Chapter 12 - THE MAN WHO DROVE THE KILLER'S CAR
Victor Sloane had been standing beside my father's murderer for twelve years.
And I had trusted him.
He had given me the key.
Helped protect my nephews.
Pretended to mourn a man he had helped destroy.
“Tell me he's lying,” I whispered.
Victor looked at me.
His silence was answer enough.
Grant stepped toward him.
“Victor.”
The older man closed his eyes.
“I was driving.”
My chest tightened.
“You killed my father?”
“No.”
“You were there!”
“Yes.”
I felt Rachel grip my arm.
Victor's voice broke.
“I drove the second vehicle. Mercer told me we were intercepting Daniel before he could leave Chicago. He said nobody would be hurt.”
I stared at him.
“And you believed him?”
“I wanted to.”
Grant's face hardened.
“What happened?”
Victor swallowed.
“We followed Daniel onto the highway. Mercer's driver struck his car. I saw it happen.”
My knees weakened.
“He was alive afterward,” Victor whispered.
I couldn't breathe.
“What?”
“Daniel survived the collision.”
The room went silent.
Victor continued.
“I got out. I went to his car. He was conscious. He asked me to help him.”
Tears ran down Victor's face.
“I tried.”
“Then why did he die?” I demanded.
“Mercer's men arrived. They pulled me away. They said if I interfered, they'd kill my wife and daughter.”
I stepped back.
“You left him?”
Victor lowered his head.
“Yes.”
The truth was worse than I imagined.
Not because Victor had planned the murder.
But because he had been close enough to save my father.
And hadn't.
Grant looked toward the federal agents.
“Take his statement.”
Victor nodded.
“I'll tell them everything.”
I turned away.
I couldn't look at him anymore.
Rachel held me while I cried.
For twelve years, I had imagined my father dying instantly.
Now I knew he'd been alive.
Waiting for help.
Calling for someone who never came.
Grant approached slowly.
“Emily.”
“Don't.”
He stopped.
“I need a minute.”
“Take as long as you need.”
I looked at him.
His eyes were filled with pain.
And something else.
Fear.
Not fear of Mercer.
Fear that the truth would destroy whatever had begun between us.
I wanted to tell him it wouldn't.
But I couldn't.
Not yet.
Later, at the hospital, doctors examined Rachel.
She had bruises but no serious injuries.
I sat beside her bed when Eleanor called.
“Emily,” she whispered. “There's something you need to see.”
I closed my eyes.
“Please. No more secrets.”
“I wish there weren't any.”
“What is it?”
Eleanor hesitated.
“Your father's murder wasn't the last crime Mercer committed against your family.”
My stomach dropped.
“What are you saying?”
May you like
She took a shaky breath.
“Emily, your mother's death wasn't natural either.”
