Chapter 12 - Samuel Cross
Samuel Cross had been dead for sixteen years.
At least on paper.
Hale found the death certificate in ten minutes. Boating accident. No body recovered.
Mara stared at the document.
“Rich people really do love missing bodies.”
Hale did not smile.
The man in the photograph was Samuel.
Older, heavier, but unmistakable from archived Cross Meridian board photos.
The picture had been taken three months ago.
Daniel had been meeting his biological father in secret.
Claire paced the hospital family room. “So Daniel’s dad is alive, his mother knows, and everybody lies professionally.”
Mara looked at Teresa.
“Did you know?”
Teresa shook her head.
Mara watched her closely.
Teresa looked offended. “I have already lied to you. I am not lying now.”
That bluntness made Mara believe her.
Hale traced the photo to a private marina. A camera showed Daniel and Samuel boarding a cabin cruiser two days before the balcony incident.
Then another surprise.
Evelyn had visited the same marina the next morning.
Mara leaned back in the chair.
“They were all working together.”
“Maybe,” Hale said.
“You really love that word.”
“It keeps cases from falling apart.”
“Your caution almost got my daughter taken.”
Hale looked at her.
She regretted it immediately.
Not because it was false. Because it was unfair. The custody petition was Daniel’s work, not Hale’s.
Mara rubbed her face. “Sorry.”
Hale nodded once. “Still checking your facts before blaming people. Good habit.”
That stung more than anger would have.
He found Samuel’s current address under the name Sam Mercer.
A lake house two hours north.
Mara wanted to go.
Everyone said no.
She went anyway.
That was her third major mistake.
Claire drove. Teresa, still barely mobile, called them idiots over speakerphone.
“You just had surgery.”
“I’m sitting.”
“In a car going toward a man who faked his death.”
“Technically, Claire is doing the going.”
“Do not get cute with me.”
At the lake house, the front door stood open.
No car outside.
Mara and Claire entered without waiting for Hale.
Inside, the place smelled of coffee and gun oil.
On the table sat three passports, a roll of cash, and a stack of printed photographs.
Every photograph was of Mara.
Walking to work.
At prenatal appointments.
At Claire’s apartment.
Sleeping through the hospital window.
Claire whispered, “We need to leave.”
A floorboard creaked upstairs.
May you like
Then a man’s voice said, “You should have listened to her.”
