Chapter 3 - THE WHITE TRUCKPaul Mercer’s white pickup was spotted at a gas station south of town shortly after four in the afternoon.
A clerk recognized the license plate from the police alert and called immediately. Mercer had purchased bottled water, fuel and a highway map. He had also asked whether the road toward Kentucky was open after the morning storm.
Detective Morgan arrived at Ethan’s house while Carol was embroidering at the kitchen table.
“We know which direction he’s heading,” she said.
David stood near the sink. “Then arrest him.”
“We’re trying.”
“I’m coming.”
“No.”
“You expect me to sit here?”
“Yes.”
David gave a humorless laugh.
Rachel turned to Ethan. “Keep him here.”
“What am I supposed to do, tie him to a chair?”
“If necessary.”
She left before David could answer.
Ten minutes later, David took his truck keys from the counter.
Ethan blocked the door.
“You heard her.”
“I also heard Lily’s tape.”
“You don’t know where Mercer is.”
“I know every road south of here.”
“And every patrol car in the county is looking for him.”
“Patrol cars follow procedure. I know where men like Mercer hide.”
Carol put down her needle. “David, don’t.”
He avoided her eyes.
Their father had died when David and Carol were children. Harold had raised them beneath a system of rules built on punishment and fear. David had spent most of his adult life pretending those years had made him stronger.
The discovery of Lily’s body had revealed the truth.
He had never escaped Harold.
He had only learned to carry the anger differently.
“I need to do something,” David said.
“You can stay,” Carol replied. “That is something.”
A police radio crackled outside.
Rachel had left an officer near the house. His patrol car was parked beside the road.
David stared through the window.
Then the radio erupted with a voice.
“White pickup matching suspect vehicle northbound on County Route Nine.”
David looked at Ethan.
Neither spoke.
The patrol officer rushed from the porch and climbed into his car. Tires sprayed gravel as he accelerated toward the highway.
David opened the back door.
Ethan caught his shoulder.
“No.”
“Let go.”
“You’re not helping Lily by getting killed.”
David spun and shoved him.
Ethan stumbled into the table. Carol stood between them.
“That’s enough!”
David froze.
His hands trembled.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
Then he walked out.
Ethan followed.
They climbed into David’s truck with Carol shouting after them from the porch.
County Route Nine cut through miles of soybean fields and low wooded hills. David drove far above the speed limit, both hands rigid on the wheel.
“You have no idea where he is,” Ethan said.
“Mercer used to hunt near Slate Creek.”
“How do you know?”
“He took Grandpa there.”
Ethan turned toward him.
“When?”
“When we were kids. They’d disappear for entire weekends.”
“And you never thought it mattered?”
“I was twelve.”
The road curved beside an abandoned grain warehouse.
A white pickup appeared ahead.
David leaned forward.
“That’s him.”
“Call Rachel.”
“You call.”
Ethan pulled out his phone.
Before he could dial, Mercer’s truck slowed.
Its brake lights flashed.
Then it reversed directly toward them.
“David!”
David turned the wheel.
The rear of Mercer’s pickup struck the front corner of their truck with a violent crash. Metal screamed. Ethan’s shoulder slammed against the door.
David accelerated and pushed forward.
Mercer spun onto a dirt service road beside the warehouse.
David followed.
“Stop chasing him!”
“He’ll disappear again!”
Dust swallowed the windshield.
Mercer’s truck fishtailed across the dirt, knocking down a section of rusted fence. David drove through the opening. The vehicles raced between concrete silos and abandoned machinery.
Ethan reached Rachel.
“We found Mercer. Old grain warehouse near Slate Creek.”
“Do not engage him.”
“He rammed us.”
“Get away from the vehicle!”
Mercer turned sharply around a storage building.
David followed too fast.
A rusted trailer blocked the road.
David slammed the brakes.
Their truck skidded sideways and struck a wooden post. The passenger-side airbag exploded against Ethan’s chest.
For a moment, he could not breathe.
David forced open his door.
“Stay here.”
“Don’t—”
David ran toward the warehouse.
Ethan tore free from the airbag and followed.
Inside, the air was thick with dust. Sunlight entered through broken panels high above. Conveyor belts hung motionless across the building.
“Mercer!” David shouted.
A metal pipe swung from behind a support column.
It struck David across the shoulder and knocked him down.
Mercer emerged.
He was in his late sixties, broad through the chest, with gray hair flattened by sweat. He raised the pipe again.
Ethan charged from the side.
They collided and fell across the concrete.
Mercer struck Ethan in the ribs. Ethan caught his wrist before he could reach for the pipe. They rolled through dust and broken grain, each fighting for leverage.
Mercer was stronger than Ethan expected.
“Your sister should’ve kept quiet!” he growled.
Ethan drove his forehead into Mercer’s nose.
Mercer recoiled.
David tackled him against a conveyor support. The old structure shook above them.
Mercer pulled a handgun from beneath his jacket.
David grabbed his arm.
The gun fired.
The shot struck a metal chute overhead.
A flock of pigeons burst from the rafters.
Ethan seized Mercer’s wrist with both hands and slammed it against the concrete until the gun fell away.
Mercer kicked David in the knee and crawled toward it.
Ethan grabbed the back of Mercer’s shirt.
They wrestled beside an open maintenance shaft. Mercer’s boot slipped over the edge.
For one instant, Ethan held him suspended above the darkness.
Mercer looked up at him.
“You think your grandfather started this?” he gasped. “Harold was just the man Hale used when someone needed frightening.”
Ethan’s grip tightened.
“Where are the other girls?”
Mercer’s eyes widened.
“You don’t know.”
Sirens approached outside.
Mercer tried to pull Ethan over the edge with him.
David wrapped both arms around Ethan’s waist and dragged them backward. Mercer struck the floor hard.
Rachel entered with three officers, weapons raised.
“Hands where I can see them!”
Mercer stopped fighting.
He looked at Ethan with a strange, exhausted relief.
As officers placed him in handcuffs, Rachel kicked the gun away.
“You could’ve been killed,” she said.
Ethan pointed at Mercer.
“He said there were other girls.”
Mercer laughed softly.
Rachel crouched in front of him.
“Where?”
His laughter stopped.
“Hale kept the photographs. Harold kept the punishments. I kept the reports clean.”
“How many?”
Mercer looked toward the sunlight streaming through the roof.
“I stopped counting.”
David lunged.
Two officers restrained him before he reached Mercer.
“You buried children!” David shouted.
Mercer shook his head.
“Not children.”
His expression carried the same cold certainty Ethan remembered in Harold’s notebook.
“Troublemakers.”
David fought against the officers until Ethan stepped in front of him.
“Look at me.”
David continued struggling.
“Uncle David, look at me!”
Their eyes met.
“Don’t let them turn you into him.”
David stopped.
Mercer was taken outside.
Inside his truck, investigators found cash, forged identification and a folder containing photographs of six teenage girls.
Five were unknown to Ethan.
The sixth was Lily.
Across her photograph, in red ink, someone had drawn a line through her face.
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Beneath it were three words:
WALKER MATTER CLOSED.
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