Chapter 2 - THE NAME ON THE OPERATING TABLEDominic Mercer had seen men die before.
He had seen death in alleys, warehouses, hospitals, and once in the back seat of a limousine when he was seventeen years old and his father had made him watch what happened to men who betrayed the family.
But none of those memories prepared him for the sight of Mara Ellis disappearing behind the operating-room doors.
Caleb’s blood-covered hand was still gripping his sleeve.
Except the blood wasn’t Caleb’s.
It was hers.
“Daddy?”
Dominic looked down.
His son stood barefoot in the hospital corridor.
Someone had removed Caleb’s tuxedo jacket. His white shirt was stained red.
“Mara is going to die.”
“No.”
Dominic answered too quickly.
Caleb began crying.
“She got hurt because of me.”
Dominic crouched.
“No. Listen to me. None of this is because of you.”
“But the man shot at me.”
Dominic remembered Mara’s final words.
He wasn’t shooting at Caleb.
Then whose six-year-old son had apparently been used as bait?
Dominic pulled Caleb close.
Twenty feet away, Vincent Caruso, his head of security, waited.
Dominic looked over Caleb’s shoulder.
“Find everyone who worked the gala.”
“We already locked the property down.”
“I said everyone.”
Vincent understood.
“No one leaves.”
“And find the man who approached Mara after the shooting.”
“The one who whispered to her?”
Dominic’s eyes hardened.
“Yes.”
Vincent hesitated.
“What did he say?”
Dominic stood.
“Elena Voss.”
Vincent’s reaction was nearly invisible.
Nearly.
Dominic saw it.
“You recognize the name.”
“No.”
“You paused.”
“I was thinking.”
“Think faster.”
Vincent lowered his voice.
“We should discuss this privately.”
That answer told Dominic everything.
“Take Caleb to my sister.”
“Daddy—”
“I’m not leaving the hospital.”
Caleb grabbed his hand.
“Promise?”
Dominic looked toward the operating doors.
“I promise.”
After Caleb left, Dominic followed Vincent into an empty consultation room.
Vincent shut the door.
“Where did you hear that name?”
“I just told you.”
“Mara?”
“Yes.”
Vincent rubbed a hand over his jaw.
“Elena Voss died eight years ago.”
Dominic stared at him.
“Who was she?”
“That depends which version you believe.”
“I’m asking you.”
Vincent exhaled.
“She worked for Elias Voss.”
Dominic’s expression changed.
Everyone in his world knew that name.
Elias Voss had been a financial strategist for organized crime families from New York to Miami. Not muscle. Not a boss.
Something more dangerous.
He knew where money moved.
Which companies were fronts.
Which judges were owned.
Which politicians accepted cash.
Eight years ago, Voss had disappeared after an explosion destroyed his Connecticut home.
His twenty-four-year-old daughter, Elena, had supposedly died with him.
Dominic looked through the glass wall toward the operating wing.
“Mara is Elena Voss.”
“If the man said that name, it’s possible.”
“No.”
Dominic shook his head.
“Possible means uncertainty. I saw her face when she heard it.”
Vincent said nothing.
“She knew.”
A surgeon entered forty minutes later.
Dominic stood so quickly the chair struck the wall.
“Mr. Mercer?”
“Yes.”
“She survived the operation.”
Dominic closed his eyes.
Only for a second.
“The bullets?”
“One passed through her shoulder. One caused significant internal bleeding. The third fractured a rib and damaged part of her lung.”
“Will she live?”
“We believe so.”
Believe.
Dominic hated that word.
“When can I see her?”
“Not tonight.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
The surgeon stared at him.
Dominic remembered this wasn’t one of his employees.
He softened his voice.
“When?”
“Tomorrow, if she remains stable.”
Dominic sat beside Mara’s hospital bed at dawn.
He wasn’t supposed to be there yet.
Rules had always been negotiable in his experience.
Machines surrounded her.
Her skin looked pale against the pillow.
For months, she had moved through his home quietly.
Invisible when she wanted to be.
But Dominic had noticed things.
The way she automatically scanned exits.
How she stood with her back to walls.
How quickly she noticed unfamiliar vehicles.
How she once caught a falling kitchen knife by the handle without thinking, then pretended it had been luck.
He had known she was lying about something.
He had never imagined she was a dead woman.
Mara woke at 8:12 a.m.
Her eyes opened slowly.
Then immediately sharpened.
“Caleb.”
“Safe.”
Her body relaxed.
Dominic leaned forward.
“He hasn’t left the hospital.”
“You should take him home.”
“My sister is with him.”
Mara’s eyes moved toward the door.
Checking.
Always checking.
Dominic spoke quietly.
“Who is Elena Voss?”
Her face emptied.
“Mara.”
“That’s my name.”
“No. It isn’t.”
Her heart monitor accelerated.
Dominic noticed.
“So the man was right.”
“Get out.”
“You saved my child.”
“Then repay me by leaving.”
“Someone shot you inside my house.”
“He missed his opportunity.”
“He hit you three times.”
“And I’m still breathing.”
Dominic stared at her.
“You knew they might come.”
Mara closed her eyes.
“No.”
“Then why are you afraid?”
Her eyes reopened.
“I’ve been afraid for eight years.”
That was the first true thing she gave him.
Dominic leaned back.
“Tell me what happened.”
“I can’t.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
“Both.”
A knock interrupted them.
A nurse entered carrying flowers.
“For Ms. Ellis.”
Mara immediately frowned.
“I don’t know anyone who would send flowers.”
Dominic stood.
The bouquet was white roses.
No card was visible.
The nurse set them on the windowsill and left.
Mara stared.
White roses.
Dominic noticed her breathing change.
“What?”
“Throw them away.”
“Why?”
“Dominic.”
It was the first time she had used his first name.
“Throw them away.”
He lifted the bouquet.
Something slipped from between the stems.
A black envelope.
Dominic opened it.
Inside was a photograph.
Mara at nineteen.
Standing beside an older man.
Elias Voss.
Written across the bottom in red ink were five words:
YOUR FATHER IS STILL ALIVE.
Mara ripped the oxygen tube from beneath her nose.
“No.”
Dominic looked at her.
“You watched him die?”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
The strength went out of her face.
“There was a fire.”
“The reports said an explosion.”
“The explosion came after.”
Dominic’s eyes narrowed.
“How did you survive?”
Mara’s voice broke.
“My father pushed me through a basement window.”
“And then?”
“I ran.”
“What were you running from?”
She stared at the photograph.
“My father had spent twenty years keeping records for people who believed records should never exist.”
Dominic understood.
“A ledger.”
“Not one.”
Her eyes met his.
“Hundreds.”
Dominic went silent.
Mara continued.
“He was building an archive. Payments. murders. bribes. shell companies. judges. police officers. federal agents.”
“Why?”
“I thought it was insurance.”
“You thought?”
“Until the night our house burned.”
Dominic lowered the photograph.
“What happened that night?”
“My father woke me at two in the morning. He gave me a flash drive and told me to run.”
“Where is it?”
“Gone.”
“You destroyed it?”
Mara looked away.
Dominic knew immediately.
“You hid it.”
“Eight years ago.”
“Where?”
“I’m not telling you.”
“I’m trying to keep you alive.”
“That’s what my father said.”
Silence settled between them.
Then Mara whispered, “He died thirty seconds later.”
Dominic’s phone vibrated.
Vincent.
He answered.
“What?”
Vincent spoke quickly.
Dominic’s expression changed.
“When?”
Another pause.
“Lock down the hospital.”
Mara struggled upright.
“What happened?”
Dominic lowered the phone.
“The gunman from the gala was found forty minutes ago.”
“Alive?”
“No.”
“Where?”
“In the Hudson.”
Mara stared.
Dominic wasn’t finished.
“There was something inside his coat.”
“What?”
“A photograph of you.”
Mara’s face drained.
Dominic stepped closer.
“Taken yesterday.”
The hospital door opened.
A detective entered.
Dominic recognized him.
Detective Warren Hale.
NYPD Organized Crime.
Hale looked first at Dominic.
Then at Mara.
And smiled.
“Mara Ellis?”
She didn’t answer.
Hale closed the door.
“You’ve caused quite a problem.”
Dominic’s instincts screamed.
Mara’s did too.
Her hand reached beneath her pillow.
There was nothing there.
Hale noticed.
His smile widened.
“Or should I call you Elena?”
Dominic moved between them.
Hale raised both hands.
“Relax, Mercer.”
“How do you know that name?”
Hale’s smile vanished.
“Because eight years ago, I helped bury her.”
Mara whispered one word.
“No.”
Hale looked directly at her.
“And Elena?”
May you like
His voice dropped.
“Your father wants his ledger back.”
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