Chapter 9 - The Man in the Passenger SeatThe photograph destroyed one version of the truth. What it revealed next nearly destroyed me.
The photograph had been taken at 7:43 p.m.
Twenty-eight minutes before Ethan's crash.
Detective Ellis enlarged it.
The passenger's hand wore a gold watch with an engraved crown.
Nathan Mercer’s watch.
I remembered it.
He had worn it every Sunday.
After his death, Margaret told me it had been buried with him.
“Can the watch be identified?” I asked.
Ellis nodded.
“Possibly.”
She sent the photograph to a specialist.
The answer came the next day.
The watch was authentic.
It had been manufactured in 1989.
The engraving matched Nathan Mercer’s initials.
But Nathan was still dead.
So someone had his watch.
We went back to Margaret.
When she saw the photograph, she collapsed into a chair.
“That isn't possible.”
“You buried it,” I said.
“Yes.”
“Did you?”
She began to cry.
“No.”
I stared.
“You didn't?”
“Derek took it.”
“Why?”
“He said it belonged to the family.”
“Where is it now?”
She shook her head.
“I don't know.”
“Who was in Ethan's car?”
Margaret looked at me.
“You really don't know?”
“No.”
She whispered:
“Your husband told me his father had a second family.”
Silence.
I thought I had misheard.
“What?”
“Nathan had another son.”
Derek and Ethan weren't his only children.
There was another man.
A son born before Nathan married Margaret.
His name was Luke Mercer.
He had disappeared years earlier.
“What does he look like?”
Margaret gave me a photograph.
The man in the picture was older now.
But I recognized him.
He was the man I had seen at Ethan's funeral.
Standing behind the trees.
Watching.
A man I had assumed was a reporter.
“Where is he?”
Margaret whispered:
“I don't know.”
Detective Ellis traced him within twenty-four hours.
Luke Mercer lived in Tennessee.
He agreed to meet.
He arrived alone.
He wore no gold watch.
Instead, he carried a folder.
“I didn't kill Ethan,” he said.
“I didn't accuse you.”
“You were going to.”
“No.”
He smiled.
“You have his face.”
“Who?”
“Your husband.”
I sat across from him.
“Why were you in his car?”
“I wasn't.”
I placed the photograph on the table.
“That looks like your hand.”
“It is.”
My heart slammed.
“Then you were there.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“To warn him.”
“About what?”
“Derek.”
Luke opened the folder.
Inside was a series of photographs.
Derek meeting Paul.
Derek meeting Grant.
Derek handing an envelope to a mechanic.
And then one photograph that turned my blood cold.
Derek standing beside Ethan’s car two days before the accident.
“There,” Luke said.
A mechanic was crouched near the front wheel.
“What is he doing?”
“Disabling a secondary brake system.”
I stared.
“Why?”
“Because Derek wanted the crash to look natural.”
“Why didn't you stop him?”
“I tried.”
“Then why did you get into Ethan's car that night?”
Luke looked down.
“Because Ethan called me.”
“What did he say?”
“That he knew Derek had done it.”
My throat tightened.
“What happened?”
“Ethan thought he could use the evidence to force Derek to confess.”
“He was wrong.”
Luke nodded.
“He underestimated him.”
“Did you know Ethan would die?”
“No.”
“But you were there.”
“Yes.”
“Then where were you during the crash?”
Luke looked at the table.
“Outside the vehicle.”
I froze.
“What?”
“The photograph was taken before I got out.”
“Why?”
“To avoid being seen.”
“By whom?”
“Paul.”
“Paul was there?”
Luke nodded.
“He followed us.”
“What happened after you got out?”
“I watched him drive past.”
“Then?”
“Ethan drove alone.”
“What about Derek?”
Luke reached into his folder.
He pulled out one final image.
Derek’s SUV.
Parked behind Paul’s truck.
And beneath it, a timestamp.
8:02 p.m.
The accident happened at 8:11.
I looked at Luke.
“Why didn't you go to the police?”
His voice broke.
“Because Derek threatened my daughter.”
I went still.
“You have a daughter?”
“Yes.”
“Where is she?”
“Safe.”
“Derek doesn't know?”
“He thinks she is in a different state.”
I looked at the photographs.
For years, the Mercers had lived inside a web of threats, lies, and money.
Ethan had tried to cut through it.
Now I had no choice.
Because the next message on my phone wasn't from the police.
It was from Derek.
I know you found Luke.
May you like
Then another.
You should ask yourself what happens to everyone who helps you.
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