Chapter 16
Three days passed without Mark appearing.
Every hour made me more nervous.
Detective Ruiz said fugitives often made mistakes when they felt pressure.
I wondered how much more pressure Mark could feel.
His accounts were frozen.
His company access was revoked.
Vanessa was cooperating.
The real evidence was with police.
His face was on internal law-enforcement alerts.
Yet he was still somewhere.
That uncertainty sat at our breakfast table every morning.
Emily sensed it.
Children always do.
One morning she pushed cereal around her bowl.
“Is Uncle Mark hiding?”
I looked at Dr. Patel.
She had joined us for a home session.
She gave me a small nod.
“Yes,” I said.
“Why?”
“Because police want to talk to him.”
“Because Mommy?”
“Yes.”
Emily looked down.
“Because me?”
My chest tightened.
“Some of it is about what happened to you.”
She grew quiet.
Then she asked, “Did I make trouble?”
“No.”
The answer came so fast it startled everyone.
I knelt beside her.
“You told the truth.”
“But police came.”
“Because adults made bad choices.”
“Madam went away.”
“Because of her choices.”
“Uncle Mark hiding.”
“Because of his choices.”
Emily stared at me.
“Not mine?”
“Never yours.”
Her shoulders relaxed.
Dr. Patel smiled.
That afternoon, Detective Ruiz called.
The state crime lab had completed a deeper examination of Sarah’s old car parts.
The vehicle had been stored after the insurance case because of a dispute over salvage ownership.
For once, bureaucracy had helped us.
A forensic mechanic found tool marks near the damaged brake line.
The line had not simply ruptured.
It had been weakened deliberately.
Curtis Graham’s records matched the timing.
Mark’s payment matched.
Sarah’s photograph placed Mark at the shop.
The case was no longer built on one frightened mechanic.
It was becoming a wall.
“Is it enough?” I asked.
“For an arrest warrant related to Sarah’s death?”
“Yes.”
I sat down.
“What charge?”
Ruiz paused.
“Murder.”
The word entered the room like a physical object.
Murder.
For three years, I had called Sarah’s death an accident.
I had stood at her grave and cursed rain.
Bad roads.
Bad luck.
Now someone was responsible.
My brother.
I looked at the framed photograph on my desk.
Sarah held newborn Emily against her chest.
I whispered, “I’m sorry.”
Ruiz heard me.
“Daniel?”
“I’m here.”
“We’re going to find him.”
An hour later, the company announced Mark’s formal removal.
Reporters appeared outside Mercer Development.
Then outside my house.
The domestic incident had already leaked.
Now Sarah’s reopened death investigation made everything worse.
Headlines appeared online.
MERCER FAMILY SCANDAL DEEPENS.
CEO’S WIFE ARRESTED.
BROTHER SOUGHT.
OLD DEATH QUESTIONED.
I stopped reading.
Rebecca handled public statements with our attorney.
The company released one sentence.
We are cooperating fully with law enforcement and supporting all affected family members.
Mark’s lawyer appeared on television.
He claimed Mark was not a fugitive.
He said Mark feared a “rush to judgment.”
I laughed when I heard that.
Ruiz did not.
“He’s communicating through counsel.”
“Can the lawyer tell you where he is?”
“He claims he doesn’t know.”
“Do you believe him?”
Ruiz gave me a look.
I had learned not to ask that question.
That evening, Vanessa’s attorney requested that she speak with me.
I refused.
Then he sent a message through the prosecutor.
She says there is something Sarah told her that only Daniel will understand.
I stared at the sentence.
Ruiz advised against direct contact.
“She can tell us.”
“She says she already did.”
“What is it?”
Ruiz checked her notes.
“She said Sarah once told her, ‘The person who loves Daniel most is the person he sees least clearly.’”
I felt confused.
“That could mean anyone.”
“Vanessa says it means Mark.”
I sat back.
Sarah had loved speaking in riddles when she wanted people to think.
The person who loves Daniel most.
I thought about Mark.
My mother.
Sarah.
Emily.
Then something clicked.
“No.”
Ruiz looked at me.
“What?”
“She didn’t mean Mark.”
“How do you know?”
“Because Sarah used to say that about my mother.”
Ruiz waited.
“My mother loved us so much she couldn’t see us clearly.”
Especially Mark.
I stood.
“Vanessa wants us looking at Mom.”
“Why?”
“Maybe Mark is there.”
“He already went there once.”
“No.”
I grabbed my phone.
“My mother owns another place.”
A small farmhouse two hours west.
It had belonged to my grandmother.
Mom never used it.
Mark knew it existed.
Ruiz was already making calls.
Police surrounded the farmhouse before midnight.
Mark was not inside.
But there was fresh food.
A sleeping bag.
A phone charger.
And a photograph of Emily torn from a family album.
May you like
On the back, Mark had written one sentence.
Daniel always chooses her.
