Chapter 2: The Woman Who Knew Too Much
Odessa was sitting on a folding chair in the crew passageway when I reached her.
Her silver hair was disheveled, one sleeve of her navy coat was torn, and a thin line of blood ran from her temple to her jaw.
A medical attendant knelt beside her with a gauze pad.
The moment Odessa saw me, she tried to stand.
“Mr. Mercer.””
“Don't move.””
“I need to tell you something.””
“You need a doctor.””
“I need you to listen before they find me again.””
The last three words changed the air around us.
Lenora shut the passageway door.
Two security officers stood outside it, speaking quietly into their radios.
I crouched beside Odessa.
“Who hurt you?””
She looked toward the ceiling, as though expecting someone to be listening through the ventilation system.
“I can't prove who gave the order.””
“Then tell me what you can prove.””
Odessa's hands trembled as she reached into the inside pocket of her coat.
The medical attendant caught her wrist gently.
“Ma'am, you may have a concussion.””
“Then let me finish before I forget.””
She withdrew a small brass key attached to a red thread.
I recognized it immediately.
It belonged to the old filing cabinet in my private office, the one Simone had used during the earliest years of Mercer Rail Services.
I hadn't opened it since her death.
“Where did you get that?”” I asked.
“From your desk.””
“My office has electronic locks.””
“Not the cabinet.””
I took the key.
Odessa leaned closer.
“Six weeks ago, I found a set of payment records hidden inside a folder marked locomotive insurance. The payments were made through a consulting company that doesn't appear on any of your approved vendor lists.””
“Who owns it?””
“I traced the registration to a corporate agent in Delaware. The name on the first filing was Adrian Mercer.””
My brother.
I felt the passageway tilt, though the floor remained perfectly level.
“Adrian signs hundreds of documents,” I said.
“A registration isn't proof he knew what the company was doing.””
“I thought the same thing.””
Odessa reached into her coat again, but this time she withdrew a folded sheet of paper.
“I checked the payment authorizations. Someone used your credentials to approve transfers. Then someone changed the audit trail to make the transactions appear routine.””
“How much?””
“Three million, two hundred thousand dollars over fourteen months.””
I looked at the paper.
The figures were arranged in neat columns. Dates. Transfers.
Vendor references. Approval codes.
The amounts were large enough to attract attention, but broken into smaller payments that could pass through ordinary accounting procedures.
“Why didn't you bring this to me?””
“I tried.””
The answer came so quickly that I looked up.
Odessa's eyes shone.
“I requested a meeting three times. Each time, Camille told me you were unavailable. Then she told me you had asked her to handle the matter personally.””
“I never said that.””
“I know.””
She swallowed.
“After the third attempt, I called your office from my own phone. Camille answered. She told me that if I continued spreading allegations about the family, she would report me for stealing company documents.””
I stared at her.
“You should have called me directly.””
“I did. Your number rang, and she answered again.””
I remembered leaving my phone on the kitchen island one Sunday while I showered. Camille had told me someone from the office called about a minor payroll issue.
Perhaps Odessa had been that caller.
Perhaps not.
The number of ordinary moments suddenly seemed infinite.
“Why resign?”” I asked.
“Because I realized someone was watching me.””
She touched the bruise at her temple.
“Last Tuesday, I left the office after dark. A man followed me into the parking garage. He told me to stop asking questions. I went to the police the following morning, but I didn't have enough evidence to identify him.””
“Did you recognize him?””
“No.””
“Then what happened tonight?””
Odessa looked toward Nia.
“I received a message saying the documents I needed were on the Marigold. It included a photograph of your private study.””
“Who sent it?””
“An unknown number.””
“Why would you believe it?””
“I didn't. Not entirely. But the message included a phrase only someone with access to your old files would know.””
She reached into her bag and handed me a second piece of paper.
It contained four words written in blue ink.
*The river remembers everything.*
I knew those words.
Simone had written them on the first route map she ever drew for me. She believed the old overnight passenger lines were more than transportation. They carried people back to their families, their childhood homes, their unfinished lives.
When she died, I framed the map.
It hung in my study.
“How did this person know about that phrase?”” I asked.
Odessa shook her head.
“I don't know. But I came here because I thought someone was finally ready to tell you the truth.””
“And someone attacked you.””
“I never saw the person's face. I was walking through the staff corridor when I heard footsteps behind me. Then something struck my head. When I woke up, my bag was gone.””
“What was in the bag?””
“A second set of records.””
“Copies?””
“Not exactly.””
She looked at me with an expression I had never seen on her face before.
Fear mixed with something that looked almost like shame.
“They were records from the year Simone died.””
For several seconds, I couldn't speak.
The medical attendant rose.
“Mr. Mercer, she needs to be taken to a hospital.””
I nodded.
“Arrange transport. And make sure a security officer accompanies her.””
Odessa seized my sleeve.
“Don't let Adrian take control of the company.””
“I won't.””
“You don't understand. If the delegation document is activated, he won't need to convince the board that you're unfit. He'll already have the authority.””
I looked at her.
“How do you know about that document?””
“Because I typed the first draft.””
The words came quietly.
I felt my jaw tighten.
“You prepared a document that would give my brother control of the company?””
“I prepared a contingency plan at your wife's request. I was told you wanted it. I believed it was an ordinary succession document.””
“And the version Nia found?””
“I never saw that version.””
She gripped my arm harder.
“Mr. Mercer, the original plan required your signature, two independent medical assessments, and approval from the board's governance committee. The document your daughter photographed removes all three requirements.””
I looked down at the brass key in my palm.
“Why didn't you tell me any of this before you resigned?””
“Because I didn't know the document had been altered until yesterday.””
She pulled a folded note from beneath the collar of her blouse.
“I found this in my desk after I handed in my resignation. I thought it was a warning.””
I unfolded it.
The message was brief.
The accident file is still missing one page.
Beneath the words was a date.
The date Simone died.
My throat tightened.
“What page?””
Odessa's eyes filled with tears.
“The original toxicology request.””
I had to remind myself to breathe.
Simone's death had been ruled an accident after investigators found no evidence of alcohol or illegal substances in her system. I remembered the funeral, the rain against the church windows, and Nia sitting beside me in a black dress too large for her.
I remembered promising my daughter that no one would ever be allowed to take her mother away from her again.
I had made that promise without knowing how little control I had over anything.
“Was there a toxicology report?”” I asked.
“Yes.””
“Then why would a request matter?””
“Because the original request included a second test. The final report references only one.””
I stared at her.
“What did the second test look for?””
Odessa opened her mouth.
A sharp knock sounded against the door.
One of the security officers stepped inside.
“Mr. Mercer, we have a situation.””
“What now?””
“Your wife is demanding to see you. She's threatening to leave the train and take the investors with her.””
“Let her leave.””
The officer hesitated.
“There's another issue. Your brother says he has authorization to remove you from the launch proceedings.””
I looked at him.
“What authorization?””
“He has a document signed by you.””
Odessa closed her eyes.
“Oh, God.””
I rose slowly.
“Where is it?””
“Dining car.””
“Then that's where we'll go.””
Odessa caught my hand one last time.
“Mr. Mercer, please. Don't confront him without understanding what he's trying to accomplish.””
I looked at the injured woman who had once organized every detail of my life with quiet competence.
“What do you think he's trying to accomplish?””
She lowered her voice.
“It's not just the company. It's the train.””
“What about it?””
“The Marigold's first route is supposed to be Chicago to New Orleans. But the original route authorization was changed two days ago.””
I stared at her.
“Changed to where?””
Odessa's answer made no sense.
“Milwaukee.””
I glanced through the narrow window in the passageway door. Beyond it, the platform lights shone on wet steel rails.
May you like
“Why Milwaukee?””
“Because that's where Simone's car went off the road.””
