw family, I needed to know before I trusted him with anything else.
I returned to the waiting area.
Faith had moved to a chair near the window. Her face was pale, and she was staring at her phone.
“What happened?”” I asked.
She showed me the screen.
A text from Margaret.
*Come home immediately. Bring nothing that belongs to Evelyn.*
Beneath it was another message.
*If you've given Grant anything, pray he understands what you've done.*
I took a screenshot.
“Don't respond,” I said.
Faith swallowed.
“She knows.””
“Maybe. Or maybe she's trying to frighten you into confessing something she doesn't know.””
“She always knows.””
I sat beside her.
“Faith, you don't have to go home.””
She looked at me.
“Where am I supposed to go?””
“Somewhere safe, chosen with your attorney and the appropriate authorities. You shouldn't disappear without a plan, and you shouldn't confront your mother alone.””
She gave a bitter laugh.
“Do you know how many times I've wanted to leave? Every time I tried, she reminded me who paid my tuition, who got me my job, who could make sure I never worked in this state again.””
“Then we document the threats and let the people responsible for protecting witnesses decide what safeguards are appropriate.””
She studied my face.
“You really think the police will protect me?””
“I think we need to give them the opportunity to do their job. If they fail, we'll document that, too.””
Before she could answer, Detective Finch appeared with a thick folder under his arm.
“Major. I retrieved your father's case file.””
I stood immediately.
“What's in it?””
“Not much. The original file is incomplete, and several attachments are missing.””
“Convenient.””
“Possibly. But I found something else.””
He opened the folder and showed me a photocopy of an old report.
The heading read: Vehicle Collision — Daniel Rowan.
Below it was the date of my father's death.
I scanned the page.
According to the report, my father had lost control of his vehicle during heavy rain. His car had struck a guardrail and rolled into a drainage ditch. He had died before emergency personnel arrived.
The report mentioned no witnesses.
No evidence of another vehicle.
No indication of foul play.
“Why was there a separate corporate investigation?”” I asked.
Finch turned another page.
“Three weeks before his death, your father reported discrepancies in a series of subcontracting payments. The report was forwarded to a federal contracting oversight office.””
“Was the complaint substantiated?””
“The record doesn't say.””
“Who handled the referral?””
He pointed to a signature near the bottom.
*Daniel Mercer.*
My throat tightened.
“What was his role?””
“According to this document, he was a liaison officer assigned to review the military implications of the complaint.””
“Was he a colonel then?””
“Lieutenant colonel, apparently.””
I read the report again.
There was a handwritten note in the margin.
Subject advised to cease contact with contractor personnel pending review.
My father had been warned to stop speaking with the people he suspected.
Three weeks later, he was dead.
Finch watched me carefully.
“Major, I understand this is personal.””
“Then stop saying it like that makes the facts less important.””
He nodded.
“There's another discrepancy. The accident report says your father's briefcase was recovered from the vehicle and returned to his family.””
“It was never returned to us.””
“Are you sure?””
“I remember my mother asking about it. The officer told her there was no briefcase.””
Finch frowned.
“The report lists it as recovered property.””
“Who signed the receipt?””
He flipped to the final page.
The signature belonged to a detective named Robert Haines.
“Is he still alive?”” I asked.
“Retired. Lives outside Raleigh.””
“Contact him.””
“I'll try.””
“No. Tell him you need to speak with him about the Rowan accident and the Shaw investigation. Don't mention the letter.””
Finch closed the folder.
“Understood.””
I looked at the report again.
“Detective, I need you to explain something. Why would a county police department have access to a report involving a federal contracting investigation?””
“Because your father's death was handled locally, and the two cases may have intersected. But the federal referral would have remained separate.””
“Then we need both records.””
“Yes.””
“Can you obtain them?””
“Not directly from my office. I'll need to coordinate with the appropriate agencies.””
“Do that.””
Finch studied me.
“You know, most people in your position would be shouting by now.””
“Shouting doesn't make evidence appear.””
“No,” he said quietly.
“It doesn't.””
He left to make the calls.
I remained beside the window, looking down at the parking lot.
A black sedan was parked near the emergency entrance.
Its windows were tinted.
Its engine was running.
I watched it for almost a minute before the driver raised a phone and pointed it toward the hospital.
Then the car pulled away.
I photographed its license plate as it passed the exit.
When I turned back, Faith was standing behind me.
“Grant, I need to tell you something else.””
“What is it?””
She looked as though she might be sick.
“Last night, after Evelyn was attacked, Meredith called me.””
“What time?””
“About eight-thirty.””
“After Margaret arrived at the hospital?””
Faith nodded.
“What did she say?””
“She asked whether I'd been to your house.””
“Had you?””
“No.””
“What else?””
Faith wrapped her arms around herself.
“She told me that if anyone asked about the kitchen door, I should say it had been unlocked for days.””
I stared at her.
“Why would she say that if she didn't know what happened?””
“I asked her the same thing.””
“What did she say?””
Faith's voice dropped.
“She said, ‘Because I know how these things look, and I won't let Evelyn destroy all of us.’”
I took out my phone.
“Can you show me the call record?””
She handed it over.
The call lasted four minutes and twelve seconds.
“Do you have any messages from Meredith?””
Faith scrolled through her phone.
There were several.
One from the previous week caught my attention.
*Meredith:* Did Evelyn tell you where she keeps the copies?
*Faith:* What copies?
*Meredith:* Don't play stupid. You know exactly what I mean.
Then, two minutes later:
*Meredith:* If she gives those files to Grant, we're all finished.
I photographed the screen and asked Faith to preserve the original messages.
“Have you told anyone about these?””
“No.””
“Not even your sisters?””
“Especially not my sisters.””
I looked at the message again.
If Meredith knew Evelyn had copies of financial records, and if she'd been at our house before the ambulance was called, she was more than a person who might have information.
She was someone investigators needed to question.
But we still had no proof she'd participated in the assault.
I wasn't going to make the mistake of letting suspicion become a substitute for evidence.
“Faith, I need you to stay somewhere secure tonight. Rebecca Sloan can help arrange that. I'll ask Detective Finch to document the messages.””
She nodded.
“What about Evelyn?””
“I'll stay here.””
“And if Mother comes back?””
“Then we'll make sure the hospital knows she's not to enter without authorization from the medical team.””
Faith glanced toward the ICU.
“She won't give up.””
“Neither will I.””
A nurse emerged from Evelyn's room.
“Major Rowan?””
I turned.
“Is she all right?””
“She's stable. But Dr. Keene would like to speak with you.””
I followed the nurse into the ICU.
Dr. Keene stood beside the bed, holding a small clear bag.
Inside was a broken piece of jewelry.
A silver pendant, cracked down the middle.
“Your wife was wearing this when she arrived,” he explained.
“The chain was tangled with her clothing. During the initial examination, we documented it and secured it with her personal effects.””
I recognized the pendant.
I'd given it to Evelyn on our first wedding anniversary. Inside was a tiny photograph of us standing beneath the oak tree outside our house.
The pendant had been closed when I'd last seen it.
Now the clasp was broken.
“Why are you showing me this?”” I asked.
Dr. Keene pointed to the inside of the pendant.
There was a small engraving I'd never noticed before.
*D.R. — 10/14/08*
My father's initials.
The date on the back of the photograph Faith had given me.
I stared at it.
“Was this engraving here before?””
“I can't answer that. We documented the pendant after the chain was removed.””
I carefully examined the damaged edge.
Something was lodged inside the hinge.
A tiny piece of folded paper.
Dr. Keene immediately called a nurse to document the observation.
We didn't open it.
We didn't touch it.
We photographed the pendant and secured it for the police.
As I left the room, my phone vibrated again.
Unknown number.
*THE BRIEFCASE WAS NEVER LOST.*
A second message arrived.
*YOUR FATHER GAVE IT TO SOMEONE HE TRUSTED.*
Then a third.
*SOMEONE WHO STILL WORKS FOR YOUR GOVERNMENT.*
I looked down at the silver pendant visible through the evidence bag.
My father had hidden a warning in a photograph.
Evelyn had hidden a message in her hand.
And someone had now contacted me three times, each message revealing a little more about a secret that had survived eighteen years.
I typed one question.
*Who has the briefcase?*
May you like
The reply arrived almost instantly.
*ASK COLONEL MERCER WHAT HE DID ON OCTOBER 14, 2008.*
