Mercer stood over the table, the shawl still in his hand, and forced his voice to stay even. "Say what you came to say."
"Direct. I like that." Hale gestured at the empty chair. "You can hear me standing if you prefer, but you'll want to be sitting for part of this."
Mercer didn't move.
"Very well," Hale folded his hands. "Twelve years ago, your mother came into possession of documents that could have ended my career, and likely my freedom, had they reached the right hands. She was clever about hiding them, more clever than I expected from a merchant's widow. I spent years searching before I found her."
"You've had her for twelve years."
"Ten," Hale corrected. "The first two, I only knew she existed somewhere beyond my reach. Since then, yes. Ten years."
Mercer's grip on the shawl ti
