Chapter 3 - The Brother Who Came Back
Sadie demanded clothes.
Dr. Evans demanded sanity.
Neither woman got exactly what she wanted.
By noon Sadie was sitting in a leather chair near the bedroom fireplace, wearing soft black sweatpants, a loose gray shirt that accommodated her sling, and socks thick enough to qualify as winter equipment. Every movement hurt, but remaining in bed while strangers hunted for Ben felt worse.
Roman had converted the library across the hall into what Carter called a “temporary operations room.”
Sadie called it a room full of men staring at screens.
Maps covered one wall. Security footage looped on two monitors. A third displayed traffic cameras from the blocks surrounding the estate.
Ben appeared nowhere.
“He wanted you to see him,” Sadie said.
Carter glanced over.
“What?”
“At the garage. Ben looked straight at the camera.”
Roman stood at the far end of the table, sleeves rolled to his forearms.
“You think it was intentional.”
“I know it was.”
“Why?”
“Because Ben hates cameras.”
Carter stared at her.
Sadie shrugged carefully. “He stole a delivery van when he was nineteen. Got caught because he smiled at a gas-station security camera like he was posing for prom. Ever since then, he notices every lens in a room.”
Roman leaned both palms against the table.
“So he wanted me to know he was nearby.”
“Or he wanted me to know.”
“You were unconscious.”
“He didn’t know that.”
Roman considered it.
Sadie pointed to the map.
“What is underneath that garage?”
Carter answered. “Retail storage. Utility corridors. An old service tunnel.”
Roman looked at him.
“Where does the tunnel exit?”
Carter’s face changed.
“Saint Agnes.”
Sadie frowned. “The church?”
“Former church,” Roman said. “It has been closed for six years.”
Sadie’s heart began to race.
When she and Ben were children, their mother had taken them to Saint Agnes every Sunday until Sadie was fourteen. Ben used to hide beneath the basement stairs to avoid catechism.
“He knows that building.”
Roman’s attention sharpened.
“How well?”
“Well enough to disappear inside it.”
Twenty minutes later, Roman refused to let her go.
Sadie refused to remain behind.
The argument lasted forty seconds.
“I can walk.”
“You can barely breathe without making a face.”
“I always make this face.”
“You have three fractured ribs.”
“And Ben is my brother.”
Roman’s gaze hardened.
“This is not a democracy.”
Sadie stared at him.
“Then congratulations on losing your only tour guide.”
Carter coughed into his fist.
Roman looked at him.
Carter immediately became fascinated by a monitor.
Five minutes later, Sadie was in the back of an armored SUV.
Roman sat opposite her.
“You are enjoying this.”
“Being concussed?”
“Winning.”
Sadie rested her head against the seat.
“A little.”
Saint Agnes looked smaller than Sadie remembered.
The stained-glass windows had been boarded over. Ivy had swallowed the brick walls. Rainwater dripped from a rusted gutter above the side entrance.
Carter’s men entered first.
Sadie followed Roman through the old parish hall.
Dust hung in the air.
The smell brought back childhood so suddenly that her chest hurt for reasons unrelated to broken ribs.
“My mother used to make us sit in the front row,” she whispered.
Roman looked at her.
“She believed God could see trouble better if you put it close to the altar.”
“Did it work?”
“Have you met my brother?”
A faint sound came from below.
Metal scraping concrete.
Sadie stopped.
“Ben?”
No answer.
Carter raised a hand.
Two men moved toward the basement stairwell.
Sadie stepped around them.
Roman caught her uninjured arm.
“Stay behind me.”
She looked at his hand.
He released her.
They descended.
The basement was dark except for one emergency light glowing near the old boiler room.
A figure sat against the wall.
“Ben.”
Sadie forgot every injury and moved.
Pain punished her immediately, but she reached him.
Ben’s face was bruised, though not nearly as badly as hers. His hooded sweatshirt was dirty. One hand was wrapped in a strip torn from his shirt.
His eyes opened.
“Sades?”
She hit him.
Not hard.
A slap across the shoulder.
Then she grabbed his jacket with her good hand and started crying.
“You idiot.”
“I know.”
“You unbelievable, selfish—”
“I know.”
“They nearly killed me.”
Ben’s face collapsed.
That stopped her.
He looked at the bruises on her face as if seeing each one individually.
“Oh, God.”
Sadie backed away.
“Don’t.”
“I didn’t know they would—”
“You borrowed forty thousand dollars from Tommy Sullivan.”
“I know.”
“You disappeared.”
“I was trying to fix it.”
“With what? More gambling?”
Ben looked toward Roman.
Fear crossed his face.
“That’s him.”
Roman remained near the stairs.
“Yes,” Sadie said. “That’s him.”
Ben tried to stand.
His knees failed.
Carter caught him before he hit the floor.
“I’m fine,” Ben muttered.
“No one in your family understands that phrase,” Carter said.
Roman stepped closer.
“Where is the ledger?”
Ben laughed nervously.
“Straight to business.”
Roman said nothing.
Ben looked at Sadie.
“I stole it.”
“We established that.”
“I didn’t steal it because I’m brave.”
“I also established that.”
His mouth twitched, then disappeared.
“I was going to sell it.”
Sadie closed her eyes.
Of course.
Ben continued. “I heard Tommy talking about it at the card room. Said Vane kept records because he didn’t trust anybody. I figured if it was important enough, someone would pay.”
Roman’s voice became colder.
“Who?”
“A reporter first.”
Carter muttered, “Wonderful.”
“She backed out. Then I called a lawyer in Chicago who handles whistleblowers.”
Sadie stared.
“You were going to become a whistleblower?”
“I was going to become debt-free.”
At least he was honest.
“What happened?”
Ben looked at Roman.
“I found something in it that scared me.”
“What?”
“Names. Payments. Old stuff too.”
Roman’s expression changed slightly.
“How old?”
“Fifteen years.”
Ben reached inside his jacket.
Carter tensed.
Ben slowly removed a small brass key.
“Safe-deposit box.”
“Where?” Roman asked.
“First Oakhaven Trust.”
Sadie frowned.
“That bank closed.”
“The downtown branch did. The private vault didn’t.”
Roman held out his hand.
Ben did not give him the key.
“There’s something you should know first.”
Roman waited.
Ben looked at Sadie.
“Dad’s name is in the ledger.”
Sadie stopped breathing.
Their father, Daniel Mercer, had died when she was fifteen.
A car accident on an icy highway.
That was the story she had lived with for half her life.
“What do you mean?”
Ben swallowed.
“Payments to Daniel Mercer. Every month for almost three years.”
Sadie looked at Roman.
He had become completely still.
“You knew.”
Roman’s silence answered first.
Sadie stood.
The basement swayed.
She ignored it.
“You knew my father.”
Roman spoke carefully.
“Yes.”
Her stomach turned.
“How?”
Roman’s eyes stayed on hers.
“Your father worked for my family.”
The room seemed to shrink.
Sadie heard the rain hitting the boarded windows upstairs.
She heard Ben breathing.
She heard Carter shift his weight.
“My father repaired elevators.”
“No.”
Roman’s voice was quiet.
“He was an accountant.”
Sadie felt as though someone had struck her again.
“For you?”
“For my father.”
She moved toward Roman before anybody could stop her.
“You knew my name in the alley because of Ben?”
Roman did not answer.
“Or because of my father?”
His jaw tightened.
“Both.”
Sadie stared at him.
Every moment since the alley rearranged itself in her head.
The rescue.
The estate.
The medical care.
The strange patience.
Leverage.
Not charity.
Not coincidence.
Roman had recognized her.
“You didn’t pick up a stranger,” she whispered.
“No.”
“You picked up Daniel Mercer’s daughter.”
Roman’s eyes darkened.
Sadie’s voice dropped.
“Tell me how my father really died.”
For the first time since she met him, Roman Hail looked like a man who wanted to leave the room.
He did not.
“Not here.”
Sadie’s laugh was broken and furious.
“No more private rooms. No more controlled conversations. Tell me now.”
Roman looked at Ben.
Then Carter.
Then back at Sadie.
“Your father found evidence that Marcus Vane was stealing from my father’s organization.”
Sadie’s heart pounded against her damaged ribs.
“He planned to testify.”
She could barely hear her own voice.
“And?”
Roman answered.
“Three days later, his car went off the highway.”
The basement went silent.
Sadie stared at the man who had dragged her out of an alley.
May you like
Then she asked the only question that mattered.
“Did your family kill him?”
