Chapter 28 - Brittany Comes Back
Brittany returned to Chicago wearing no designer labels.
She arrived at Charlotte’s studio on a rainy Thursday afternoon in jeans, a plain sweater, and sneakers.
Charlotte called me immediately.
“You should come.”
“Why?”
“Because she looks like somebody replaced Brittany with a normal person.”
When I entered the studio, Brittany was sitting near the window holding a paper coffee cup.
She looked older.
Not physically.
Emotionally.
Life had reached her.
“Hi, Maya.”
“Brittany.”
She swallowed.
“I know I’m probably the last person you want to see.”
“You’re in the top ten.”
Charlotte nearly choked on her coffee.
To Brittany’s credit, she smiled weakly.
“I deserve that.”
I sat across from her.
“What do you want?”
She opened a folder.
“I’ve been cooperating with federal investigators.”
My expression changed.
“About Derek’s old real estate syndicate?”
“About Mercer.”
Charlotte and I exchanged a look.
Brittany continued.
“My father invested with Mercer Capital for years.”
I remembered her parents lived in Scottsdale.
“I found documents in his home office after I moved back.”
“What kind?”
“Private placement agreements.”
She handed me copies.
One company name jumped off the page.
MRG Lake Development Holdings.
Rachel had identified the same shell company financing Vale’s lawsuit.
“How much did your father invest?”
“Four million.”
My eyebrows rose.
“He isn’t rich enough to have four million liquid.”
“He borrowed against his medical practice and retirement accounts.”
“Why?”
“Because Mercer promised a sixfold return after Grand View redevelopment.”
My stomach tightened.
“They knew about the lawsuit before Adrian filed it.”
“Almost a year before.”
Brittany’s hands shook.
“My father told me Grand View was going to be broken apart and sold.”
Charlotte stared at her.
“And you didn’t tell anyone?”
“I didn’t know what it meant.”
“Really?” Charlotte snapped.
Brittany looked ashamed.
“No. I didn’t want to know.”
That sounded more truthful.
She continued.
“Last month, Mercer demanded another two million from the investors.”
“Why?”
“They said unexpected legal resistance required additional capital.”
“That’s us,” I said.
Brittany nodded.
“My father refused.”
“What happened?”
“Two days later, someone sent him photographs of my niece leaving school.”
The same tactic.
“My father panicked.”
“Did he call police?”
“No. He paid.”
I felt anger rise again.
“Brittany, people keep paying these men because fear convinces them silence is safer.”
“I know.”
Her eyes filled.
“That’s why I’m here.”
She removed a flash drive.
“This contains recordings.”
“What recordings?”
“My father started recording Mercer meetings after the threat.”
Charlotte stared.
“You brought us evidence?”
“I brought it to federal investigators first.”
Good.
Maybe Brittany really had changed.
“One recording mentions Arthur Sinclair,” she continued.
My pulse quickened.
“And?”
“A Mercer executive says, ‘Find the mercy room before Patterson does.’”
The mercy room.
“What else?”
“They talk about an old charitable facility Arthur funded outside Chicago.”
Charlotte stood.
“What charitable facility?”
Brittany looked at me.
“A children’s home.”
My breath stopped.
Arthur had financed several charities.
“Which one?”
“St. Catherine’s Mercy House.”
One beneath mercy.
I immediately searched the name.
The facility had closed in 1998.
But the building still existed.
Converted into a community center.
In Oak Park.
Less than thirty minutes from my school.
Brittany’s eyes remained fixed on me.
“There’s something else.”
“What?”
“Mercer already knows where it is.”
“When?”
May you like
She looked at the clock.
“The recording says they’re going there tonight.”
