Chapter 10 - THE BROTHER WHO DIDN’T RUN FAR ENOUGH
Daniel Hayes was alive.
We found him in Nova Scotia.
Small fishing town.
Working under his middle name.
No luxury.
No $180,000 lifestyle.
That money was gone.
Mostly because Mercer took it back through threats and extortion after the bombing.
Daniel agreed to speak only after Clara called him.
I listened from the other room.
“Danny.”
Silence.
Then a sob.
Clara closed her eyes.
“You ruined my life.”
“I know.”
“You put a bomb under that car.”
“I know.”
“Matteo was eight.”
“I know.”
“His mother died.”
“I know.”
Her voice hardened.
“Stop saying you know.”
He cried harder.
Then the story came.
Daniel installed surveillance devices for Mercer.
At first, he thought it was corporate espionage.
Paid well.
No violence.
Then Mercer ordered him to plant a remote device beneath Vincent’s SUV.
Daniel refused.
Mercer showed him photographs of Clara.
Their mother.
Their apartment.
Threats.
Daniel complied.
Cowardice.
Fear.
Crime.
All true.
Then he learned Elena and Matteo would be in the vehicle.
He tried to move the device.
That was what Matteo saw.
The second man under the car.
Daniel.
“What were you doing?” Clara asked.
“Trying to disable it.”
“Did you?”
“No.”
Why?
Mercer arrived.
Silver medical bag.
Witness.
He checked the device.
Daniel backed off.
“Why didn’t you scream?”
“I was afraid.”
There it was again.
Fear doing the work violence usually gets blamed for.
Daniel tried sending Elena the warning.
Failed.
Then ran.
The explosion happened.
He heard it six blocks away.
He never returned.
I wanted him dragged back.
Clara looked at me through the doorway.
No.
That look.
Again.
She was right.
Daniel surrendered through counsel.
He would face consequences.
But he also provided everything he had.
Recordings.
Payments.
Names.
Mercer’s pharmaceutical scheme.
Counterfeit specialty drugs moved through legitimate cold-storage routes.
Some were diluted.
Some illegally diverted.
Millions.
I had unknowingly disrupted it by requiring tighter inspections after another company warned me about irregularities.
Mercer decided to remove me.
Then he treated my injured son afterward.
That was the ugliest part.
The man who caused the bombing walked into Matteo’s hospital room wearing a white coat.
He controlled medications.
Prognosis.
Rehab referrals.
Why?
Not necessarily to worsen the injury.
The injury was already catastrophic.
But keeping Matteo quiet and withdrawn reduced the chance a traumatized child might speak.
Sedation.
Pessimistic prognosis.
Minimal outside therapy.
It all helped.
Then Daniel said:
“Mercer asked about Matteo every month.”
Clara frowned.
“After discharge?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“He wanted to know if the boy talked.”
My blood went cold.
Fourteen months.
Mercer had been waiting to see whether my son remembered him.
Then Dominic called from Providence.
Estate security had intercepted someone attempting to enter the property with forged medical credentials.
Name:
Dr. Elias Mercer.
He had come back.
May you like
Not to escape.
To reach Matteo.
