Chapter 3 - The Brother Who Smiled at Funerals
At 9:11 the next morning, Dominic Mercer received an invitation to his own murder.
It arrived by email.
A reminder about the Whitmore Foundation's annual waterfront benefit, scheduled for seven that evening at the Mercer Grand Hotel.
Dominic stared at the invitation while Samuel Parker slept in a private hospital room two floors below.
Across his desk sat his younger brother, Adrian.
Thirty-six years old, handsome, impeccably dressed, Adrian had spent most of his adult life cultivating the impression that he was harmless.
He smiled easily.
He remembered birthdays.
He donated to children's hospitals.
And he had never once raised his voice in front of Dominic.
That was why Dominic had trusted him with the freight division.
"Something wrong?" Adrian asked.
Dominic closed his laptop.
"Why would something be wrong?"
"You canceled three meetings. Your security people are acting strange."
"Maybe they're bored."
Adrian laughed.
Dominic didn't.
The office occupied the top floor of a converted warehouse overlooking the Chicago River. Floor-to-ceiling windows faced the skyline, and the walls displayed photographs of Mercer's father standing beside ships, cranes, and men who were now either dead or retired.
Their father had built the company through legitimate shipping contracts and criminal arrangements that Dominic had inherited before he was old enough to question them.
For fifteen years, Dominic had worked to separate the two.
He had succeeded in some places.
Failed in others.
And made enemies on both sides.
"Valerie called me," Adrian said.
Dominic's gaze sharpened.
"Why?"
"She's upset."
"She's often upset."
"She says you're humiliating her."
Dominic stood.
"Did she mention humiliating a nineteen-year-old waitress?"
Adrian sighed.
"Dominic, don't tell me you're still angry about that."
"She ordered a girl to kneel."
"Valerie has a temper."
"So does a rattlesnake."
Adrian smiled.
"You're getting dramatic."
Dominic walked to the window.
Below, traffic moved along Wacker Drive.
"Tell me something."
"Anything."
"Who approved the subcontracting agreement for Bay 14?"
The silence lasted less than two seconds.
But Dominic noticed.
Adrian crossed one leg over the other.
"Which agreement?"
"The one involving South Harbor Freight."
"We have hundreds of agreements."
"Then finding one should be easy."
Adrian stood.
"I'll ask accounting."
"Do that."
At the door, Adrian paused.
"You're still coming tonight?"
"Wouldn't miss it."
Adrian smiled again.
"Good. Valerie's family has invested a lot in making this evening special."
When the door closed, Dominic reached for his phone.
"He's involved," he told his security chief, Marcus Hale.
Marcus had served beside Dominic for twelve years.
He had taken a bullet meant for him in 2018.
If Dominic trusted anyone, it was Marcus.
"How deep?" Marcus asked.
"I don't know yet."
"And the waitress?"
"Keep her safe."
"She's refusing protection."
Dominic rubbed his forehead.
"Of course she is."
Across town, Norah Bennett was discovering that refusing protection was considerably easier than avoiding it.
A black sedan had followed her bus for six stops.
When she entered a pharmacy, the driver parked outside.
When she emerged, he was still there.
She approached the window and knocked.
The driver lowered it.
"Can I help you, ma'am?"
"Are you following me?"
He looked uncomfortable.
"No, ma'am."
"Then you're either terrible at your job or extraordinarily interested in public transportation."
He sighed.
"Mr. Mercer asked us to make sure you got home safely."
"Tell Mr. Mercer I know how to ride a bus."
"Yes, ma'am."
"And tell him I don't appreciate being watched."
"Yes, ma'am."
She turned away.
Then stopped.
"Have you heard anything about Lily?"
The driver's expression softened.
"No, ma'am."
Norah walked home with a heavier heart than when she had left.
Her apartment was small enough that the kitchen table served as a desk, dining room, and laundry-folding station.
A photograph of her mother stood beside the window.
Evelyn Bennett had died six years earlier from complications following a stroke.
She had spent twenty-nine years cleaning rooms in luxury hotels.
And Norah had spent most of her adult life trying to make sure nobody treated her the same way.
She removed Lily's note from her pocket.
Ask my dad about Bay 14.
Samuel was alive.
But Lily was still missing.
Norah called the hospital.
A nurse told her Samuel was awake.
Twenty minutes later, she was standing beside his bed.
He looked older than fifty-three.
His left cheek was swollen.
His wrists bore bruises from the restraints.
"Where's Lily?" Norah asked.
Samuel stared at the ceiling.
"I don't know."
"What happened?"
He swallowed.
"She called me after the restaurant incident. When she described Valerie, I recognized her."
"From where?"
"The terminal."
Norah frowned.
"Valerie works at the terminal?"
"No. She came there three nights before the restaurant incident. After midnight."
"Why?"
"To meet Adrian Mercer."
Samuel turned toward her.
"I was repairing a loading lift. They thought the building was empty."
"What did you hear?"
"They were discussing shipments. Medical equipment, according to the paperwork."
"Wasn't it medical equipment?"
Samuel shook his head.
"I checked one container after they left. Inside were personal belongings. Passports. Clothing. Medication bags."
Norah felt sick.
"Whose?"
"I couldn't tell. But the inventory numbers didn't match anything in our system."
"Did you tell the police?"
"I tried."
"What happened?"
"The detective I spoke to told me to forget it."
"Who?"
"Daniel Cross."
Norah recognized the name.
Detective Daniel Cross had appeared on television dozens of times as a respected investigator with the Chicago Police Department.
Samuel gripped her hand.
"Listen carefully. I copied the shipment records. I gave Lily a storage key because I thought she'd be safer than me."
"Where's the key?"
"I don't know. She hid it."
"Did she tell you where?"
Samuel closed his eyes.
"She said she'd put it somewhere nobody important would ever look."
Norah considered the words.
Somewhere nobody important would look.
The restaurant.
The staff lockers.
The cleaning supply room.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock.
Dominic stood in the doorway.
He looked at Samuel.
"How are you feeling?"
"Like I lost an argument with a forklift."
Dominic almost smiled.
Then Samuel's expression darkened.
"Your brother isn't working alone."
"I know."
"No, Mr. Mercer. You don't."
Samuel reached beneath his pillow and removed a folded photograph.
He handed it to Dominic.
The image showed three men standing beside a shipping container.
Adrian Mercer.
Detective Daniel Cross.
And Marcus Hale.
Dominic stared at the photograph.
His most trusted security chief.
The man who had taken a bullet for him.
The man currently assigned to protect Norah.
Dominic's phone vibrated.
A message from Marcus appeared.
Norah is safe. I've got eyes on her apartment.
Dominic slowly raised his gaze toward Norah.
May you like
Then he spoke with a calmness that frightened her more than shouting.
"Don't go home."
