Chapter 4 - The Missing SecretaryHer name was Evelyn Shaw.
I spent half the night searching for her.
Nothing.
No social media.
No current address.
No employment records after my father’s death.
It was as if she had vanished.
Daniel had given me only one clue.
A church in Franklin.
“Why there?” I asked.
“She used to volunteer there.”
I drove out before sunrise.
The church was almost empty.
An elderly priest named Father Thomas greeted me.
When I said Evelyn’s name, he immediately frowned.
“She told me someone might come looking.”
My heart stopped.
“When?”
“Years ago.”
“Did she leave a message?”
He nodded.
Then disappeared into a back room.
He returned with a sealed envelope.
My father’s handwriting was on it.
I tore it open.
Inside was a photograph.
My father.
Thomas Hawthorne.
Daniel Mercer.
And a fourth man.
Ryan.
Except Ryan was eighteen years old.
On the back were three words.
HE WAS THERE.
I stared at the photograph.
“Where?”
Father Thomas crossed himself.
“The warehouse.”
“What warehouse?”
“The night your father confronted Thomas.”
I felt sick.
“My father’s death was an accident.”
Father Thomas looked at me sadly.
“That is what the police concluded.”
“You think it wasn’t?”
“I think your father knew he was in danger.”
“Why didn’t anyone tell me?”
“Because your mother begged us to keep you safe.”
I swallowed.
“Safe from who?”
He didn’t answer.
My phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered.
“Hello?”
A woman spoke.
“Emily.”
I knew the voice.
Patricia.
“Where are you?”
“Why?”
“You need to come home.”
“I don’t have a home with you.”
She ignored that.
“Ryan has been trying to reach you.”
“He can call me himself.”
“He is in danger.”
I froze.
“What?”
“He found out the truth.”
“What truth?”
Patricia’s voice dropped.
“The trust.”
I stared at Father Thomas.
“What happened to Ryan?”
“He went to see Daniel Mercer.”
My blood went cold.
“When?”
“An hour ago.”
The line went dead.
I called Ryan.
Straight to voicemail.
I called again.
Nothing.
I called Daniel.
No answer.
Panic began rising through me.
Father Thomas grabbed my arm.
“Emily.”
I turned.
“There’s one more thing.”
“What?”
“Your father never trusted Thomas Hawthorne.”
He looked directly into my eyes.
“But he trusted Ryan.”
I stared at him.
“That makes no sense.”
“It didn’t make sense to me either.”
“Then why would he leave this?”
Father Thomas shook his head.
“I think your father believed Ryan might one day have to choose between his family and you.”
My phone buzzed.
A text.
From Ryan.
I opened it.
One sentence.
I was wrong about my family.
Then another message arrived.
A photo.
A warehouse.
An old red door.
And a man standing in front of it.
May you like
Daniel Mercer.
With blood on his shirt.
