Chapter 18 - The Witness Who Disappeared|
For two years, I had imagined Daniel Mercer as a missing accountant who might hold the answers to my father's death.
Now his name had appeared on the recording as the person who called the ambulance.
I could barely speak.
“Does that mean he was there when Dad died?”
“It means someone identified him as the caller,” Evelyn said. “We need to verify the context.”
Adrian paced the room.
“If Daniel called for help, he may have witnessed what happened.”
“Then why did he disappear?” I asked.
“Because he may have been threatened. Or because he was involved. We can't rule either possibility out.”
The detective received confirmation that Daniel's old bank account had been accessed within the past week. The transaction originated from a small town in Wisconsin, where a man using an alias had rented a room at a roadside motel.
Police officers were dispatched immediately.
We waited for hours.
At last, the detective called.
They had found Daniel alive.
He was sixty-three, thin, exhausted, and frightened enough to ask for a lawyer before answering a single question. He had spent two years moving between temporary jobs and rented rooms, using different names whenever he believed someone had discovered his location.
When Evelyn finally spoke to him through a secure video connection, he refused to look directly at the camera.
“Mr. Mercer,” she said, “we need to know what happened to Quinn Bennett.”
Daniel closed his eyes.
“I knew this day would come.”
“Were you present when he died?”
“Yes.”
My hands went cold.
“Did you call the ambulance?” I asked.
Daniel looked up.
“You must be Nora.”
“Answer the question.”
“Yes. I called the ambulance.”
“Why did you disappear?”
He rubbed his face.
“Because I was afraid.”
“Of whom?”
“Victor. Richard. And the people who worked for them.”
“Did they kill my father?”
Daniel was silent for so long that I thought the connection had failed.
Then he spoke.
“Quinn discovered that the company records had been altered. He knew money was being diverted, but he didn't know who had given the original order. He asked me to help him trace the transfers.”
“And?”
“We found the link to Richard Cole. Your father planned to take the evidence to Adrian's father, but Richard learned about it.”
Adrian leaned toward the screen.
“Why wasn't my father informed?”
“Because Richard controlled the finance department. He had access to the private records and the security team. He threatened to destroy anyone who exposed him.”
Daniel looked down.
“On the night Quinn died, I went to the café to collect the ledger. Maureen was there. Victor arrived shortly afterward.”
“What happened?” I asked.
“Quinn confronted them. He demanded that they return the property documents and tell him where the missing money had gone. The argument became heated.”
“Did Victor hurt him?”
Daniel's eyes filled with tears.
“I didn't see anyone strike him. Quinn suddenly became ill. He collapsed beside the office desk.”
“Was he poisoned?”
“I don't know. But I saw Victor take a small bottle from his pocket and put it away before the ambulance arrived.”
My breath caught.
“Did you tell the police?”
“No. Victor said the bottle contained medication Quinn had been taking. He told me the authorities would blame me for the missing money if I spoke. He said he could make sure I spent the rest of my life in prison.”
“So you ran.”
“Yes.”
I wanted to hate him for abandoning my father in the only way that mattered after death: by letting the truth disappear.
But I could hear the fear in his voice.
“Did Maureen know what was in the bottle?”
Daniel hesitated.
“She saw Victor put it away. I don't know whether she knew what it contained.”
“And the recording?”
“Quinn had been using a small recorder to document the financial meetings. He kept the original recording in a safe place. I took a copy after he collapsed.”
“Where is the original?”
Daniel looked directly at me.
“I don't know. Quinn told me that if anything happened to him, I should find you. He believed you would recognize the one place no one else would think to search.”
I thought of the café, the recipe book, the storage unit, and the basement.
“What place?”
Daniel swallowed.
“The place where he kept the first cup he ever served you.”
I closed my eyes.
I knew exactly where it was.
My father had kept that chipped white cup inside a glass cabinet above the espresso machine, behind a row of special-edition mugs. He had told me it was too ugly to sell and too important to throw away.
I had never understood why.
Now I understood that my father had hidden something inside it.
The detective stood.
“We're sending officers to secure the café.”
But Daniel spoke again.
“Wait.”
His face had gone pale.
“There's something else you need to know. Victor wasn't the only person who had access to the bottle.”
I stared at the screen.
“Who else?”
May you like
Daniel looked toward someone outside the camera's view.
Then he whispered, “Maureen.”
