Chapter 12: The Other Ledger
For ten minutes, I wanted the ledger to be fake.
I enlarged every line.
Dates.
Amounts.
Initials.
Rachel's handwriting.
At least it looked like Rachel's handwriting.
But one sentence didn't turn Patricia into the victim.
Not yet.
I forwarded the photograph to Mercer.
Then I called my mother.
“Go back to the box.””
“Daniel, it's six in the morning.””
“Please.””
She heard something in my voice.
“All right.””
While she searched, Chloe walked into the living room.
Her hair was tangled.
“Is Mom okay?””
“I think so.””
“You don't sound like you think so.””
She sat beside me.
I hated how quickly she'd learned to read adult fear.
“Your mom is dealing with something complicated.””
“Is Grandma Patricia in trouble?””
I looked at her.
“Why would you ask that?””
Chloe picked at her sleeve.
“Because she burns papers.””
Every muscle in my body tightened.
“What?””
“At her house.””
“When?””
“Sometimes.””
“What kind of papers?””
“I don't know. She has a metal thing outside.””
A fire pit.
“Did you see her burn something recently?””
Chloe nodded.
“After she gave Mom the envelope.””
The Orlando deposit.
“What happened?””
“Mom and Grandma were arguing. Mom said she didn't want to do it anymore.””
My heart jumped.
“Do what?””
“I couldn't hear everything.””
“What did you hear?””
Chloe squeezed her hands together.
“Mom said, ‘He's just a little kid.’”
I swallowed.
“And Grandma?””
“She said, ‘Then stop thinking of him like one.’”
A chill moved through me.
“Anything else?””
“Grandma said October was coming.””
I hugged Chloe.
“You did the right thing telling me.””
“Is Mom bad?””
The question hurt.
I chose my words carefully.
“Your mom has made some serious choices. But she's still your mom, and you can love her while being upset about those choices.””
Chloe leaned against me.
“Can Ethan still be my brother?””
I held her tighter.
“He doesn't stop being your brother because adults make mistakes.””
My phone rang.
Mercer.
“I received the ledger.””
“And?””
“Do you have the original?””
“No.””
“Get it.””
“Is it real?””
“I recognize some entries.””
My stomach dropped.
“So Rachel took money?””
“That's not what those entries show.””
I stood.
“What do they show?””
“Those appear to be disbursements from a partnership account.””
“What partnership?””
“Rachel's father and Patricia jointly managed several charitable property investments.””
That was new.
“Patricia said Rachel stole from them.””
“Patricia has made that allegation before.””
“Was it true?””
“Not based on the records I saw.””
“Then what does ‘Patricia deserves her share’ mean?””
“Probably exactly what it says.””
I frowned.
Mercer continued.
“Patricia was entitled to a percentage of legitimate investment proceeds.””
“Then why transfer money secretly into Lauren's custodial account?””
“That was the dispute.””
“So some payments were legitimate.””
“Yes.””
“And some weren't.””
“That was Rachel's position.””
“How much was actually missing?””
“Originally? Approximately three hundred and twenty thousand dollars.””
“And now Patricia needs nine hundred thousand?””
“With growth and penalties, that figure is plausible.””
I rubbed my forehead.
“Could the ledger prove Patricia innocent?””
“Only if you look at one page without the surrounding records.””
Exactly what Patricia wanted.
A fragment that changed the story.
Not enough to prove it.
Enough to confuse me.
My mother called on the other line.
“I found another folder.””
I merged the calls.
“Mom, Samuel Mercer is listening. What does it say?””
“Partnership reconciliations.””
Mercer immediately said, “Read the dates.””
She did.
He interrupted.
“Those are the missing records.””
“What do you mean?”” I asked.
“They disappeared before Rachel could complete her complaint.””
My mother went silent.
Then she whispered, “There are notes all over them.””
“Rachel's handwriting?”” Mercer asked.
“Yes.””
“Photograph every page.””
For the next twenty minutes, Mom sent images.
Mercer reviewed them.
Finally, he said, “This is significant.””
“How significant?””
“It appears Rachel traced multiple legitimate payments to Patricia, then separate unauthorized transfers into Lauren's custodial account.””
“So Patricia was paid what she was owed and took more.””
“That appears to be Rachel's conclusion.””
One page contained a handwritten calculation.
Legitimate distributions: $214,000.
Unauthorized transfers: $327,500.
Then Rachel had written:
*P.M. is hiding excess distributions under L.M.''s custodial account. Lauren may not know.*
I sat down.
Rachel had said it twice.
Lauren may not know.
She had tried to protect a nineteen-year-old stranger from blame.
Years later, that stranger tried to push Rachel's son out of his own home.
My phone buzzed.
A message from Lauren.
*I left Mom's house. Can I call you?*
I stepped onto the balcony and called.
She answered instantly.
“Where are you?””
“In my car.””
“Are you safe?””
“Yes.””
Her breathing was shaky.
“Daniel, I found something.””
“What?””
“Mom has a safe.””
I waited.
“She opened it after she hung up on you. She thought I went upstairs.””
“What was inside?””
“Cash. Documents. Passports.””
“Whose passports?””
“One was hers.””
“And the others?””
“I don't know.””
“Lauren.””
“One had my name.””
My chest tightened.
“Why would that surprise you?””
“Because I already have my passport.””
Silence.
“A second passport?””
“Yes.””
“Same number?””
“No.””
“Same name?””
“No.””
My stomach dropped.
“What name?””
She whispered it.
“Lauren Mercer.””
I froze.
“Mercer?””
“Yes.””
I immediately thought of Samuel.
No.
It couldn't be.
“Send me a picture.””
“I did.””
The image arrived.
Lauren's face.
Different surname.
Different birth date by eleven months.
I looked at Samuel's name still sitting on the merged call screen.
“Samuel.””
He didn't respond.
“Samuel, are you still there?””
Finally:
“Yes.””
“Does Patricia Mitchell have any connection to your family?””
Silence.
Then Mercer said, “Not that I know of.””
But his voice had changed.
Lauren whispered, “Daniel, there was something else in the safe.””
“What?””
“A birth certificate.””
“Yours?””
“I thought so.””
“What do you mean?””
“It has my first name.””
“And?””
She started crying.
“The mother's name is Patricia.””
I waited.
“And the father?””
Lauren couldn't say it.
So I looked at the photograph she'd sent.
The father's name was clearly visible.
I read it aloud.
“Samuel David Mercer.””
Nothing came through the phone.
Not even breathing.
Then Samuel finally whispered:
May you like
“My full name is Samuel David Mercer.””
And the line went dead.
