Chapter 31 - The Missing Banker
Nathan Mercer’s disappearance turned the case into national news.
Private aircraft records showed his company jet had never left Chicago.
His passport had been flagged.
His home was empty.
His office had been cleared.
Federal investigators believed he was still somewhere in the Midwest.
I tried to return to normal life.
Normal, however, had become a moving target.
Reporters waited outside Grand View.
Parents whispered at school.
Financial channels debated whether Sinclair Holdings would sue Mercer Capital for damages.
I refused television interviews.
My students needed Miss Maya, not Chairwoman Patterson.
One Friday morning, Leo handed me a drawing.
It showed a large hotel beside a crooked blue lake.
A tiny stick figure stood in front.
“That’s you,” he said.
“I look very small.”
“You are.”
I laughed.
“What’s this?”
A huge yellow shape hovered behind me.
“That’s your shield.”
“Why do I have a shield?”
“Because Mommy said bad money people are mad at you.”
My smile faded.
Children heard everything.
I knelt beside him.
“You know what the best shield is?”
“What?”
“Good people telling the truth together.”
He considered this.
“Can it stop lasers?”
“Probably not lasers.”
He looked disappointed.
That afternoon, Detective Alvarez called.
“We found Mercer’s vehicle.”
“Where?”
“Near Lake Geneva.”
My stomach tightened.
“Grand View?”
“Six miles away.”
The SUV had been abandoned near a forest access road.
Inside were cash, fake identification documents, and a printed map.
The map showed the Grand View’s private service roads.
Federal agents increased security.
James ordered all staff to use badge checkpoints.
I hated watching fear return to the place we had worked so hard to make welcoming.
At seven that evening, Gerald called.
“I’m outside.”
“Outside where?”
“Your apartment.”
I opened the door.
He carried groceries.
“You look exhausted.”
“I am.”
“I made chili.”
I stared at him.
“You made chili?”
“I work nights with truck dispatchers now. Chili is apparently a professional requirement.”
Against my better judgment, I laughed.
We ate at my kitchen counter.
Then Gerald told me something important.
“Nathan Mercer called me once.”
I froze.
“When?”
“Years ago. Maybe twelve.”
“Why?”
“He wanted access to Arthur’s trust records.”
“What did you say?”
“I told him I didn’t control them.”
“Did you ever meet?”
Gerald hesitated.
Once again, silence became confession.
“Dad.”
“One dinner.”
“Where?”
“Chicago Athletic Club.”
“What did he want?”
“He asked whether Arthur had stored documents at Grand View.”
“And?”
“I told him I didn’t know.”
“Anything else?”
Gerald looked sick.
“He offered me money.”
“How much?”
“Two million dollars.”
“For what?”
“To notify him if I ever learned where Arthur’s archives were.”
My anger rose.
“Did you agree?”
“No.”
I searched his face.
“Why not?”
Gerald gave a humorless smile.
“Not because I was honorable. I thought two million was insulting.”
I closed my eyes.
That was painfully believable.
“Did Nathan give you anything?”
“A business card.”
“Still have it?”
Gerald shook his head.
“Wait.”
He stood.
“My old storage unit.”
Within an hour, we were driving to Des Plaines.
Gerald’s storage unit contained the remains of his old life.
Golf trophies.
Designer furniture.
Boxes from the Barrington house.
He found the card inside an executive desk.
Nathan Mercer.
On the back was a handwritten number.
Not a phone number.
Seven digits.
Gerald frowned.
“I never knew what this meant.”
James ran the number through Sinclair archives.
Nothing.
Charlotte tried corporate databases.
Nothing.
Then Marcus recognized the format.
“That’s a locker number.”
“Where?”
“Old Grand View marina storage lockers used seven-digit asset codes.”
We searched historical records.
The code matched a locker decommissioned fourteen years earlier.
Locker 114.
James went silent.
“That locker wasn’t at the marina.”
“Where was it?”
“The Owner’s Penthouse.”
My pulse spiked.
A concealed document locker built into Arthur’s original office.
The same penthouse where I had stayed during the reunion.
Nathan Mercer had known about it for twelve years.
We drove to Grand View immediately.
Behind an old wood panel in Arthur’s study, we found the locker.
Empty.
Except for one thing.
May you like
A fresh cigarette butt.
Nathan Mercer had been there recently.
