Chapter 5 - THE MAN WHO WANTED THE CHILD
Gerald Whitford hadn't tried to steal a First-Class seat simply because he thought children were unimportant.
He had recognized Imani.
That possibility changed everything.
Lorraine sat across from Samuel Hale, trying to organize eleven years of scattered memories.
"Naomi was frightened of Gerald," she said.
Samuel nodded.
"We suspected that."
"Then why was he allowed near Imani?"
"The legal protection order had been issued only recently, and his conduct aboard the aircraft has been referred to the appropriate authorities."
Rebecca leaned forward.
"Gerald has been contesting Daniel's estate since the funeral."
Lorraine frowned.
"On what grounds?"
"He claims the updated estate documents give him authority over Mercer Aerospace Systems."
"And Imani?"
Rebecca's expression hardened.
"He argues that Daniel had no surviving child."
Lorraine looked toward Imani.
The little girl was quietly building a tower from wooden blocks Rebecca had given her.
No surviving child.
How could anyone say something so cruel?
Samuel continued.
"Gerald has also claimed that Daniel's recognition of Imani was based on unreliable documents."
Lorraine shook her head.
"Naomi gave birth to her. I was there."
"Your testimony will be important."
"Then I'll testify."
Samuel smiled faintly.
"I believed you would."
That evening, they checked into a hotel arranged through the law firm.
Lorraine insisted on keeping Imani in the adjoining room with her.
No strangers.
No unexplained appointments.
No surprises.
But shortly after nine, Imani asked a question Lorraine had been dreading.
"Can we see where Daddy lived?"
Lorraine looked at her.
"Why?"
Imani hugged her backpack.
"I want to know if he liked the same things I do."
"What things?"
"Drawing. Pancakes. Airplanes."
Lorraine smiled sadly.
"I think we can ask."
The following morning, Rebecca arranged a visit to Daniel Mercer's townhouse.
It stood on a quiet Manhattan street behind tall iron gates.
Imani stared at the building.
"Wow."
Lorraine squeezed her hand.
"Remember, sweetheart, it's only a house."
Imani nodded.
"Mommy said a house is just walls unless people love each other inside."
Rebecca stopped walking.
Her eyes filled with tears.
"Naomi said that?"
Imani nodded.
Rebecca whispered, "Daniel used to say exactly the same thing."
Inside, the home was beautiful but strangely quiet.
There were photographs of airplanes.
Models of spacecraft.
Awards.
And shelves filled with engineering books.
But no family portraits.
Imani looked around.
"Did Daddy live here alone?"
Rebecca nodded.
"Most of the time."
The little girl considered that.
"That's sad."
Rebecca's expression crumpled.
"Yes, sweetheart. It was."
They entered Daniel's study.
A large wooden desk stood beneath a window.
On it rested a framed photograph.
Lorraine stopped.
The picture showed Naomi holding a newborn baby.
Imani.
She stepped closer.
"That's me."
Rebecca nodded.
"Daniel kept it beside him."
Imani touched the frame.
"He knew about me?"
"Yes."
"Then why didn't he come?"
Rebecca looked toward Samuel.
He hesitated.
Then opened a drawer in Daniel's desk.
Inside was a small video recorder.
"Daniel left a personal message," Samuel explained. "He instructed us to share it with Imani when her guardian believed she was ready."
Lorraine looked at the little girl.
"Do you want to see it?"
Imani nodded.
Samuel pressed play.
Daniel Mercer appeared on the screen.
He had kind brown eyes, dark hair touched with gray, and a tired smile.
"Hello, Imani."
The little girl stopped breathing.
Daniel continued.
"If you're watching this, it means I finally found a way to reach you."
Tears filled Lorraine's eyes.
Then Daniel looked directly into the camera.
"I need you to know something about your mother."
A pause.
"Naomi didn't leave me because she stopped loving me."
His voice broke.
"She left because someone threatened to kill both of you if she stayed."
Imani gripped Lorraine's hand.
Daniel continued.
"And the person who made that threat was someone I once trusted with my life."
He swallowed.
May you like
Then said the name.
"Gerald Whitford."
