Chapter 18-- The second copy
841 Words
*CHAPTER 18: THE SECOND COPY*
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*8:55 AM. July 9. Booth 7*
The café was still closed.
Police tape across the door.
`CRIME SCENE`.
But the back door was unlocked.
Just like the text said.
Anderson was pissed.
“You’re not going in alone.”
“I have to,” I said. “If there’s another copy, and it says Dad wasn’t the hero...”
I didn’t finish.
Inside.
Dust.
Chairs stacked.
Smell of old coffee.
Booth 7 was still there.
Under the table: a small envelope.
Taped to the underside.
My name on it.
`For Linda. Don’t trust J.`
My hands shook.
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*9:00 AM. The Envelope*
Inside:
1. *A USB.* White. No tape.
2. *A photo.* Dad and Mercer. Younger. Both smiling. At a golf course.
3. *A note.* Parker’s handwriting.
`Linda,`
`If you found this, they got to the first one.`
`This is the truth.`
`I didn’t just audit them.`
`I worked for them.`
`2012-2014.`
`I helped set up the Geneva accounts.`
`Before I knew what they were for.`
`I quit. I tried to fix it.`
`That’s why they killed me.`
`Don’t let J use this. He was my partner.`
`— Dad`
The floor tilted.
Dad worked for them?
He helped set it up?
“Don’t trust J.”
Anderson.
The back door opened.
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*9:02 AM. Anderson*
He saw the envelope in my hand.
Saw my face.
“What is it?” he asked.
I held up the photo.
Him and Dad. Golf.
2013.
“You knew,” I whispered.
“You were his partner.”
Anderson didn’t deny it.
“I was,” he said.
“Before. When we were both stupid.
We thought we could beat them from the inside.”
“So you used me,” I said.
“You used Dad’s death to take down Mercer.”
“No,” Anderson said. “I used Mercer to avenge your dad.”
“Don’t trust J,” I read from the note.
Anderson sighed.
“Your dad was scared. At the end.
He didn’t know who to trust.
Not even me.”
He held out his hand.
“Give me the USB.
Let me explain what’s on it before the police spin it.”
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*9:05 AM. The Choice Again*
White USB in my hand.
Red USB was with the police.
Black USB was empty.
This was the third one.
What was on it?
Proof Dad was involved?
Proof Anderson was too?
My phone buzzed.
Detective Harris.
`Where are you? Mercer’s lawyers are filing to suppress evidence.`
`We need everything. Now.`
Anderson took a step forward.
“Please, Linda.”
I thought of Dad’s note.
`I tried to fix it.`
I thought of Booth 7.
Of the coffee.
Of the first time he left me a note here.
I made the choice.
I put the white USB in my pocket.
Not in Anderson’s hand.
“I’m taking this to Harris,” I said.
“Alone.”
Anderson’s face fell.
“Linda—”
“If you’re telling the truth, you have nothing to hide,” I said.
“And if you’re not... then Dad was right.”
I walked past him.
Out the back door.
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*9:30 AM. Police Station*
Harris took the USB.
Plugged it in.
We watched.
Folders.
`MERCER_INTERNAL_2012-2014`
`EMAILS_PARKER_MERCER`
`CONFESSION_AUDIO`
Harris clicked the audio.
Dad’s voice. Tired.
`This is Parker.`
`If you’re hearing this, I’m dead.`
`In 2012, Richard Mercer hired me to consult on offshore accounts.`
`I didn’t know it was illegal. Not at first.`
`When I found out, I quit.`
`I stole copies of everything.`
`I’ve been trying to expose them for 5 years.`
`James Anderson helped me. He’s clean.`
`If you’re listening to this, please believe him.`
`And please, tell my daughter I’m sorry.`
`I didn’t mean to bring this to her door.`
Silence.
Harris looked at me.
“Your dad was a whistleblower,” he said.
“Not a criminal.
He was trying to undo what he did.”
I exhaled.
Like I’d been holding my breath for 6 years.
Anderson was clean.
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*3:00 PM. The News*
Headline:
`WHISTLEBLOWER'S DAUGHTER CLEARS FATHER'S NAME`
`MERCER TRIAL TO PROCEED`
No more `suspected accomplice`.
Just `victim`.
Mom cried when she saw it.
Held me for a long time.
Anderson came by that night.
No suit.
Just jeans.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“For lying. For not telling you about before.”
“It’s okay,” I said.
“Dad trusted you.”
He nodded.
“Mercer’s trial starts in 2 months.
Peterson already took a plea.
It’s over, Linda.”
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*11:00 PM. My Room*
Quiet.
For the first time in weeks.
On my desk:
Parker’s notebook.
The photo from the envelope.
A coffee mug from Booth 7.
I picked up the mug.
Black. No sugar.
Like Dad.
My phone lit up.
Unknown number.
`Proud of you.`
`— J`
I smiled.
Then one more text.
Unknown number.
`Booth 7 is reopening next month.`
`New owners.`
`Come for coffee.`
`On me.`
I laughed.
Maybe I would.
- Writer
