Chapter 2 - The Key Harold Left Behind
Cole saw Victor’s hand moving toward his pocket.
“Don’t.”
The single word carried across the sanctuary.
Victor stopped.
For most people in Providence, Cole Mercer raising his voice was frightening.
Cole Mercer becoming quieter was worse.
Victor slowly removed his empty hand.
“This is a funeral, Cole.”
“Then stop behaving like you’re late for something.”
The two men stared at each other.
Hannah had met Victor only a handful of times before she disappeared, but she remembered enough.
Harold had been stern yet strangely warm beneath it. Victor possessed the same dark hair and Mercer cheekbones, but none of Harold’s patience.
He had always watched Hannah as if evaluating the cost of an object.
Now he was watching Owen.
That alone made her move.
She stepped between her son and Victor.
Cole noticed.
Eight years earlier, he might have ordered one of his men to remove Victor from the church.
Instead, he looked at Hannah.
“What do you need?”
The question surprised her.
“What?”
“To feel safe right now.”
No command.
No assumption.
A question.
It should not have affected her.
It did.
“Space,” she answered.
Cole nodded once and backed away half a step.
Then he looked toward Gabriel Shaw, the tall man standing near the side aisle.
Hannah remembered Gabriel too. He had been Cole’s closest friend since adolescence and later became head of security for the Mercer family.
“Clear Harold’s private vestry,” Cole said. “Miriam, Hannah, Owen and me. Nobody else.”
Victor scoffed.
“I am Harold’s brother.”
“And he wrote four names on that envelope.”
“Three.”
Cole glanced at Owen.
“Four.”
Something almost human crossed Hannah’s chest.
Victor stepped forward.
“You don’t know that boy.”
Cole’s gaze turned lethal.
Hannah grabbed Cole’s wrist before she even realized she was doing it.
Every eye nearby dropped to her hand.
Cole did not move.
“Don’t,” she whispered.
He looked down at her fingers around his wrist.
Then back at her face.
“You think I’m going to hurt him?”
“I think Owen is watching.”
That changed everything.
Cole looked toward the boy.
Owen was staring silently.
Cole’s jaw relaxed.
“You’re right.”
Hannah released him.
Victor seemed disappointed.
That frightened her too.
Minutes later, they were inside the church’s private vestry while rain struck the narrow windows. Gabriel remained outside with two security men Hannah did not recognize.
Miriam locked the door.
Owen sat on an old leather chair eating crackers a nun had given him.
Cole stood across the room as if forcing himself not to stare at the child.
Hannah understood.
Once you saw the resemblance, it became impossible to unsee.
Owen chewed exactly the way Cole did when distracted—slowly on one side.
Cole noticed that too.
His eyes briefly turned away.
Miriam placed the brass key on the desk.
Then she opened Harold’s envelope.
Inside were two handwritten pages.
A photograph.
And a bank deposit receipt.
Cole reached for the photograph first.
Hannah’s stomach dropped.
It showed her eight years earlier.
Pregnant.
Very pregnant.
She was walking out of a grocery store in Vermont.
The photo had been taken from across the street.
Cole’s head snapped toward her.
“Who took this?”
“I don’t know.”
“You knew someone photographed you?”
“No.”
He turned the image over.
There was writing on the back.
June 14. Target confirmed. Child viable. Await authorization.
Cole read the words twice.
Then a third time.
The room became colder.
“What does that mean?” Hannah asked.
Cole did not answer.
Miriam began reading Harold’s letter aloud.
“Cole, if you are hearing this with Hannah in the room, then I failed to tell you the truth while I was alive.”
Cole looked toward his father’s handwriting.
“I helped Hannah leave.”
Silence.
Cole’s expression cracked.
Hannah had expected rage.
Instead, she saw grief.
His father had lied to him for eight years.
“I did it because three days after Hannah told me privately that she was pregnant, I discovered someone had opened a surveillance file on her through Mercer Security. It was not authorized by you.”
Cole looked at Gabriel’s shadow beneath the door.
Miriam continued.
“The reports tracked her doctor, her movements, her friends, and eventually the location she selected after leaving Rhode Island.”
Hannah stopped breathing.
Her first apartment.
She had stayed there only twelve days before Harold appeared unexpectedly and moved her again.
He had told her it was precautionary.
He had never told her someone had found her.
“I believed at first that Victor was responsible,” Miriam read. “I later learned the truth was more complicated. Someone with access to Cole’s internal security codes was providing him information.”
Cole’s hands curled into fists.
“Why?” Hannah whispered.
Miriam read the next line.
“Because an heir would give Victor leverage over Cole that money never could.”
Hannah looked at Owen.
The boy had stopped eating.
“Mom?”
She went to him immediately.
“It’s okay.”
It was a lie.
Owen knew it.
Children always knew.
Cole crouched several feet away.
“Owen, nobody in this room is angry with you.”
“Uncle Victor looked angry.”
Cole and Hannah exchanged a glance.
“He’s my great-uncle?” Owen asked.
Hannah hesitated.
Cole answered.
“Yes.”
Owen considered that.
“I don’t think he likes me.”
Cole’s voice became soft.
“That is his failure. Not yours.”
Miriam returned to the letter.
“Cole, I know what you will want to do when you learn this. You will want to lock every door, surround Hannah and the boy with guards, and make every decision yourself. If you do, you will prove the exact thing that made her leave.”
Cole lowered his eyes.
Hannah stared at Harold’s handwriting.
Even dead, the old man knew his son.
“Protect them,” Miriam read. “But ask before you decide for them.”
Cole gave a humorless breath.
“He planned the lecture from the grave.”
Hannah nearly smiled despite herself.
Nearly.
The letter continued.
“The brass key opens a deposit box at Providence Federal. Box 317. Inside is the evidence I spent years collecting. Do not retrieve it through Mercer channels. Do not tell Victor. And until you know who helped him, do not fully trust your own security.”
Cole’s eyes moved toward the door again.
Gabriel.
His oldest friend.
Hannah saw the conflict.
Miriam reached the final paragraph.
“There is one more thing. I changed my estate fourteen months ago. Victor knows only part of what I did. When he discovers the rest, he will come for the boy.”
Miriam stopped.
Cole stared at her.
“What did my father do?”
She looked at the bank receipt.
“I think we need to open Box 317.”
A heavy knock struck the door.
Everyone froze.
“Cole,” Gabriel called from outside. “We have a problem.”
Cole opened the door.
Gabriel entered and shut it immediately.
His face was tense.
“Someone cut power to the church’s east security cameras seven minutes ago.”
Cole’s gaze hardened.
“Why?”
“We don’t know.”
Gabriel looked toward Hannah.
“Your car was also tampered with.”
Her stomach turned.
“What do you mean?”
“Brake line.”
Owen’s hand tightened around hers.
Cole’s eyes became frighteningly still.
“That car carried my son.”
Gabriel nodded.
“I know.”
For the first time, the word my did not make Hannah angry.
It scared her because she heard what was underneath it.
Eight years of ignorance.
Eight years of missed birthdays.
And now someone had almost put Hannah and Owen into a car with no brakes.
Cole turned to her.
“We leave through the west exit.”
“Where?”
“You choose.”
Hannah blinked.
He was remembering Harold’s warning.
“My hotel.”
“Too exposed.”
“You said I choose.”
Cole’s jaw tightened.
Then he nodded.
“Your hotel.”
Gabriel started issuing instructions through his earpiece.
Miriam slipped the brass key into her pocket.
They moved through a service corridor toward the rear of St. Matthew’s.
Owen stayed between Hannah and Cole.
Halfway down the hallway, the church lights flickered.
Then went black.
Someone screamed in the sanctuary.
Emergency lights clicked on, bathing the corridor in red.
Gabriel cursed.
“Move.”
A door slammed somewhere behind them.
Footsteps followed.
Fast.
Cole reached toward Owen but stopped himself and looked at Hannah.
She nodded.
Only then did Cole take the boy’s hand.
They ran.
At the west exit, two black SUVs waited.
Gabriel opened the first rear door.
Hannah pushed Owen inside and climbed after him.
Cole was about to enter when his phone vibrated.
He glanced at the screen.
Unknown number.
One photograph had arrived.
Cole opened it.
His face changed.
“What?” Hannah demanded.
He turned the phone toward her.
The photograph had been taken inside the church less than ten minutes earlier.
It showed Hannah.
Owen.
And Cole standing beside Harold’s coffin.
Across Owen’s face was a red circle.
Below the photograph were seven words.
HAROLD SHOULD HAVE KEPT THE BOY HIDDEN.
Then another message appeared.
BOX 317 BELONGS TO US.
Hannah felt Owen press against her side.
Cole slowly looked toward Gabriel.
Only five people had heard Miriam mention the box.
Hannah.
Cole.
Owen.
Miriam.
And Gabriel, who had been standing outside the door.
But someone already knew its number.
May you like
Cole’s oldest friend stared back at him.
And for the first time in twenty years, Cole Mercer looked at Gabriel Shaw as if he might be the enemy.
