Chapter 3 - THE DEBT VIVIAN BOUGHTHarold Howard was gone.
His coat remained in the staff closet.
His car remained beneath six inches of snow.
His wallet was inside his office.
But the fifty-nine-year-old estate manager had vanished.
Roman stood behind Howard’s desk while Gabriel searched the room.
“You checked every building?”
“Twice.”
“Tunnels?”
“Yes.”
The DeLuca estate had two underground service passages built during Prohibition.
Both were empty.
“Cameras?”
Gabriel looked irritated.
“South corridor footage is missing.”
“How much?”
“Eleven minutes.”
Roman’s jaw tightened.
Somebody inside his house understood the security system remarkably well.
On Howard’s computer, investigators found nothing unusual.
Then Gabriel opened the bottom desk drawer.
Inside sat a prepaid phone.
Three messages.
All from the same number.
Do what you were told.
South camera at 8:02.
And the final message:
If the girl survives, you won’t.
Roman stared at it.
“Vivian’s number?”
“No.”
“Trace it.”
“Already working.”
Roman looked toward the window.
The snow had finally slowed.
Christmas morning was beginning behind gray clouds.
Claire was still upstairs.
Alive.
Howard might not be.
Roman had spent half his life around dangerous people.
He understood threats.
This one bothered him.
Vivian had ordered Claire outside.
That was no longer in doubt.
But someone else had been controlling Howard.
Which meant either Vivian had a partner—
or Vivian was being controlled too.
Roman entered the bedroom shortly after seven.
Claire was awake.
She looked better.
Still pale.
Still exhausted.
But alive enough to be annoyed.
“I need to go home.”
“No.”
Her eyebrows rose.
“Was that supposed to sound reasonable?”
“No.”
“My clothes are in the residence.”
“I had them moved here.”
“You what?”
“For now.”
“I’m an employee.”
“You were nearly murdered on my property.”
“That doesn’t make your bedroom appropriate.”
“It has three exits, bullet-resistant glass, and guards outside.”
“Very romantic.”
Roman stared.
Claire froze.
“I didn’t mean—”
“I know.”
For the first time all night, something almost human moved across his expression.
Then it disappeared.
“Tell me about the money.”
Claire went quiet.
“Roman.”
“Vivian knows about your sister.”
Claire stared at the blankets.
“I don’t want you involved.”
“That option expired in the snow.”
“She can make things worse.”
“She already tried to kill you.”
Claire shook her head.
“You don’t know that.”
“Her message said you wouldn’t return.”
Claire had no answer.
Roman pulled a chair closer.
“What debt?”
She closed her eyes.
“My father borrowed money six years ago.”
“For Lily?”
Claire nodded.
Lily had been fifteen when a spinal infection nearly killed her.
The infection was controlled.
The neurological damage was not.
Insurance covered part of the emergency hospitalization but not the rehabilitation facility Claire’s father believed could give Lily the best chance at independence.
Thomas Bennett borrowed $140,000.
“From a bank?” Roman asked.
Claire almost laughed.
“Banks don’t lend desperate widowers that kind of money in forty-eight hours.”
“Who?”
“A private lender called Atlantic Crown Financial.”
Roman’s face changed.
“You know it?”
“No.”
He did.
Atlantic Crown was not one of his companies.
But he knew people who had used it.
Hard loans.
Aggressive collection.
Interest structured to keep borrowers trapped.
“How much have you paid?”
“For six years?”
“Yes.”
Claire swallowed.
“About one hundred and twelve thousand.”
“And you still owe one eighty-four?”
“Yes.”
Roman’s stare hardened.
“That isn’t lending.”
“I know.”
“Why didn’t your father declare bankruptcy?”
“The loan was personally guaranteed.”
“That still—”
“There were other documents.”
“What documents?”
Claire’s eyes filled with embarrassment.
“I don’t understand them.”
Roman immediately softened his voice.
“Then we find someone who does.”
“My father died two years after taking the loan.”
“How?”
“Car accident.”
Roman paused.
“Where?”
“Connecticut.”
“Was anyone else involved?”
“No. Police said he probably fell asleep.”
Roman’s instincts changed.
Maybe it meant nothing.
Maybe everything meant too much after one attempted murder.
Still—
“When did Vivian learn about the debt?”
“Two weeks ago.”
“How?”
“I don’t know.”
“She quoted the balance?”
“To the dollar.”
Roman stood.
Claire watched him.
“What?”
“I’m getting the loan documents.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“They’re mine.”
“I’m not paying them.”
That stopped her.
“What?”
“I said I’m getting them reviewed.”
Claire studied him suspiciously.
“You solve everything with money?”
“Most things.”
“That’s not attractive.”
Roman almost smiled.
“I’ll remember that.”
She looked away quickly.
Three hours later Roman’s attorney, Elena Rossi, arrived.
By noon she had discovered something strange.
Atlantic Crown Financial no longer owned Claire’s debt.
The loan had been sold repeatedly through three holding companies.
The current owner was Meridian Recovery Partners.
“Who owns Meridian?” Roman asked.
Elena slid a document across his desk.
“Mercer Capital Holdings.”
Roman stared.
Vivian’s family.
“When did they buy it?”
“Eighteen months ago.”
Roman looked up.
Claire began working at DeLuca House twenty-three months ago.
Five months later, the Mercer family acquired her father’s debt.
Elena continued.
“That isn’t the interesting part.”
“What is?”
“They didn’t purchase a portfolio.”
Roman understood.
“They bought one loan?”
“One.”
“Thomas Bennett.”
“Yes.”
Roman felt the room turn cold.
Someone had specifically purchased Claire’s family debt.
This wasn’t coincidence.
Claire had been selected.
He returned upstairs.
Claire was sitting near the window drinking tea.
“I need to ask about your father.”
She lowered the cup.
“What about him?”
“What did he do for work?”
“Accounting.”
“Where?”
“Different places.”
“Names.”
She frowned.
“Why?”
“Claire.”
She thought.
“Harbor Freight Management. Wallace Industrial. Some trucking company when I was little.”
Roman’s body went rigid.
“What trucking company?”
“I don’t know.”
“Think.”
Claire looked annoyed.
“It was fifteen years ago.”
Roman waited.
Then she remembered.
“Mercer something.”
His jaw hardened.
“Mercer Transportation?”
“Yes.”
Roman sat down.
Thomas Bennett had worked for Vivian’s father.
“How long?”
“Maybe three years.”
“Why did he leave?”
Claire shrugged.
“He never talked about it.”
Then she remembered something else.
“Actually…”
Roman watched.
“What?”
“He was fired.”
“For what?”
“I don’t know. He always said it was the best thing that happened to him.”
Roman leaned forward.
“Did he keep records?”
“He was an accountant. He kept everything.”
“Where?”
“Most of his things are in storage.”
“Where?”
“Berkeley Storage in Queens.”
Roman immediately reached for his phone.
Claire caught his arm.
“No.”
He looked at her hand.
She released him.
“You can’t invade my father’s life because somebody scared you.”
“Somebody tried to kill you.”
“That doesn’t mean my father is part of it.”
Roman’s expression softened.
“No.”
He looked directly at her.
“It means somebody believes he is.”
That afternoon, Gabriel traced the burner phone used to threaten Howard.
It had connected to three towers.
One near the DeLuca estate.
One in Manhattan.
And one beside Harbor Ridge Rehabilitation Center.
Roman’s blood turned cold.
“Get security to Lily.”
“Already moving.”
Claire heard the conversation.
She stood too quickly.
“What happened?”
Roman caught her before her weakened legs gave way.
“Sit.”
“What happened to Lily?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re lying.”
“We found a phone connection near Harbor Ridge.”
Claire went white.
“No.”
“Gabriel’s people are going there.”
“I’m going.”
“You almost died twelve hours ago.”
“That’s my sister.”
Roman looked at her.
He knew that tone.
It was the same one he used when someone told him he couldn’t protect his family.
“All right.”
Claire blinked.
“What?”
“We’re going.”
Twenty minutes later Roman’s convoy left Long Island.
The storm had buried half the roads.
Claire sat beside him in the rear of the SUV wrapped in his black coat.
Neither spoke until Gabriel’s phone rang.
He answered.
Then turned from the front seat.
“Roman.”
The tone told them everything.
Claire stopped breathing.
“What?”
Gabriel looked at her.
“Lily’s safe.”
Claire nearly collapsed with relief.
“But?”
Roman asked.
Gabriel hesitated.
“Someone visited her yesterday afternoon.”
“Who?”
Gabriel showed them a security image from Harbor Ridge.
A tall blond woman in a camel coat.
Claire stared.
She knew the face immediately.
Vivian Mercer.
Roman looked toward Claire.
Claire whispered:
“She told me she’d never met Lily.”
Gabriel enlarged the photograph.
Vivian was not alone.
Beside her stood another man.
Older.
Silver-haired.
Powerfully built.
Roman recognized him instantly.
Charles Mercer.
Vivian’s father.
And in Charles’s hand was a photograph he had been showing Lily.
May you like
A photograph of Thomas Bennett.
Claire’s dead father.
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