Episode5-FindMercer
1672 Words
The room went silent.
Isabella stared at the words written in the corner of the photograph.
Find Mercer before they do.
The message looked old.
The ink had faded slightly over the years.
Yet the words remained clear.
Sharp.
Deliberate.
As though someone had wanted to make absolutely certain they would be read.
Her heartbeat quickened.
“Did you see this before?” she asked.
Richard Hale shook his head immediately.
“No.”
Alexander took the photograph and examined it closely.
His expression became darker with every passing second.
“This wasn’t written recently.”
“You can tell?”
He nodded.
“The ink is old.”
A chill ran through Isabella.
That meant the message had been there for years.
Perhaps decades.
Waiting.
Waiting for someone to notice it.
Waiting for someone to understand it.
Unfortunately, she understood nothing.
“Who are they?” she asked quietly.
Neither man answered.
Because neither man knew.
At least that was what she hoped.
The thought that someone might know more than they were saying made her uncomfortable.
Very uncomfortable.
Alexander placed the photograph on the table.
“We need information.”
Richard Hale nodded.
“Agreed.”
“Everything about Thomas Mercer.”
The lawyer frowned.
“There may not be much.”
“Then find whatever exists.”
The firmness in Alexander’s voice left little room for argument.
For a moment, Isabella simply watched him.
The man seemed different now.
Less like a businessman.
More like a hunter following a trail.
A dangerous trail.
And somehow she had become part of it.
The realization unsettled her.
Only yesterday her biggest concern had been unpaid invoices and declining sales.
Now she was investigating hidden letters, secret contracts, missing businessmen, and suspicious deaths.
Her entire life had changed in less than twenty four hours.
The thought was terrifying.
A phone rang.
Richard Hale answered immediately.
After a brief conversation, he ended the call.
“That was the records department.”
Alexander looked up.
“And?”
“They found something.”
Hope flickered inside Isabella.
Finally.
An answer.
Any answer.
“What did they find?” Alexander asked.
The lawyer opened an email on his tablet.
His eyes moved quickly across the screen.
Then he frowned.
“What?”
Richard Hale looked confused.
“According to public records, Hartwell Shipping Company closed twenty years ago.”
“Why?”
The lawyer continued reading.
“No explanation.”
Alexander folded his arms.
“That’s convenient.”
The sarcasm was obvious.
Isabella understood why.
A company connected to her father, Alexander’s father, and Thomas Mercer suddenly disappearing twenty years ago felt far too convenient.
Almost as convenient as a missing businessman.
Or a hidden marriage contract.
Or a suspicious death.
Everything seemed connected.
The problem was figuring out how.
Her phone vibrated.
The sudden sound made her jump.
Everyone looked at it.
Including her.
For a moment, nobody moved.
The memory of the earlier phone call was still fresh.
Painfully fresh.
Slowly, she picked up the device.
Unknown number.
Again.
Fear tightened inside her chest.
Alexander noticed immediately.
“Answer it.”
She looked at him.
“What if it’s the same person?”
“Then we learn something.”
Easy for him to say.
He wasn’t the one receiving mysterious calls from strangers.
Still, she knew he was right.
Taking a deep breath, she accepted the call.
“Hello?”
Silence.
The now familiar static filled the line.
Her stomach dropped.
It was him.
The same caller.
She knew it instantly.
Several long seconds passed.
Then the voice returned.
Calm.
Controlled.
Unsettling.
“You’re moving faster than expected.”
Every hair on Isabella’s body stood up.
“Who are you?”
The man ignored her question.
Again.
“You found the photograph.”
Alexander stepped closer.
Trying to listen.
The caller continued.
“That wasn’t supposed to happen today.”
Isabella’s grip tightened around the phone.
“What do you want?”
A soft chuckle drifted through the speaker.
“I want you alive.”
The answer shocked her.
“What?”
“Believe it or not, Isabella, I’m trying to help you.”
The room remained silent.
Alexander and Richard Hale watched her carefully.
The caller lowered his voice.
“Listen carefully.”
“I’m listening.”
“Trust no one.”
The phrase sounded familiar.
Too familiar.
Her father’s letter.
Do not trust everyone who claims to be helping you.
The similarity sent a chill down her spine.
“Who are you?” she demanded again.
The man ignored the question.
“You’ve already attracted attention.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means people know you’re looking.”
Fear tightened around her chest.
People.
Plural.
Not one person.
Several.
“Looking for what?”
The answer came immediately.
“Thomas Mercer.”
Silence.
The caller continued.
“If you find him, you’ll discover why your father died.”
Isabella’s heart stopped.
“What?”
“You heard me.”
Her legs suddenly felt weak.
The room seemed to tilt around her.
Alexander noticed her expression immediately.
Concern flashed across his face.
Briefly.
Very briefly.
Then it disappeared.
“What do you mean?” she whispered.
The caller sighed.
A tired sound.
Almost sad.
“Your father was never supposed to die.”
The words shattered something inside her.
Never supposed to die.
The sentence carried implications she did not want to consider.
Implications she was terrified to consider.
Before she could speak again, the caller said something that made her blood run cold.
“Check your father’s office.”
“What?”
“The hidden compartment behind the bookshelf.”
Every muscle in her body froze.
She had never told anyone about her father’s office.
Never.
The caller continued.
“Go there today.”
“How do you know about that room?”
No answer.
Instead, the man said something else.
Something that terrified her even more.
“Before somebody else gets there first.”
The call disconnected.
Again.
Silence filled the room.
Nobody moved.
Nobody spoke.
Finally Alexander broke the silence.
“What happened?”
Isabella repeated the conversation.
Word for word.
The reaction was immediate.
Richard Hale looked horrified.
Alexander looked thoughtful.
Dangerously thoughtful.
“He knows too much,” Isabella whispered.
“Yes.”
Alexander’s answer came instantly.
“He knows about the letters.”
“Yes.”
“He knows about the photograph.”
“Yes.”
“He knows about my father’s office.”
Alexander nodded.
“Yes.”
Fear tightened inside her chest.
The caller seemed to know everything.
Far too much.
Almost as though he had been watching her life.
Watching all of them.
The thought made her skin crawl.
“We should go.”
The words came from Alexander.
Isabella blinked.
“Go where?”
“Your father’s office.”
Richard Hale looked uncertain.
“Immediately?”
“Immediately.”
Alexander grabbed his jacket.
“If there’s really a hidden compartment, I want to see it before somebody else does.”
The urgency in his voice was impossible to ignore.
Because deep down, Isabella felt it too.
The caller had sounded serious.
Desperate even.
As though time mattered.
As though every minute counted.
A terrible possibility entered her mind.
What if somebody was already heading there?
The thought sent fear racing through her.
Twenty minutes later, Isabella sat in the back seat of a black luxury vehicle speeding through Manhattan.
Alexander sat beside her.
Richard Hale followed in another car.
The journey felt endless.
Neither of them spoke much.
The atmosphere was tense.
Heavy.
Uncomfortable.
As buildings rushed past the windows, Isabella found herself glancing at Alexander.
He was staring ahead.
Focused.
His jaw was tight.
His posture rigid.
Clearly lost in thought.
Finally she spoke.
“Why are you helping me?”
His eyes shifted toward her.
The question seemed to surprise him.
“What?”
“You don’t have to do any of this.”
For a moment he said nothing.
Then he looked back out the window.
“My name is in this mess too.”
The answer felt incomplete.
Yet somehow honest.
She studied him quietly.
The billionaire remained silent.
But for the first time, she wondered whether he was just as trapped as she was.
Perhaps they were both victims of something much larger than themselves.
The realization softened her anger slightly.
Only slightly.
An hour later, they arrived.
The building stood exactly as Isabella remembered.
A small brick structure on a quiet street.
Her father’s old office.
The place he had spent countless hours before his death.
The place she had avoided ever since the funeral.
Pain tightened in her chest.
Being here hurt.
Everything reminded her of him.
The memories.
The laughter.
The arguments.
The regrets.
Slowly, she unlocked the front door.
The smell of old paper greeted them immediately.
Dust floated through the sunlight.
Nothing appeared disturbed.
Nothing appeared unusual.
Yet Isabella could not shake the feeling that something was wrong.
Very wrong.
Alexander stepped inside.
His eyes scanned the room carefully.
“Which bookshelf?”
She pointed toward the far wall.
The large wooden bookshelf stood exactly where it always had.
Filled with business records.
Old binders.
Family photographs.
Memories.
Together they approached it.
Isabella’s heart pounded.
The caller had been specific.
A hidden compartment.
Behind the bookshelf.
But how?
She examined the shelves.
Nothing seemed unusual.
Then Alexander reached toward a carved wooden ornament attached to the side.
A decorative piece she had seen hundreds of times.
Without thinking, he pressed it.
A click echoed through the room.
Everyone froze.
Slowly.
Very slowly.
Part of the bookshelf shifted.
And began sliding open.
Revealing a hidden compartment inside the wall.
Isabella’s breath caught.
Because sitting inside the compartment was a black metal box.
And resting on top of the box was a photograph.
A recent photograph.
One taken only hours earlier.
A photograph of Isabella leaving Richard Hale’s office.
Someone had been watching her.
And they wanted her to know it.
- Writer
