Chapter 5 - THE MAN THEY LEFT BEHIND
"A second man concealed in the trunk?"
Nomi's voice was barely audible.
She looked from the toll attendant's note to Tristan.
"Was that my father?"
Tristan didn't answer.
He was staring at the photograph of his own father sitting in the back of the sedan.
Eleven years earlier, Anthony had sworn that he hadn't seen Daniel Mercer for three days before the disappearance.
Now that story was falling apart.
"Elias," Tristan said, "who took these photographs out of the harbor archives?"
"Nobody. They were copied to an insurance investigator after the warehouse fire."
"Then why didn't we see them eleven years ago?"
"Because the investigator was paid to close the claim."
"By whom?"
Elias hesitated.
"Your father's holding company."
Nomi stepped away from the kitchen island.
"So your father was there."
"Yes."
"And mine was locked in a trunk."
"We don't know that."
She turned sharply.
"Don't do that."
"Do what?"
"Make everything uncertain because the truth might hurt your family."
Tristan looked at her.
"You're right."
He picked up the toll note.
"My father lied. Whatever happened at that checkpoint, he knew about it."
Nomi's anger faltered.
She hadn't expected the admission.
Tristan looked toward Elias.
"Find the toll attendant."
"Already tried. His name was Walter Keene. Retired eight years ago. Lives outside Albany."
"Can we speak to him?"
"He's in assisted living. His daughter handles his appointments."
"Then arrange a visit through her. No pressure."
Elias nodded.
Nomi looked down at the photographs again.
"There has to be something else."
"There is," Elias said.
He withdrew a photocopied incident report.
"Keene filed a medical assistance request that morning. The request was canceled six minutes later."
"Who canceled it?" Tristan asked.
"The person identifying himself as the patient's guardian."
Nomi frowned.
"My father was thirty-eight."
Elias looked uncomfortable.
"I know."
Tristan examined the form.
There was no patient's name.
Only a description.
Adult male. Unconscious. Possible head injury.
Below it appeared a signature.
Anthony.
Tristan's father had signed the form himself.
Nomi read it silently.
Then she did something Tristan hadn't expected.
She sat down.
Very slowly.
"He's dead," she whispered.
Tristan crouched beside the stool.
"Nomi, we don't know that."
"My father was hurt. Your father put him in a trunk. Then nobody ever saw him again."
Her voice cracked.
"What else am I supposed to think?"
Tristan wanted to promise her that Daniel was alive.
He wanted to tell her that everything would be all right.
But he'd spent too much of his life listening to powerful men offer promises they couldn't keep.
So he said, "I don't know. But I won't lie to you."
Nomi looked at him.
The tears came quietly.
Tristan stayed beside her without reaching for her.
After a moment, she extended her hand.
He took it.
Not tightly.
Just enough to let her know he was there.
Across the kitchen, Elias pretended to study the report.
He had worked for Tristan for fifteen years.
He had seen his boss angry, wounded, and merciless.
He had never seen him sit on a kitchen floor holding somebody's hand because there was nothing else he could do.
That afternoon, Marcus Bell arrived at the estate for his scheduled financial meeting.
He came through the front entrance carrying a leather briefcase and wearing his usual charcoal suit.
He looked irritated when Elias escorted him into Tristan's office.
"What's with the extra security?"
Tristan sat behind his desk.
"Sit down, Marcus."
Marcus placed his briefcase on a chair.
"I have a conference call with the port authority in twenty minutes."
"Cancel it."
"Tristan—"
"Sit."
Marcus obeyed.
Nomi remained in the adjoining library, where she could hear the conversation through the open connecting door.
Tristan had asked whether she wanted to be present.
She'd said no.
But she'd also made one thing clear.
"Don't make decisions about my father without me."
He'd agreed.
Now he placed the photograph of Marcus leaving Pier 9 on the desk.
Marcus went pale.
"Where did you get that?"
"Answer the question you're about to be asked."
Marcus stared at the image.
"That was eleven years ago."
"April seventeenth."
"Yes."
"Who was in the trunk?"
Marcus removed his glasses.
"Tristan, there are things you don't understand."
"Then explain them."
Marcus rubbed his face.
"Your father was trying to prevent a war."
"By transporting an unconscious man in a car trunk?"
Marcus closed his eyes.
"He wasn't supposed to be in the trunk."
Tristan leaned forward.
"Then where was he supposed to be?"
"In the backseat."
"Who?"
Marcus looked toward the library door.
His expression changed.
"Nomi."
She stepped into view.
Marcus rose immediately.
"Good Lord."
Nomi stopped.
The man looked genuinely shaken.
Not merely surprised.
Afraid.
"You know me?" she asked.
Marcus removed his glasses again.
"I knew your father."
"Then you can tell me what happened."
Marcus looked at Tristan.
"You should have kept her away from this."
Nomi's face hardened.
"I'm standing right here."
Marcus lowered his eyes.
"Your father was trying to save someone."
"Who?"
"Raymond."
Tristan frowned.
"Raymond Ellis?"
Marcus nodded.
"He'd been injured before we reached the pier. Daniel was supposed to take him to a doctor."
"Then why did my father cancel the ambulance?"
"Because the wrong people were watching the checkpoint."
"Which people?"
Marcus hesitated.
"The Morettis."
Tristan considered that.
The explanation fit part of the evidence.
But not enough.
"Why was my father there?"
Marcus looked exhausted.
"Anthony believed Raymond had betrayed him. Daniel convinced him otherwise."
"Did he?"
"Yes."
"Then why did Daniel disappear?"
Marcus stared at Nomi.
"Because he stayed behind."
Nomi gripped the doorframe.
"Where?"
"At Pier 9."
"Doing what?"
"Making sure Raymond got away."
Tristan looked at the photographs.
"That's impossible. Raymond was in the front passenger seat."
Marcus shook his head.
"No. That's what everyone assumed."
He pointed to the man's reflection in the passenger-side window.
"Look at the scar on his cheek."
Tristan enlarged the photograph on his computer.
The man wore Raymond's coat.
But his face was different.
"Who is that?"
Marcus swallowed.
"A Moretti lieutenant named Salvatore Greco."
Nomi stepped forward.
"Then where was Raymond?"
Marcus looked away.
"That is the question I've spent eleven years trying not to answer."
Tristan stood.
"Enough games."
Marcus's eyes filled unexpectedly.
"You think I wanted any of this? I had a wife and two little boys. Anthony told me what would happen to them if I spoke. Then the Morettis made sure I understood he wasn't exaggerating."
His voice grew rough.
"I was afraid, Tristan. And every year I stayed quiet, telling the truth became harder."
Nomi studied him.
"Did you help Vincent Vargo?"
Marcus closed his eyes.
"Yes."
Tristan's expression hardened.
Marcus raised a trembling hand.
"But I didn't tell him where you were, Nomi. I didn't know he was hurting you."
"You met him last night."
"He demanded access to the old harbor accounts. I refused."
"Why?"
"Because he's already found one part of the record."
"What part?"
Marcus opened his briefcase.
Inside was a folded accounting sheet.
He placed it on the desk.
It contained twelve names, each followed by a dollar amount.
Some names belonged to prominent New York businessmen.
Two belonged to Moretti officials.
One was Anthony's.
And one made Tristan's blood run cold.
Daniel Mercer — $2,000,000.
Nomi stared at the entry.
"That's the money they said my father stole."
Marcus shook his head.
"No. That's the money he was supposed to receive."
"For what?"
Marcus looked at her.
"Eleven years of silence."
Nomi's eyes filled.
"My father would never sell his silence."
"I know."
Marcus reached into his briefcase again.
This time, he took out a small yellowed envelope.
"That's why he refused the money."
Tristan recognized the handwriting on the front.
Daniel Mercer.
The envelope was addressed to Nomi.
Marcus placed it in her hands.
"I was supposed to give you this when you turned eighteen."
Nomi stared at him.
"I'm twenty-eight."
"I know."
"Why didn't you?"
Marcus's voice cracked.
"Because I was a coward."
Nomi opened the envelope.
Inside was a single page.
She began reading.
Her hands trembled.
Then she looked at Tristan.
"My father knew something was going to happen to him."
Tristan stepped closer.
"What did he write?"
Nomi read the final sentence aloud.
"If I don't come home, remember that the man who saved my life also helped put me in danger."
She turned the page over.
There, beneath her father's signature, was the name of the man he had trusted most.
Raymond Ellis.
May you like
And directly underneath it, in different handwriting, were five words.
Ask Tristan about the night.
