For several seconds, nobody moved.
Wesley looked at the officer like he had spoken in another language.
“What did you say?”
The officer repeated it.
“A woman upstairs says she’s Margaret Ellis.”
Wesley’s face went completely pale.
“That’s impossible.”
Officer Ramirez studied him.
“You said she was alive.”
“I said I believed she was alive.”
“That’s different.”
“I never knew where she was.”
The officer glanced toward the stairs.
“She specifically asked for Wesley Grant.”
My stomach tightened.
Margaret had disappeared eighteen months ago.
Her car had been found abandoned.
Her evidence hidden.
Her name connected to everything.
And now she had simply walked back into the same building?
Charles gave a humorless laugh from beside the paramedic.
“No.”
Everyone looked at him.
“That’s not Margaret.”
Ramirez narrowed her eyes.
“How would you know?”
“Because if Margaret were alive, she wouldn’t walk through the front door.”
Wesley turned toward him.
“You said you didn’t know where she was.”
“I don’t.”
“Then stop talking like you know her.”
Charles leaned forward.
“I know what she was afraid of.”
“And what was that?”
Charles looked toward the officers.
“All of you.”
The basement fell silent.
Ramirez’s face hardened.
“You need to be careful.”
Charles gave a bitter smile.
“That letter says exactly what I’m saying.”
He nodded toward Emily’s note.
“There was someone inside the investigation helping Westbridge.”
Ramirez’s expression didn’t change, but I noticed her jaw tighten.
“You’re suggesting the police are compromised.”
“I’m saying Emily believed they were.”
“Emily died three years ago.”
“Yes.”
“And Margaret disappeared eighteen months ago.”
“Yes.”
“Then whoever was involved may not even be here anymore.”
Charles shook his head.
“Or they’re still here.”
I suddenly became very aware of every officer standing around us.
Wesley noticed too.
His eyes moved from face to face.
Ramirez saw it.
“Enough.”
She pointed to the officer.
“Who is upstairs with this woman?”
“Chen and Patel.”
“Anyone else?”
“No.”
“Did she have identification?”
“She showed a driver’s license.”
“Current?”
“Yes.”
Ramirez looked at Wesley.
“You’re staying here.”
“No.”
“That’s not a request.”
“If it’s Margaret—”
“We don’t know that yet.”
Wesley clenched his jaw.
Ramirez turned to me.
“You stay too.”
I almost laughed.
“I seem to hear that a lot today.”
“I mean it.”
Then she and two officers went upstairs.
The basement suddenly felt too quiet.
Wesley paced despite his injured knee.
I watched him.
“You really didn’t know she was coming?”
“No.”
“You didn’t contact her?”
“No.”
“How did she know you were here?”
“I don’t know.”
Charles laughed again.
Wesley spun toward him.
“What?”
“You’re asking the wrong question.”
“What should I be asking?”
“Why now?”
That silenced everyone.
Charles continued.
“Margaret stayed hidden for eighteen months.”
He pointed toward the ceiling.
“Then the exact day Bell gets arrested and Emily’s evidence box is opened, she appears?”
My skin prickled.
“You think someone sent her.”
“I think somebody wants her here.”
“Why?”
Charles looked at the recorder in my hand.
“To finish what they started.”
Wesley stepped closer.
“Who?”
“If I knew, I wouldn’t have spent the last three years looking over my shoulder.”
I stared at him.
“You were afraid too.”
Charles looked away.
“Fear doesn’t make me innocent.”
At least he admitted that.
Then footsteps came down the stairs.
Ramirez appeared.
Alone.
Wesley moved immediately.
“Is it her?”
Ramirez stopped in front of him.
“Yes.”
Wesley’s face crumpled.
He grabbed the edge of the table.
“You’re sure?”

“She gave details only Margaret Ellis would likely know.”
“Likely?”
“We’re confirming fingerprints.”
“Let me see her.”
“Not yet.”
“Ramirez—”
“Wesley.”
Her voice softened slightly.
“She’s terrified.”
That stopped him.
“What happened?”
“She says she won’t speak unless she sees you.”
“Then let me go.”
Ramirez hesitated.
Then nodded.
“Only you.”
I stepped forward.
“No.”
Everyone looked at me.
“I’m involved too.”
Ramirez shook her head.
“Audrey.”
“She had files about my apartment.”
“That doesn’t mean—”
“She disappeared because of Unit 3B.”
Margaret’s voice came from the stairs.
“She’s right.”
My whole body went cold.
A woman stood at the bottom step.
Gray hair.
Thinner than in the old photographs.
Older somehow.
But I recognized her.
The woman with the little white dog.
Margaret Ellis.
Wesley stopped breathing.
Margaret looked at him.
For one second, neither spoke.
Then Wesley whispered, “Margaret.”
Her face broke.
“Oh, Wesley.”
He crossed the basement in three steps and hugged her.
She clung to him.
Not politely.
Desperately.
Like someone holding onto the only person who understood the nightmare she had survived.
Wesley pulled back.
“I thought you were dead.”
“I know.”
“I looked for you.”
“I know.”
“Where were you?”
Margaret looked around at the officers.
Then at Charles.
Her expression changed instantly.
“You.”
Charles lowered his eyes.
Margaret took a step backward.
“Get him away from me.”
Ramirez moved between them.
“He’s being detained.”
“He should be in handcuffs.”
Charles didn’t argue.
Margaret stared at him.
“You helped them.”
Charles whispered, “I know.”
“You followed us.”
“Yes.”
“You told Bell where we were.”
“No.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“No.”
Wesley touched Margaret’s shoulder.
“Tell me what happened.”
Margaret’s eyes filled.
“You really don’t remember?”
Wesley frowned.
“Remember what?”
She stared at him.
“The night we ran.”
“I remember Bell attacking us.”
“And after?”
“I remember getting in your car.”
“And?”
Wesley rubbed his forehead.
“I remember blood.”
Margaret nodded.
“Your hand was cut badly.”
“I remember driving.”
“No.”
Wesley looked at her.
“What?”
“You didn’t drive.”
He froze.
“I did.”
“No.”
“I remember—”
“I drove.”
Margaret stepped closer.
“You were barely conscious.”
Wesley looked confused.
“You told police I disappeared alone.”
“I had to.”
“Why?”
Margaret looked around the room.
“Because somebody was waiting for us.”
My stomach tightened.
“Where?”
I asked.
“At the motel.”
“What motel?”
“The place Wesley told me to drive to.”
Wesley shook his head.
“I don’t remember a motel.”
“You gave me the address.”
“No.”
“You did.”
“When?”
“In the car.”
Margaret’s expression changed when she saw his confusion.
“You really don’t remember.”
Wesley looked shaken.
“What happened there?”
Margaret swallowed.
“When we arrived, there was already a man inside the room.”
Ramirez stepped closer.
“Who?”
Margaret looked at her.
“I never knew his name.”
“Describe him.”
“Tall. Heavy build. Maybe fifty.”
“Anything else?”
“Yes.”
Her voice became quieter.
“He had a police badge.”
Every officer in the room went still.
Ramirez asked, “What department?”
“I didn’t see it clearly.”
“What happened?”
“He told us he was there to help.”
“And you believed him?”
“At first.”
Margaret looked at Wesley.
“Wesley was bleeding. I was terrified.”
She rubbed her hands together.
“He said he could get us into witness protection.”
Wesley whispered, “Witness protection?”
“That’s what he called it.”
“What did he want?”
“The documents.”
Of course.
Margaret continued.
“He said we couldn’t carry evidence with us because Westbridge would track it.”
Charles muttered, “That was a lie.”
Margaret looked at him.
“I know that now.”
“What happened next?” Ramirez asked.
Margaret took a breath.
“I gave him one folder.”
Wesley frowned.
“Why only one?”
“Because I didn’t trust him.”
A tiny smile appeared through her fear.
“So I gave him copies.”
“What did you do with the originals?”
Margaret looked directly at me.
“I hid them.”
My stomach dropped.
“Where?”
“In 3B.”
My apartment.
Again.
I whispered, “In the wall?”
She nodded.
“The metal compartment.”
“But the photographs showed it was emptied.”
“That was after.”
“What do you mean?”
“I moved the documents first.”
“Where?”
Margaret hesitated.
Then said, “Somewhere Bell never checked.”
Wesley leaned closer.
“What happened to the police officer?”
Margaret’s face went pale.
“He realized the folder was incomplete.”
“And?”
“He became angry.”
“How angry?”
“He pulled a gun.”
Silence.
Wesley stared at her.
“What happened?”
“You tried to stop him.”
Wesley instinctively touched his head.
Margaret noticed.
“He hit you.”
“My knee?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
“Your head.”
I remembered how Wesley had struggled with parts of that night.
How he insisted he drove.
How pieces didn’t line up.
“You had a head injury.”
Margaret nodded.
“He struck Wesley with the gun.”
Wesley whispered, “Why don’t I remember that?”
Margaret’s eyes filled.
“You were unconscious.”
“For how long?”
“Long enough.”
“Long enough for what?”
She looked at the floor.
“For him to put you in another car.”
Wesley went still.
“What?”
“He told me you were dead.”
His mouth opened.
“He said he killed you.”
Margaret’s voice broke.
“I believed him.”
Wesley looked devastated.
“He separated us.”
“Yes.”
“Where did he take me?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then how did I end up back at work two days later?”
Margaret stared at him.
“I’ve asked myself that for eighteen months.”
Ramirez immediately turned to Wesley.
“What do you remember from those two days?”
He squeezed his eyes shut.
“Nothing clear.”
“Nothing?”
“Hospital lights.”
Everyone looked at him.
“I thought they were from my knee injury.”
Margaret shook her head.
“That happened later.”
Wesley stared at her.
“What?”
My heart started pounding.
“Your loading dock fall,” I said.
“That was after Margaret disappeared?”
Charles answered.
“Six weeks after.”
Wesley looked sick.
“So my head injury came first.”
“Yes,” Margaret said.
“And nobody told me.”
“No.”
Ramirez’s face had changed.
She was putting pieces together.
“If someone inside law enforcement assaulted you and then returned you without a report…”
Charles finished the thought.
“They erased it.”
Margaret nodded.
“That’s why I ran.”
“Where did you go?” Wesley asked.
“My daughter helped me.”
“In Oregon?”
“Yes.”
“She knew?”
“Not everything.”
“Why didn’t you contact police?”
Margaret looked toward Ramirez.
“Because every time I tried, somebody knew before I finished making the call.”
Ramirez frowned.
“What does that mean?”
“The first time, I called a county detective.”
“And?”
“Within twenty minutes, someone from Westbridge called my daughter.”
Charles looked stunned.
“Who?”
“Bell.”
Ramirez’s face hardened.
“And the second time?”
“I used a different phone.”
“What happened?”
“A man came to the house that night.”
“Who?”
“The same officer from the motel.”
Silence.
“Did he threaten you?”
“Yes.”
“What did he say?”
Margaret swallowed.
“He said Wesley was alive.”
Wesley looked at her.
“And?”
“He said if I ever came back, Wesley would die for real.”
Wesley’s eyes closed.
Margaret whispered, “So I stayed gone.”
Nobody spoke.
Then I asked the question that had been burning inside me.
“Why did you come back today?”
Margaret looked at me.
“Because last night I got an email.”
“From who?”
“I don’t know.”
“What did it say?”
She reached into her coat and removed a folded printout.
Ramirez took it.
The message contained only three lines.
BELL HAS LOST CONTROL.
EMILY’S BOX WILL BE FOUND TOMORROW.
IF YOU WANT WESLEY ALIVE, COME BACK.
Wesley stared at it.
“They knew about Emily’s box.”
Margaret nodded.
“Before we opened it,” I whispered.
Ramirez’s expression darkened.
“That means someone knew what was in this basement.”
Charles looked toward the ceiling.
“Or someone knew what the police were about to find.”
Every officer became very still.
Margaret suddenly grabbed Wesley’s hand.
“There’s more.”
“What?”
“The motel officer.”
“What about him?”
“I finally learned his name.”
Ramirez moved closer.
“Tell me.”
Margaret looked at every officer in the room.
Then she shook her head.
“No.”
“Margaret.”
“I’m not saying it here.”
“Why?”
“Because one of you might call him.”
Ramirez’s face tightened.
“I’m trying to help you.”
Margaret stared at her.
“I believed that once.”
Nobody moved.
Then Margaret reached into her coat again.
She removed a small photograph.
Old.
Creased.
Taken from far away.
A man was standing beside Bell near the apartment building.
The image was blurry.
But I could still see his face.
Ramirez looked at it.
Then suddenly went pale.
Wesley noticed.
“You know him.”
Ramirez didn’t answer.
“Who is he?”
Margaret watched her carefully.
Ramirez stared at the photograph for several seconds.
Then whispered one word.
“No.”
“What?” I asked.
She looked toward the basement stairs.
Then at the officers beside her.
“Lock the building.”
One of them frowned.
“Why?”
“Now.”
Her voice sharpened.
“Lock every entrance.”
Everyone started moving.
Wesley grabbed her arm.
“Ramirez, who is he?”
She looked at him.
“The man in this photograph is Captain David Mercer.”
My stomach tightened.
“Captain?”
Ramirez nodded.
“He supervised the original Margaret Ellis investigation.”
The room went silent.
Margaret whispered, “He was the man at the motel.”
Ramirez stared at the stairs.
Then her radio crackled.
A voice came through.
“Captain Mercer just arrived.”
Margaret’s hand closed around Wesley’s.
Ramirez slowly reached for her weapon.
And from upstairs, a man called down,
“Ramirez?”
Her face lost all color.
The voice continued.
“I heard we found Margaret.”
Margaret whispered,
“That’s him.”

PART 9 — THE CAPTAIN IN THE HALLWAY

Nobody moved.
Captain Mercer’s voice came from the stairwell again.
“Ramirez?”
Officer Ramirez raised one finger to her lips.
Margaret’s face had gone white.
Wesley stood in front of her instinctively.
Charles whispered, “He knows she’s here.”
Ramirez looked at him.
“How?”
Charles glanced toward the ceiling.
“Because somebody told him.”
One of the younger officers reached for his radio.
Ramirez grabbed his wrist.
“No radios.”
He stared at her.
“Why?”
“Because if Mercer is involved, we don’t know who else is.”
The basement suddenly felt even smaller.
Mercer called again.
“I know you’re down there.”
Ramirez pulled her weapon.
Wesley whispered, “What do we do?”
“Stay behind me.”
Margaret shook her head.
“No.”
Everyone looked at her.
“He’ll kill you.”
Ramirez’s jaw tightened.
“He won’t get the chance.”
“You don’t know him.”
“I know enough.”
Margaret grabbed Ramirez’s arm.
“No, you don’t.”
Footsteps started down the stairs.
Slow.
Controlled.
Mercer wasn’t rushing.
That made it worse.
Ramirez aimed toward the stairwell.
“Captain Mercer, stop where you are.”
The footsteps stopped.
Silence.
Then Mercer laughed softly.
“Is that really necessary?”
“Yes.”
“We’re on the same side.”
“No, we’re not.”
Another pause.
Then he asked, “Margaret told you.”
Nobody answered.
Mercer sighed.
“I was hoping we could avoid this.”
Wesley leaned toward Margaret.
“What does he want?”
“The evidence.”
“What evidence?”
Margaret looked toward Emily’s metal box.
“All of it.”
Mercer must have heard.
“Wesley.”
Wesley froze.
“You’ve had a very difficult few years.”
His voice was almost gentle.
“Let me help you.”
Wesley’s face hardened.
“You hit me with a gun.”
Silence.
Then Mercer said, “You remember that?”
“Not everything.”
“Memory is unreliable after trauma.”
Margaret whispered, “Don’t listen to him.”
Mercer continued.
“You were confused that night.”
“You attacked me.”
“I stopped you from making a terrible mistake.”
Wesley laughed bitterly.
“By knocking me unconscious?”
“You were protecting stolen documents.”
“They were evidence.”
“Evidence can be interpreted many ways.”
Ramirez’s expression tightened.
“Captain, step into view with your hands where I can see them.”
For several seconds, nothing happened.
Then Mercer appeared at the bottom of the stairs.
Hands raised.
No visible weapon.
He looked exactly like the photograph, only older.
Broad shoulders.
Gray at the temples.
Calm eyes.
He smiled at Ramirez.
“Happy?”
“No.”
Ramirez stepped forward.
“Turn around.”
Mercer looked at the officers behind her.
“You’re making a serious mistake.”
“Turn around.”
He ignored her and looked directly at Margaret.
“Eighteen months.”
Margaret shook.
“You should have stayed gone.”
Wesley moved in front of her.
Mercer smiled.
“There he is.”
“What?”
“The hero.”
Wesley said nothing.
Mercer continued.
“You weren’t always so righteous.”
Charles looked away.
Wesley noticed.
“What does that mean?”
Mercer nodded toward Charles.
“Ask him.”
Charles muttered, “Don’t.”
Wesley snapped, “Ask him what?”
Mercer smiled.
“Ask Charles who gave me your name.”
Wesley went still.
Charles closed his eyes.
“No.”
Wesley turned.
“Charles.”
“I was scared.”
“What did you do?”
Charles looked at him.
“I told Mercer you had the files.”
Wesley stared.
“When?”
“The night Margaret disappeared.”
Margaret looked horrified.
“You?”
Charles nodded.
“I thought Mercer was helping Westbridge contain a leak.”
“You sold us out.”
“I didn’t know what he was going to do.”
“That’s what everyone says after.”
Charles lowered his head.
Wesley looked back at Mercer.
“So Charles called you.”
“Yes.”
“You followed us.”
“Yes.”
“You attacked me.”
“Yes.”
The admission was so casual it stunned everyone.
Ramirez’s weapon stayed trained on him.
“Captain Mercer, you are under arrest.”
Mercer almost smiled.
“For what?”
“Assault. Obstruction. Evidence tampering. Potential conspiracy.”
“Potential?”
Ramirez took a step closer.
“Turn around.”
Mercer looked amused.
Then Margaret said, “Tell them about Emily.”
His expression changed.
Only slightly.
Wesley noticed.
“What about my wife?”
Mercer looked at him.
“Emily was brave.”
Wesley’s jaw tightened.
“Don’t say her name.”
“She was also reckless.”
“Don’t.”
“She thought collecting evidence made her untouchable.”
Wesley stepped forward.
Ramirez blocked him.
“What did you do to her?”
Mercer said nothing.
Wesley shouted, “What did you do to my wife?”
Mercer’s eyes remained cold.
“I gave her a chance.”
“To do what?”
“Walk away.”
“And when she didn’t?”
Silence.
That silence was the answer.
Wesley’s face broke.
“No.”
Margaret covered her mouth.
Charles whispered, “David…”
Mercer looked at him.
“Be quiet.”
Ramirez said, “Did you tamper with Emily Grant’s vehicle?”
Mercer smiled faintly.
“You’re recording this, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Then I think I’ll stop talking.”
Ramirez reached for her handcuffs.
“Turn around.”
Mercer slowly turned.
For one second, I thought it was over.
Then the lights went out.
Total darkness.
Someone screamed.
A gunshot exploded.
Then another.
I dropped to the floor.
Wesley shouted Margaret’s name.
Ramirez yelled, “Nobody move!”
Something crashed.
Footsteps ran.
Then the emergency lights flickered on.
Red.
Dim.
Chaotic.
Mercer was gone.
One officer was on the floor clutching his shoulder.
Ramirez rushed to him.
“Chen!”
“I’m okay.”
Blood soaked his sleeve.
Margaret was crouched behind the table.
Wesley grabbed her.
“You okay?”
“Yes.”
Charles looked toward the stairs.
“He ran.”
Ramirez turned on the officers.
“Seal every exit!”
One officer ran upstairs.
Then Ramirez looked at the electrical panel.
“Who killed the lights?”
Nobody answered.
Margaret suddenly stared at the table.
Her face changed.
“The box.”
We all looked.
Emily’s metal box was open.
The flash drives were gone.
Wesley searched frantically.
“No.”
The documents were still there.
The notebook remained.
But both flash drives had disappeared.
Ramirez swore under her breath.
“Mercer took them.”
Margaret shook her head.
“He couldn’t.”
“What?”
“He was across the room when the lights went out.”
Everyone went silent.
Ramirez slowly looked around.
“You’re saying someone else took them.”
“Yes.”
That meant somebody in the basement had helped him.
My stomach twisted.
One of us.
Or one of the officers.
Ramirez seemed to realize the same thing.
“Everyone stays here.”
Charles laughed bitterly.
“You finally understand.”
Ramirez spun toward him.
“Shut up.”
Then a radio crackled upstairs.
“Captain Mercer exited through the rear stairwell.”
Ramirez grabbed the radio.
“Who saw him?”
“Officer Patel.”
“Where is Patel now?”
Silence.
“Patel?”
Nothing.
Ramirez’s face changed.
Then another voice came over the radio.
“We found Patel.”
Everyone froze.
“Where?”
“In the laundry room.”
“Condition?”
A pause.
“Unconscious.”
Ramirez cursed.
Margaret whispered, “Mercer had help.”
Wesley looked at her.
“You still know the name of the person inside the department.”
“Yes.”
“Then tell us.”
Margaret looked around.
“No.”
Wesley stared at her.
“Margaret.”
“Not here.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m not sure anymore.”
“Not sure of what?”
“Whether Mercer was the only one.”
Silence.
Then Officer Ramirez’s phone vibrated.
She checked the screen.
Her face changed.
“What?”
I asked.
She looked at Wesley.
“Mercer just sent me a message.”
“What does it say?”
She turned the phone.
There was a photograph.
Nolan.
My son.
Walking beside Melissa outside her apartment.
My blood went cold.
Below the photo was one sentence.
BRING ME EMILY’S NOTEBOOK OR THE BOY DISAPPEARS NEXT.
I stopped breathing.
“No.”
Wesley grabbed my arm.
“Audrey.”
I pulled away.
“No.”
Ramirez immediately started calling.
“Get units to Melissa’s apartment now.”
I was already dialing her.
No answer.
Again.
No answer.
My hands shook so badly I nearly dropped the phone.
“Pick up.”
Nothing.
Then a text came from Melissa.
DON’T CALL.
My heart stopped.
Another message.
SOMEONE IS OUTSIDE.
Then another.
AUDREY, THEY KNOW WE’RE HERE.
I looked at Ramirez.
“We have to go.”
“Units are already moving.”
“That’s my son.”
“I know.”
“No, you don’t.”
I grabbed my coat.
Wesley followed.
Ramirez stepped in front of us.
“You cannot rush into this.”
“Watch me.”
Margaret suddenly grabbed the notebook from the table.
Everyone looked at her.
“This is what Mercer wants.”
Ramirez said, “Put that down.”
Margaret ignored her.
She flipped through pages quickly.
Then stopped.
Her eyes widened.
“What?”
Wesley asked.
Margaret pointed at one page.
“Emily wrote Nolan’s apartment.”
My stomach dropped.
“What?”
Margaret read aloud.
UNIT 3B FUTURE TENANT MUST NEVER FIND STORAGE PANEL.
I stared at her.
“Future tenant?”
“She wrote this before you moved in.”
Wesley looked closer.
“There’s more.”
Margaret continued.
IF BUILDING IS REOCCUPIED, MOVE LEDGER BEFORE FAMILY ENTERS.
My hands went cold.
“What ledger?”
Charles whispered, “Oh God.”
We turned to him.
“What?”
He looked terrified.
“The real records.”
Margaret nodded slowly.
“The notebook is only an index.”
Wesley stared.
“An index to what?”
Margaret looked at me.
“To everything Westbridge paid for.”
“Where is it?”
She turned the page.
Emily had drawn a crude diagram.
Unit 3B.
My apartment.
A mark behind Nolan’s bedroom wall.
My stomach dropped.
“No.”
Wesley whispered, “Audrey…”
I stared at the drawing.
The mold in the kitchen had only been one hidden problem.
The real evidence had been inside my home the entire time.
Behind the wall where my son slept.
And now Mercer knew Nolan existed.
I grabbed the notebook.
“We’re going back to my apartment.”
Ramirez stared at me.
“Absolutely not.”
“He wants this because he thinks the ledger is still there.”
“And that makes your apartment the most dangerous place in the city right now.”
“Exactly.”
Wesley looked at me.
“What are you thinking?”
I swallowed.
“If Mercer wants the ledger badly enough to threaten Nolan…”
Margaret finished the thought.
“Then we use it to make him come to us.”
Ramirez shook her head.
“No.”
I looked directly at her.
“My son is nine years old.”
My voice broke.
“I am done waiting for these people to decide what happens to my family.”
Then Ramirez’s phone rang.
Unknown number.
Everyone froze.
She answered.
“Ramirez.”
Mercer’s voice came through the speaker.
“Bring Audrey to Unit 3B.”
My skin went cold.
He continued.
“Bring the notebook.”
Ramirez said nothing.
“And come alone.”
Wesley whispered, “He knows.”
Mercer heard him.
“I said alone.”
Then his voice became quieter.
“Audrey?”
I stared at the phone.
“I’m here.”
Mercer laughed softly.
“Good.”
I clenched my fists.
“Where is my son?”
“Safe.”
“Let me hear him.”
“No.”
“If you hurt him—”
“I don’t want Nolan.”
My heart slammed.
“Then what do you want?”
Mercer answered,
“I want what your son found behind his bedroom wall three months ago.”
Everything inside me stopped.
“What?”
Mercer chuckled.
“You really don’t know.”
The call ended.
I looked at Wesley.
Then Margaret.
Then the drawing.
Three months ago.
Nolan had started hiding things in a small shoebox under his bed.
Little treasures.
Coins.
Old cards.
Broken toys.
Things I never questioned.
And suddenly I remembered something he had said weeks earlier.
Mom, I found a secret hole in my wall.
I had been tired.
I had barely listened.
I told him not to pick at the paint.
Now my blood turned cold.
Because Mercer wasn’t hunting for something hidden in my apartment.
He was hunting for something my nine-year-old son had already found.

Click Here to continuous Read​​​​ Full Ending Story👉PART 10 —  THE SECRET NOLAN FOUND