Chapter 2 - THE NOTE IN SADIE’S BACKPACK
Evelyn read the note three times.
Then a fourth.
“Where did you get this?”
Sadie looked suddenly worried.
“It was in my math book.”
“At school?”
She nodded.
“Yesterday.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because you said Dad lived far away.”
Her voice became small.
“And the note said he was close.”
Evelyn closed her eyes.
I crouched several feet away from Sadie.
Not touching.
“Did anyone give it to you?”
“No.”
“Anyone ask about your backpack?”
“No.”
“Did you tell anybody you were going?”
Sadie looked guilty.
“My friend Lucy.”
Evelyn’s fear sharpened.
“Anyone else?”
“No.”
I looked toward the window.
Old Frankfort Pike ran miles through horse country.
I had been there because one of my legitimate trucking warehouses sat fifteen minutes west.
My schedule was not public.
Only a few people knew I would take that road.
Someone inside my organization.
I called my right-hand man, Jonah Price.
“Where are you?”
“Lexington.”
“Come to Ashbourne Lane.”
A pause.
“You’re at the Whitaker place?”
“Now.”
He heard something in my voice and stopped asking questions.
Twenty minutes later, Jonah entered the sitting room.
At thirty-eight, he had been beside me through thirteen years of blood, arrests, bad deals, and worse funerals.
Nothing rattled him.
Then he saw Sadie.
He looked at me.
Then back at her.
“Boss…”
“Not here.”
I handed him the note.
“Find out who knew my route today.”
Evelyn folded her arms.
“And school security.”
Jonah looked at her.
She stared back.
“I’m her mother.”
He nodded.
“Yes, ma’am.”
Smart man.
Sadie returned upstairs with the housekeeper.
The moment she disappeared, Evelyn turned on me.
“Nobody from your organization goes near her school.”
“Agreed.”
“You don’t send men to follow her.”
“Agreed.”
“You don’t decide security without me.”
“Agreed.”
She narrowed her eyes.
“You always agree this easily?”
“No.”
“Then why now?”
“Because she’s your daughter before she’s anything to me legally.”
Something changed in her face.
Not forgiveness.
Recognition.
Then I asked the question I had been avoiding.
“Did you ever try contacting me after she was born?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Letters. Three.”
“To where?”
“Your Lexington office.”
“I never saw them.”
“I know.”
“How?”
Evelyn disappeared into a desk drawer and returned with photocopies.
One letter contained Sadie’s birth record.
Father:
Not listed.
Another contained a photograph.
Newborn Sadie beneath a pink hospital blanket.
My chest hurt.
The third had been returned.
ADDRESS REFUSED.
Stamped by Mercer Holdings security.
I recognized the initials authorizing the refusal.
G.M.
Grant Mercer.
My uncle.
My father’s younger brother.
My godfather.
The man who helped me take control of the organization after Thomas Mercer died.
Evelyn watched my face.
“You know who that is.”
“Yes.”
“What does G.M. mean?”
“Grant.”
Her expression hardened.
“Your uncle knew.”
“At least enough to block the letter.”
Then Jonah called.
“I’ve got the route list.”
“Who knew?”
“Me. Your driver. Two warehouse managers.”
“Anyone else?”
Silence.
“Jonah.”
“Grant asked for your schedule this morning.”
My stomach dropped.
“Why?”
“Said he needed to know whether you’d make the Lexington meeting.”
I looked toward the stairs.
Evelyn saw my expression.
“What?”
I put the phone on speaker.
Jonah continued.
“And there’s something else.”
“What?”
“One of our security vehicles was picked up on a county camera near Ashbourne Lane at 3:12.”
Evelyn went pale.
“Whose?”
Jonah hesitated.
“Registered to Grant Mercer.”
The note told Sadie to walk onto the road at 3:30.
Grant’s vehicle had been there eighteen minutes earlier.
May you like
My uncle had not merely known my daughter existed.
He may have been waiting for her.
