Chapter 10 - The Hunting Lodge
The lodge smelled like cedar, old smoke, and decisions made by men who thought walls could keep secrets.
Grant had not been there in fifteen years.
His key still worked.
That bothered me.
We did not go alone despite Michael’s instruction.
Alvarez had teams in the woods.
Grant came.
Sarah came.
I came.
Lily did not.
That was not negotiable.
Rourke remained in protective custody.
The lodge sat beside a black lake beneath low gray clouds.
Inside, old photographs lined the walls.
Men holding fish.
Men with rifles.
Men shaking hands.
August Mercer appeared in half of them.
So did Grant.
Then Sarah stopped before one.
“Dad.”
Grant turned.
The photograph showed Grant at forty.
Beside him stood a younger man with dark hair.
Michael Reeves.
Grant’s unknown son.
My half-brother.
Sarah’s half-brother.
He looked enough like Grant that now it seemed impossible no one had noticed.
But people see what paperwork tells them to see.
“He worked security at the retreat,” Grant whispered.
“You liked him?”
“Yes.”
“Did he like you?”
Grant looked at the photograph.
“I thought so.”
A television in the den turned on by itself.
We all froze.
Michael appeared on screen.
Live.
“Welcome home.”
Alvarez’s voice came through my hidden earpiece.
“Signal local.”
Michael smiled.
“Claire, take out the earpiece.”
I did not.
“Take it out or I shut down.”
I removed it.
Placed it on the table.
Grant did too.
Sarah hesitated.
Then followed.
Michael leaned back.
He was in another room.
Maybe the lodge.
Maybe elsewhere.
“You look like Margaret,” he said to me.
“So I’ve heard.”
“She was difficult.”
“So am I.”
His mouth twitched.
“I noticed.”
“Why Lily?”
He sighed.
“You make everything emotional.”
“She’s four.”
“Exactly.”
“That wasn’t an answer.”
“Lily’s age made the trust vulnerable.”
“So you took her.”
“I needed time.”
“You had five months.”
“To find Margaret’s override.”
“The memory card.”
“Yes.”
“You knew it would come to my salon.”
“Eventually.”
“Then why didn’t Marianne just give me the card?”
“Because she didn’t know you were Claire Mercer.”
I frowned.
“Who did?”
“Rourke. Henry. Eleanor. Robert. Me.”
“Grant didn’t.”
“No.”
“Sarah didn’t.”
“No.”
“You controlled Marianne?”
Michael smiled.
“I paid her.”
“To kidnap Lily?”
“To shelter her.”
“Stop changing nouns.”
His smile disappeared.
Good.
“She was told Sarah faced a credible threat.”
“Did Sarah?”
“Yes.”
That surprised us.
Michael continued.
“Someone attempted to poison Sarah six months ago.”
Sarah went pale.
“What?”
“Your food allergy incident.”
She stared.
“I thought the restaurant made a mistake.”
“They didn’t.”
“Who?”
“Committee member.”
“You?”
“No.”
“Name.”
“Not yet.”
There it was.
Always another layer.
“Why take Lily instead of protecting Sarah?”
“Because Lily was the next target.”
Grant shouted, “You could have told us.”
Michael looked at him.
“You?”
That one word carried decades.
“You spent your life signing what August gave you.”
Grant flinched.
Michael continued.
“You would have turned to Mercer Security.”
“I did.”
“Exactly.”
“You were Mercer Security.”
“Exactly.”
The trap was elegant.
Grant would have asked the kidnapper to investigate the kidnapping.
Michael leaned closer.
“I removed Lily before the committee could kill her.”
Sarah whispered, “Then why tell her I abandoned her?”
Michael’s face changed.
“I didn’t.”
“Marianne did.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you stop her?”
Silence.
“Because you weren’t protecting a child. You were controlling an asset.”
Michael looked away.
That was answer enough.
I felt both anger and a tiny terrible possibility that he had saved Lily from something worse.
People can protect and abuse at the same time.
That did not cancel either.
“What do you want?”
“The trust dissolved.”
“Why?”
“Because August built it to keep us fighting.”
That I understood.
“Then why not let me dissolve it after ten years?”
“Because ten years is plenty of time for people to die.”
Fair.
“Who else is on the committee?”
Michael smiled sadly.
“You’re still assuming I lead it.”
My skin chilled.
“Who?”
The screen changed.
A live camera feed.
My father.
Henry Bennett.
Sitting at a table.
Safe.
Beside Eleanor and Robert.
Behind them stood a woman.
Mid-sixties.
Red hair.
Elegant.
I didn’t know her.
Grant did.
“Carolyn.”
Michael’s mother.
Grant’s college girlfriend.
Alive.
Of course.
Carolyn stepped into frame.
“Hello, Grant.”
He went white.
Michael said, “My mother has chaired the Continuity Committee for twenty-seven years.”
The room tilted.
Grant whispered, “No.”
Carolyn smiled.
“You always did believe the quiet women left the room when told.”
Sarah looked at me.
There it was.
The committee created to prevent women from gaining control was now led by a woman who had survived being bought off by August.
Irony did not make her good.
Carolyn continued.
“August paid me to disappear. Then he paid me to raise Michael knowing exactly what had been taken from him.”
Michael’s jaw tightened.
“I learned young that Mercer men only understand leverage.”
I looked at Grant.
He seemed shattered.
“You could have contacted me.”
Carolyn laughed.
“You married Margaret.”
“You left.”
“Your father threatened my parents.”
“I didn’t know.”
“No. You never knew anything that inconvenienced you.”
Grant accepted it.
Again.
The older man had spent a lifetime being unknowingly useful.
Carolyn looked at me.
“Claire, you are the correction Margaret designed.”
“Yes.”
“I am asking you to refuse.”
“Why?”
“Because if you take control, the remaining committee members will not stop.”
“Who remains?”
She smiled.
“One is in this room.”
Everyone froze.
I looked at Sarah.
Grant.
Myself.
No one else.
Then a floorboard creaked behind us.
Detective Alvarez entered.
Gun lowered.
Expression unreadable.
My heart stopped.
Carolyn said through the screen:
“Hello, Rosa.”
Alvarez closed the lodge door.
And locked it.
Sarah reached for my hand under the table. Grant did not move at all. The lodge suddenly felt smaller, every polished board and hunting photograph turned into part of a trap built long before any of us arrived. I watched Alvarez’s face, looking for the woman who had stood beside Lily at the salon and the stranger Carolyn seemed to know. Both were there. That frightened me more than a drawn gun would have.
May you like
“Whatever happens next,” I whispered to Sarah, “stay behind me.”
She squeezed my fingers. “Not a chance.”
