Chapter 5 - The Father Who Signed After His Funeral
Faith Whitmore had buried her father eight years earlier.
That was what she told me when I showed her the Northstar documents the following morning.
We met at a neutral office with an attorney present.
Faith sat opposite me, wearing a faded green sweater and holding a paper cup of coffee she hadn't touched.
"My father died in a construction accident," she said.
I placed the records on the table.
"Do you recognize this signature?"
She looked down.
Her face changed.
"That's Dad's handwriting."
I waited.
Then she noticed the date.
"Last Tuesday?"
I nodded.
Faith slowly set down the cup.
"Somebody forged it."
"That's possible."
She looked directly at me.
"Mr. Mercer, I watched them bury him."
I didn't argue.
Grief was not something to challenge with a spreadsheet.
Instead, I asked whether she'd be willing to explain what she remembered.
Faith told me Daniel worked as an electrical contractor.
He'd taken a temporary job repairing equipment at one of my company's old warehouses.
One evening, he never came home.
A supervisor called to say there had been an accident.
Faith was twenty-two.
Her mother was already dealing with serious health problems.
The funeral was arranged quickly, and the coffin remained closed.
I felt a familiar dread settling in my stomach.
"What company employed him?"
Faith answered without hesitation.
"Northstar Industrial Services."
My heart stopped.
Northstar.
The same name attached to the company receiving suspicious payroll transfers.
I looked toward Vivian.
She understood immediately.
We'd believed the missing money was simply being moved through shell companies.
Now we were seeing signs of a much older operation.
Faith looked between us.
"What aren't you telling me?"
I leaned forward.
"We found your father's name attached to a business receiving payments from Mercer Coffee Group."
She frowned.
"That doesn't make sense."
"I know."
"Why would Dad own part of a company connected to my employer?"
"That's what we're investigating."
Faith looked down.
Then whispered, "My mother knew something."
I waited.
"Before she died, she kept asking whether Dad had called."
My chest tightened.
"But she told you he was dead?"
Faith nodded.
"I thought the medication was making her confused."
Tears filled her eyes.
"She'd sit by the phone every Sunday afternoon. Sometimes she'd put on her favorite dress."
I swallowed.
For years, Faith had believed her mother was grieving someone who'd never return.
Now there was another possibility.
Helen Whitmore had been waiting because she knew Daniel might still be alive.
Then Faith reached into her bag.
She removed a small envelope.
"Mom left this for me."
Across the front was a handwritten instruction.
Open when someone finally tells you the truth about Northstar.
I stared at it.
Faith's fingers trembled as she broke the seal.
Inside was a single photograph.
Daniel Whitmore stood beside Marcus Voss.
Both were outside a warehouse.
And between them was a younger man wearing a Mercer company jacket.
I recognized him immediately.
My cousin.
May you like
Lucas Mercer.
The man I'd trusted to manage the warehouses linked to my family's criminal organization.
