Chapter 4 - THE MAN WHO WORE A DEAD MAN'S WATCH
"Ask him why he was wearing my watch."
Nomi read the words three times before looking up.
"Marcus Bell was wearing my father's watch?"
Tristan stood beside the guest room window, holding the old shipping receipt.
"Apparently."
"But you found that watch in your father's safe."
"Which means somebody gave it to him."
"Marcus?"
"That's what we need to establish."
Nomi looked down at the two silver watches lying on her bed.
For eleven years, she'd believed her father had disappeared because he had uncovered something dangerous.
Now she was beginning to wonder whether everyone who claimed to protect her had been protecting themselves.
Including Raymond.
Including the man standing beside her.
"Tristan, why did you go to our house that night?"
He looked at her.
"You said you were there."
"I was."
"Why?"
The question hung between them.
Tristan could have given her a comfortable answer.
He could have told her he'd simply been following orders.
Instead, he sat on the edge of the armchair.
"Because my father told me Daniel had stolen money from our family. He ordered me to bring him back."
"Alive?"
Tristan paused.
"Preferably."
Nomi's face changed.
"You were going to hurt him."
"If he resisted, probably."
She turned away.
Tristan felt the distance between them widen.
"I was twenty-nine," he said. "That doesn't excuse it. I'm telling you who I was."
"My father was a good man."
"I know."
"No, you don't."
She picked up the photograph of the yellow house.
"He made pancakes every Sunday. He kept a jar of quarters in the kitchen because he knew I hated asking for money. When my mother died, he learned to braid my hair from a library book."
Her voice trembled.
"He wasn't a criminal."
Tristan looked at the two watches.
"He worked for criminals."
"Because he thought he could protect us."
"And perhaps he tried."
Nomi looked at him with wet eyes.
"Do you understand what it's like to spend eleven years wondering whether your father abandoned you?"
Tristan didn't answer immediately.
His own father had never abandoned him physically.
But affection had always come with conditions.
Obedience.
Loyalty.
Silence.
"I understand a little," he said.
Nomi wiped her cheek.
"Then help me find out what happened. Don't turn this into another execution."
Tristan nodded.
"All right."
She studied him.
"You mean that?"
"I do."
For the first time since discovering her bruises, Tristan made a decision that went against every instinct his father had taught him.
He took the .45 from his holster, unloaded it, and placed it in the locked safe.
Then he called Elias.
"Stand down on Vargo."
A long silence followed.
"Boss?"
"No abduction. No shooting. Keep eyes on him."
"Since when do we let a man like Vargo walk?"
"Since I decided I need answers more than revenge."
Elias didn't argue.
But when Tristan mentioned Marcus Bell, his tone changed.
"Boss, Marcus just left the Calder."
"Where's he going?"
"South side. Toward the old harbor administration building."
"Follow him."
"Already on it."
Tristan looked at Nomi.
"One more thing, Elias. Quietly pull every archived transfer involving Pier 9 on April sixteenth and seventeenth, eleven years ago."
"That far back?"
"Yes."
"Those files are restricted."
"By whom?"
"Marcus Bell."
Tristan exchanged a glance with Nomi.
"Not anymore."
By morning, the estate had become a different place.
Two security men remained at the front gate.
Elias personally inspected the guest wing.
And Tristan arranged for Dr. Helen Foster, a physician who had treated his family for years, to examine Nomi.
Nomi resisted at first.
"I don't need another person looking at me like I'm damaged."
Tristan stood near the kitchen island.
"She's a doctor. You can refuse."
"And if I do?"
"Then she leaves."
Nomi watched him for a moment.
"You're making a habit of surprising me."
"Good or bad?"
"I haven't decided."
Helen arrived shortly after nine.
She was sixty-two, gray-haired, and unimpressed by Tristan's reputation.
"Out," she told him when she entered the examination room.
Tristan blinked.
"This is my house."
"And these are my patient's ribs."
Nomi almost smiled.
Tristan left.
The examination revealed significant bruising, a badly strained shoulder, and tenderness that required imaging to rule out rib fractures.
Helen photographed the injuries with Nomi's permission.
"These marks aren't all from one incident," she said gently.
Nomi stared at the floor.
"No."
"Would you like to tell me about the others?"
For several minutes, Nomi said nothing.
Then she whispered, "He didn't start out like this."
Helen waited.
"Vincent was charming when we met. He helped me when my landlord sold the building. He brought groceries when I was working two jobs. He remembered my mother's birthday."
"What changed?"
"He discovered who my father was."
Nomi swallowed.
"He started asking questions. Then he started deciding where I could go."
"Did he threaten you?"
"Yes."
"With what?"
Nomi hesitated.
"My reputation. My freedom. Eventually, my life."
Helen put down her pen.
"That is abuse, Nomi. Nothing you did justified it."
Nomi looked toward the window.
"I know that when I'm alone."
"Knowing it with somebody else in the room takes practice."
When Helen finished, she gave Nomi a written medical summary, an imaging referral, and information about confidential support.
"You decide what happens to these records," she said.
Nomi held the envelope tightly.
"Thank you."
In the hallway, Tristan waited beside a small table.
Helen approached him.
"She needs rest, imaging, and control over her own decisions."
"I understand."
"Do you?"
He looked at her.
Helen lowered her voice.
"Your instinct is to lock down the property and decide what happens next."
"I'm trying to protect her."
"Then make sure she can still open the door."
Tristan said nothing.
Helen placed a hand on his arm.
"Protection without choice can feel frighteningly similar to captivity."
After she left, Tristan went directly to the security office.
He instructed the guards to allow Nomi to leave whenever she wished, with an escort offered but never imposed.
Then he returned to the kitchen.
Nomi was sitting at the island with a cup of coffee.
"You changed the security instructions," she said.
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because I was wrong."
She stared into her coffee.
"People don't say that to me very often."
"Get used to it."
A faint smile appeared.
It vanished when Elias entered.
He carried a large archival envelope.
"Found something."
Tristan motioned him forward.
Elias spread several old photographs across the island.
They had been taken by a harbor surveillance camera.
Most were grainy.
One showed Marcus Bell entering Pier 9 shortly before dawn on April 17.
Another showed Raymond Ellis arriving fifteen minutes later.
And the third showed a black sedan leaving the pier.
Three people were visible inside.
Marcus drove.
Raymond occupied the passenger seat.
A third man sat in the back.
His face was obscured.
But the silver watch on his wrist caught the camera flash.
Nomi leaned closer.
"Is that my father?"
"Could be," Tristan said.
Elias shook his head.
"There's more."
He placed a final photograph on the counter.
Taken four minutes later, it showed the same sedan at a toll checkpoint.
The backseat passenger had turned toward the window.
This time, his face was visible.
Nomi gripped the edge of the island.
"Oh, my God."
Tristan stared at the photograph.
The man in the backseat wasn't Daniel Mercer.
It was Tristan's father.
May you like
And beside the photograph was a handwritten note from the toll attendant.
Passenger requested emergency medical assistance for a second man concealed in the trunk.
