Chapter 2 - The Money In The Mattress
The chill in the bedroom had nothing to do with the night air blowing through the shattered windowpane.
I stared at the glowing phone screen, the text message burning into my retinas. Put the ledger back in the safe, or Lily won't make it to her seventh birthday.
“Alex? What is it?” Kane asked, noticing the rigid stillness that had taken over my body. He stepped closer, reaching for his own radio. “Did you find something else?”
I shoved my phone into my jacket pocket before he could see the screen. If Kane knew about the threat against Lily, he would initiate a standard police lockdown—and in Silver Creek, Howard Vance owned half the police department. Kane was an honest man, but he was surrounded by officers whose mortgages were quietly subsidized by Vance’s real estate holdings.
“Nothing,” I lied, my voice flat and hollow. “Just... processing this.”
I tucked the black leather ledger inside my jacket, buttoning the heavy canvas fabric over my chest. Kane turned his back for a brief second to examine the bloody handprint on the plaster wall. That was all the time I needed.
I walked quickly down the back staircase, bypassing the main living room where my mother and brother were being held under guard. I slipped into the kitchen, where a young deputy stood watch over the back door.
“Mr. Mercer,” the deputy said respectfully. “Investigator Kane said no one is allowed to leave.”
“I’m getting a bottle of water for my daughter,” I replied, my tone devoid of emotion.
The deputy hesitated, then nodded, stepping aside.
Lily was sitting on the sofa in the adjacent den, holding her stuffed bear, her eyes red and swollen. My father sat in his wheelchair beside her, his left hand gripping the armrest so hard his knuckles were white.
I knelt in front of them, keeping my voice down so the officers in the hall couldn't hear.
“Dad,” I whispered. “Look at me.”
My father turned his weathered face toward me. A tear leaked from his clear eye, trailing down the paralyzed right side of his cheek.
“Clara didn't kill herself,” I whispered. “I know what happened. I know about Vance.”
At the mention of Vance’s name, my father’s breath caught in his throat. He opened his mouth, making a strained, desperate sound: “V... V... Van...”
“I know,” I said gently. “Listen to me carefully. Derek worked for Vance’s local distribution center. Did Derek bring Vance into this house while I was away?”
My father nodded frantically—a single, sharp jerk of his chin.
“Did Mom help him?”
Another nod. More violent this time.
My heart felt as though it were being slowly crushed in a vise. My own mother—the woman who had rocked me to sleep in this very house—had stood by while my brother and my billionaire boss terrorized my wife.
“Daddy,” Lily whimpered, tugging on my sleeve. “Grandma told Uncle Derek that if Mommy didn't give them the black box from your desk, Uncle Vance would take the house away. Mommy locked herself in the room. Uncle Derek took the big hammer from the garage...”
“I know, baby,” I whispered, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “I know. You were so brave.”
I pulled my cousin Samuel—Clara’s brother, who had just arrived after hearing the sirens—into the hallway. Samuel was a former state trooper who had left the force to start a private security firm in Columbus. He was six-foot-four, stone-faced, and fiercely protective of Clara.
“Samuel,” I said, looking him dead in the eye. “I need you to take Lily and my father out of this house right now. Drive them to your compound in Columbus. Don't stop for gas. Don't answer your phone. Don't tell a single soul where you are going.”
Samuel looked past me toward the living room where Derek was currently being handcuffed by Officer Miller. “Alex, what the hell happened here? What did they do to my sister?”
“Vance,” I said grimly. “And Derek. I’m going to handle it, but I can’t do a damn thing if I’m worried about Lily’s safety. Take them. Now.”
Samuel didn't ask another question. He was a man of action. He walked into the den, scooped Lily into his arms, and signaled two of his private security guys who had followed him in to lift my father’s heavy wheelchair. They slipped out through the side garage door before Investigator Kane even realized they were gone.
With my daughter safe, the air in my lungs finally felt clear. The paralyzing terror that had gripped me since I stepped off that highway vanished, replaced by an ancient, icy rage.
I walked back into the living room.
County forensic technicians had arrived, setting up lighting rigs around Clara’s casket. My mother was sitting on the bottom step of the staircase, weeping hysterically into a handkerchief, while Aunt Beatrice argued heatedly with a deputy near the front door.
Derek was pinned against the wall by Officer Miller, steel cuffs ratcheted tight around his wrists.
I walked up to my brother. I stopped three inches from his face.
“Alex,” Derek spat, his voice laced with venom and fear. “Tell them to take these off me! I didn't do anything! It was Mom’s idea to call Beatrice! We were just trying to avoid a scandal!”
“Where is the encrypted drive, Derek?” I asked softly.
Derek’s eyes darted wildly toward my mother. “I... I don't know what you’re talking about!”
I leaned in closer, my voice dropping to a whisper that only he could hear. “I read Clara’s ledger. I know Vance paid you fifty thousand dollars to find the hard drive I brought back from the Chicago route last month. The drive containing the shipping logs for the illegal arms transfers.”
Derek’s face went from pale to chalk-white. “Alex... you don't understand... Vance said he’d kill me if I didn't get it! I owe three hundred thousand to his underground casino in Cincinnati! He was going to take my legs!”
“So you killed my wife instead?”
“I didn't mean to!” Derek cried out, breaking down into pathetic, sniveling sobs. “I just broke the door down to get the key to your desk! Clara ran at me with a pair of scissors! She scratched my face! I... I pushed her, Alex! She fell back and hit her head on the iron corner of the bed frame! She stopped moving!”
The room went dead silent.
Investigator Kane, who had just walked down the stairs, froze on the landing. Every deputy in the room turned to stare at Derek.
My mother let out a strangled shriek. “Derek, shut your mouth!”
“She stopped moving!” Derek sobbed, completely unspooling under the weight of his own panic. “I panicked! I called Mom! Mom said if we called an ambulance, you’d find out about the money! So Mom called Beatrice! Beatrice brought some pills from her husband’s hospice stash and forced them down Clara’s throat to make it look like an overdose!”
I stared at my brother.
The horror of his words washed over me like scalding water. Clara hadn't died from an overdose. She had been rendered unconscious by a head injury, and while she lay bleeding on our bedroom floor, my own mother and aunt had poisoned her to cover up Derek’s crime.
My fists clenched so hard the tendons in my forearms screamed. Every instinct in my body ordered me to tear Derek’s throat out right there on the rug.
I took one step forward.
“Alex, don't!” Kane yelled, drawing his sidearm and stepping between us. “Let the law handle this! Don't ruin your life!”
I stopped. I looked at Kane, then at Derek, then at my mother, who was curling into a ball on the floor, hiding her face in shame.
“The law?” I whispered, a dark, bitter smile touching my lips. “Marcus... Vance owns the county judge. He owns the prosecutor. If this goes to court, Derek will take a manslaughter plea, Beatrice will get probation, and Howard Vance will walk away untouched.”
“I won't let that happen,” Kane vowed.
“You can’t stop him,” I said flatly.
I turned around and walked out the front door, stepping past the black mourning ribbon tied to the gate. The rain had begun to fall, heavy and cold, washing the dust from the hood of my truck.
I climbed into the driver’s seat. I reached under the dashboard and pulled down a hidden compartment I had built years ago. Inside lay a black Glock 19 with three fully loaded magazines, and a satellite communications tracker Vance Logistics issued to senior security escorts.
I plugged Clara’s bloody iPhone into the truck’s high-speed charger.
Within thirty seconds, the screen hummed to life.
I bypassed the passcode using a master override sequence Clara and I had set up years ago. The home screen opened.
There were forty-seven missed calls from my mother, twelve texts from Derek, and one unread voicemail received three days ago at 11:42 PM—right around the time I was crossing the state line into Indiana.
I pressed play on the voicemail.
Clara’s voice came through the truck’s speakers, trembling, frantic, filled with background sounds of heavy pounding on wood:
“Alex... if you’re hearing this, Derek broke into the house. He’s with two men in suit jackets I’ve never seen before. One of them is Howard Vance’s chief enforcer, Miller. They aren't looking for money, Alex. They’re looking for the red ledger. I hid it in the mattress... but Alex, if I don't make it... don't go after Derek first. Vance is the one who ordered this. The hard drive... the hard drive isn't in your study. I hid it inside Lily’s brand-new doll house in the attic. Promise me you’ll protect our girl...”
The line went dead with the sound of splintering wood and a high-pitched scream.
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I gripped the steering wheel until my knuckles turned white.
I put the truck in gear, slammed my foot onto the gas, and tore out onto the main road, heading straight toward the dark, sprawling estate of Vance Manor on the ridge overlooking Silver Creek.
