Chapter 23 - The Chase North
Mercer drove like a man with nothing left to lose.
Police cruisers joined the pursuit from three directions.
A helicopter tracked the black SUV as it tore north through industrial roads and rural highways.
I pulled into a secured gas station where federal agents surrounded our truck.
The boys were shaking.
Melissa was worse.
“He looked at me.”
“I know.”
“He pointed at me.”
“I know.”
“He wants me dead.”
I didn’t lie.
“Then we make sure he doesn’t get close enough.”
Miller called from the command vehicle.
“Mercer abandoned the SUV.”
“Where?”
“Old quarry access road.”
“Did you catch him?”
“No.”
Of course not.
The black SUV had been stolen that morning.
Mercer drove it into a wooded quarry, abandoned it near a maintenance trail, and disappeared before officers established a perimeter.
Dogs picked up his scent.
Then lost it near a shallow creek.
Again, he used planning against pursuit.
But this time he made a mistake.
Inside the SUV, technicians found a paper map.
One location marked.
Pinecrest Lake.
Miller immediately assumed misdirection.
I wasn’t sure.
Grant had said Mercer owned a cabin nearby.
Agents had searched that property and found nothing.
But Pinecrest was emotionally connected to me and the boys.
Mercer knew that.
“He wants me to think about the lake,” I said.
Sarah asked, “Why?”
“Because that’s where I felt safe after Grant was arrested.”
Miller nodded slowly.
“He attacks symbols.”
The shop sign.
Melissa’s apartment.
The school.
My father’s cabin.
Places that represented security.
Mercer did not only want to hurt people.
He wanted to prove security was an illusion.
That made him predictable in a strange way.
“What place matters most to Grant?” I asked.
Melissa answered immediately.
“Whitmore Tower.”
The forty-story downtown headquarters of the company.
The building had been seized by federal authorities and was scheduled for auction.
Grant’s name had already been removed from the lobby.
Mercer helped build the company.
Helped design its fraud.
If he believed Grant had betrayed him, the tower represented both of them.
Miller dispatched units.
At first, nothing.
Then building security found a rear service door open.
One camera had been disabled.
Federal teams entered floor by floor.
On the thirty-ninth floor, they found evidence someone had been living inside an abandoned executive office.
Food.
Blankets.
Medical supplies.
A police scanner.
Mercer had been hiding inside Grant’s own former headquarters.
Exactly where everyone assumed he would never return.
But he was gone.
On the wall he had written a message:
GRANT BUILT THE NAME.
I BUILT THE MACHINE.
That line explained everything.
Mercer hated Grant for taking credit.
He hated me for exposing the machinery.
And now he hated Melissa for testifying.
Agents searched the building overnight.
On the roof they discovered binoculars.
From that rooftop, Mercer could see the federal courthouse.
Sarah’s office.
Several downtown routes.
He had watched us for days.
The next morning, Miller received a break.
A maintenance worker remembered seeing Mercer speak with a delivery driver.
The driver was located.
He told agents Mercer had offered him five hundred dollars for access to a commercial loading truck.
The driver refused.
But Mercer asked questions.
Routes.
Schedules.
Specifically, when prison food suppliers traveled toward the federal detention center.
My stomach tightened.
“Grant.”
Miller nodded.
“Probably.”
Grant was scheduled to be moved again within forty-eight hours.
Authorities canceled the transfer.
But Mercer might not know.
Miller proposed using the scheduled route as bait.
This time Sarah did not argue with me.
Because I was not involved.
An armored transport vehicle would leave as planned.
Grant would not be inside.
Federal tactical officers would.
The convoy departed at 5:30 the next morning.
For forty miles, nothing happened.
Then a box truck pulled onto the highway.
It accelerated toward the transport.
Police moved in.
The truck suddenly veered onto an exit.
A pursuit began.
Officers forced it to stop near an abandoned industrial yard.
The driver surrendered.
Not Mercer.
Ryan Kessler.
Again.
He had been released on a technical bond condition after cooperating.
Mercer had threatened his family and forced him back into service.
Inside the truck agents found weapons, restraints, and photographs of Grant’s transport route.
Mercer had planned an ambush.
But Ryan revealed the most important detail.
“He said he was done trusting other people.”
Miller asked, “Where is Mercer?”
Ryan shook his head.
“I don’t know.”
“What is he planning?”
Ryan began crying.
“He said tonight he was going to fix the first mistake.”
“What first mistake?”
May you like
Ryan looked directly at Miller.
“The mechanic.”
