Chapter 5 - The Dead Man’s Empire
Charles Mercer had been dead for twelve years.
At least officially.
There was a grave.
A death certificate.
A funeral attended by half of Savannah.
I remembered Grant standing beside the coffin.
I remembered Margaret crying.
Now Charles was alive.
Naomi called in additional federal teams.
Nobody was going to Mercer Shipyard alone.
But Charles had anticipated that.
At 8:11 p.m., a second message arrived.
A live video.
Margaret was still tied to the chair.
A digital clock beside her counted down from forty-seven minutes.
Charles appeared.
“No police.”
Naomi muttered, “He knows.”
Charles smiled.
“Agent Brooks, I assume you’re watching.”
Naomi froze.
He knew her name.
“Send officers into the shipyard and Margaret dies.”
Then he looked toward the camera.
“Caroline, you come alone.”
Dad said, “Absolutely not.”
Charles continued.
“Bring the ledger.”
The video ended.
Eleanor whispered, “He doesn’t need the ledger destroyed.”
“What?”
“He needs something inside it.”
We searched.
Nothing.
Then I remembered how Grant had hidden the locker key inside the envelope lining.
I examined the ledger’s spine.
There.
A narrow seam.
Naomi carefully opened it.
Inside was a microfilm strip.
Eleanor gasped.
“That’s what I hid.”
“What is it?”
“Original bank records.”
Charles had spent decades believing the records were destroyed.
They could prove everything.
Bribery.
Money laundering.
Extortion.
And potentially murder.
I looked at Naomi.
“We give him the ledger.”
Dad stared at me.
“No.”
“Without the microfilm.”
Naomi considered it.
“We can duplicate the ledger.”
“We don’t have time.”
I closed the empty spine.
“He doesn’t know we found it.”
Forty minutes later, I drove toward the abandoned Mercer Shipyard wearing a concealed transmitter.
Rain hammered the windshield.
Federal teams remained several blocks away.
I entered through a rusted gate.
“Grant!”
My voice echoed through the warehouse.
A light came on.
Margaret sat beneath it.
Grant stood nearby.
Charles emerged from the darkness.
Seeing him in person was worse.
Grant resembled him.
Same eyes.
Same confident posture.
Charles smiled.
“Caroline.”
“Let her go.”
Margaret stared at me.
Her mascara had run.
“Please.”
I almost laughed at the irony.
That morning she had blamed me for being hit.
Now she wanted me to save her.
Charles extended his hand.
“The ledger.”
I held it up.
“Margaret first.”
He nodded.
Grant cut his mother free.
She ran toward me.
Halfway across the warehouse, Charles said:
“Stop.”
Margaret stopped.
Grant looked confused.
“Dad?”
Charles pulled a pistol.
He pointed it at Margaret.
Grant stepped forward.
“What are you doing?”
Charles smiled.
“Correcting an old mistake.”
Margaret started crying.
“Charles, please.”
And suddenly I understood.
Margaret wasn’t his hostage.
She was his liability.
She knew everything.
Grant moved between them.
“Put it down.”
Charles stared at his son.
“You’ve always been weak.”
Grant’s face changed.
I had never seen anyone speak to him that way.
“You told me we were protecting the family.”
“We were protecting the money.”
“You told me Caroline deserved it.”
“She was useful.”
Grant looked at me.
For the first time, something like shame appeared.
Not enough to erase what he had done.
But enough to reveal the truth.
Grant had spent his life obeying Charles.
Just as he had demanded I obey him.
Charles reached for the ledger.
I threw it.
It landed near his feet.
He picked it up.
Opened it.
Checked the spine.
His expression changed.
“Where is it?”
I smiled.
“Safe.”
He raised the gun toward me.
Grant lunged.
The gun fired.
Margaret screamed.
Grant fell.
Blood spread across his shoulder.
Charles ran.
Federal agents stormed the warehouse.
Naomi chased Charles through a side exit.
I dropped beside Grant.
He grabbed my wrist.
“Listen.”
“Don’t move.”
“He has another copy.”
“Of what?”
“The list.”
“Where?”
Grant coughed.
“My office.”
“What office?”
“The old courthouse.”
My father arrived behind the agents.
Grant looked at him.
Then back at me.
“He knows.”
“Who knows?”
Grant’s breathing became shallow.
“The judge.”
“My father?”
“No.”
Grant tightened his fingers around my wrist.
“The other judge.”
Then he whispered a name.
I felt the blood drain from my face.
Because the man he named was Chief Justice Raymond Keller.
My father’s closest friend.
May you like
My godfather.
And the man currently supervising the federal grand jury investigating Mercer Development.
