Chapter 10 - I LET EVERYONE BELIEVE I'D ABANDONED THE GIRL
The hardest part of my plan was telling Noah.
I could lie to Victor.
I could mislead Silas.
I could sit at my dining table and pretend Leah Mercer no longer mattered.
But I would not let my son hear another lie from me and mistake it for abandonment.
So I told him enough of the truth.
We sat in the kitchen Sunday morning.
Noah wore pajamas.
His hair stood in every direction.
He looked painfully young.
“Dad?”
“Yes?”
“Why did Victor come here?”
“Business.”
He frowned.
“I thought you fired him.”
“From your security arrangements.”
“Not everything?”
“No.”
He looked disappointed.
I understood.
Then I explained.
“Some people believe I've stopped looking for Wren's mother.”
Noah stared.
“Have you?”
“No.”
“Then why do they think that?”
“Because I want them to stop hiding things from us.”
He considered.
“Like when you pretend not to know where someone is during hide-and-seek?”
I almost smiled.
“Something like that.”
He leaned forward.
“Does Wren know?”
“She and Mrs. Finch will be told what they need to know by Detective Brooks. I don't want her frightened by rumors.”
Noah nodded.
That mattered.
I had learned something from the last few weeks.
Plans were not worth much if they required hurting the people they were supposed to protect.
I continued.
“You might hear people say I'm not helping her.”
Noah's eyes changed.
“Are you going to tell them they're wrong?”
“Not immediately.”
“Why?”
“Because if the people involved think they've won, they may make mistakes.”
He looked at me.
“Then please don't forget to tell her afterward.”
I felt something tighten inside my chest.
“I won't.”
He studied my face.
“Promise?”
“Real promise.”
He smiled faintly.
Then went upstairs to get dressed.
I remained at the kitchen table thinking about how strange fatherhood had become.
I used to believe protecting Noah meant building walls around him.
More guards.
More money.
More rules.
Now it meant telling him enough truth that he could trust me even when the world became confusing.
At ten, I met with Detective Brooks and Avery Bell.
They had traced the new payment.
The transfer originated from a company connected to Silas.
It moved through three accounts.
Then reached Hudson Quay Marina Holdings.
The property Victor managed.
Avery spread documents across the table.
“There's a scheduled service vehicle.”
I leaned closer.
“Which company?”
“Eastbridge.”
“When?”
“Six tomorrow morning.”
Brooks looked at me.
“We're pursuing the necessary legal authorizations and coordinating with the agencies involved. Do not go to the marina.”
I stared.
“Leah could be there.”
“Yes.”
“And if they move her?”
“We're preparing for that.”
I exhaled.
“What can I do?”
“Stop interfering.”
I almost laughed.
“That's difficult for me.”
“I've noticed.”
Then she added:
“You can give us every document your companies possess concerning Hudson Quay.”
I looked at Avery.
She nodded.
“We've already identified the records.”
“Then send them.”
Brooks studied me.
“Voluntarily?”
“Yes.”
“You understand some records may implicate you?”
I looked at her.
“I understand.”
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Then I said:
“If I have to choose between protecting my reputation and finding Leah, I choose Leah.”
Brooks nodded.
“Good.”
That afternoon, Victor called.
For the first time since our confrontation, he sounded relaxed.
“Gabriel.”
“Victor.”
“I heard you're stepping back from Harborline.”
“That's right.”
“Smart.”
I stared at my window.
“Maybe.”
“Silas is pleased.”
“Good for him.”
Victor laughed.
Then:
“What about the child?”
I felt cold.
“Wren?”
“Yes.”
“She's not my responsibility.”
The words tasted poisonous.
I hated saying them.
But I needed Victor to believe I had returned to the man he knew.
Victor exhaled.
“Good.”
I stared.
“Why good?”
“Because sometimes children become involved in matters they don't understand.”
My hand tightened around the phone.
“She's eight.”
“Exactly.”
I closed my eyes.
Then asked:
“Where's Leah?”
Silence.
I waited.
Victor finally said:
“Gabriel, you've made the right decision. Don't ruin it.”
The call ended.
I sat very still.
He had not answered.
But he had spoken as if he knew what would happen if I continued asking.
That evening, I received another message.
Unknown number.
A photograph of a gray transport van.
Underneath:
STAY HOME TOMORROW.
For a moment, I wondered whether Victor had sent it.
Then I looked more closely.
The van was parked beside a loading bay.
Its reflection appeared in a large window.
Behind it stood a small figure.
A woman.
Brown hair.
Pale face.
One hand pressed against the glass.
I enlarged the image.
The woman's features were blurred.
But she appeared to be looking directly at the camera.
I felt my heart pounding.
Leah.
Maybe.
Then another message arrived.
SHE'S ALIVE. DON'T TRUST THE SCHEDULE.
I stared.
Someone inside the operation was trying to warn me.
Someone who knew the relocation paperwork was misleading.
I called Brooks.
She asked me to forward everything.
Then:
“Gabriel, did the sender include anything else?”
“No.”
“Any identifying mark?”
I looked at the photograph again.
The window.
The van.
The woman's hand.
Then I noticed a reflection above the loading bay.
A faded sign.
Two words.
MERCER STORAGE.
I stopped breathing.
Mercer.
Leah's surname.
I didn't know whether it was coincidence, family property, or a deliberate clue.
May you like
But it was something.
And for the first time, I wondered whether Leah herself had found a way to send us the photograph.
