Chapter 2 - THE CAMERA FOOTAGE
Nathan did not ask why Laura Mercer had his number.
That was the first thing Daniel noticed.
He attacked the premise instead.
“Some scammer finds Mom’s obituary, sees my company online, and suddenly I'm involved?”
“Why would she sell Mom's furniture?”
“I don't know.”
“She had a letter with Mom's signature.”
“Then it's forged.”
“You sounded pretty sure.”
Nathan exhaled through his nose.
“Daniel, Mom died less than two weeks ago. People target estates. Call the police and let them handle it.”
“Were you here yesterday?”
“No.”
The answer was immediate.
Daniel looked toward the black security dome mounted at the corridor intersection.
“Okay.”
He ended the call.
Lisa had heard enough.
“I can't give you unrestricted footage.”
“I don't need unrestricted footage. I need yesterday.”
“I need approval.”
“Get it.”
Tom was still there, lingering beside the dolly.
Daniel expected him to leave.
Instead, Tom pointed at the chest.
“Do you want help getting that into your car?”
Daniel almost said no.
Then he realized the chest was the only thing from his mother's unit that had not disappeared.
“Yeah.”
While they moved it, Tom said, “That woman seemed normal yesterday.”
Daniel stopped.
“You saw Laura?”
“At checkout. Briefly.”
“What happened?”
“She looked upset.”
“About what?”
“I don't know. She kept asking one of the employees whether a box had been moved.”
“What box?”
Tom thought.
“Blue. Or maybe an envelope. Something blue.”
Daniel stared at him.
“Did you see anyone with her?”
“No.”
Lisa called from the office.
“Mr. Mercer.”
Her regional manager had authorized a limited review because Daniel was listed as an heir on the unit’s original emergency documentation.
They stood behind the front desk as Lisa pulled up the previous afternoon.
At 12:47 p.m., Laura appeared on camera.
She was real.
Dark hair. Black trousers. Pale blue blouse. Mid-forties.
She stood in front of Unit 214 for several seconds before entering the code.
The door opened on the first try.
“She knew Mom's code,” Daniel said.
Lisa nodded.
Laura spent the next four hours overseeing the sale.
Nothing about her behavior looked like theft.
She answered questions. Carried small boxes. Checked items against a list. Twice, she stopped buyers from opening containers marked PRIVATE.
At 3:18 p.m., Laura sat on the floor against the wall and covered her face with both hands.
She stayed there almost a minute before standing again.
Daniel had expected a criminal.
What he saw looked like a grieving relative.
That disturbed him more.
“Go earlier.”
Lisa changed the timeline.
7:56 a.m.
A silver SUV entered the rear access lane.
Daniel leaned toward the monitor.
Nathan drove a silver Audi Q7.
The camera angle caught the vehicle but not the plate.
A man stepped out.
Tall.
Dark jacket.
He walked toward Unit 214.
Daniel knew his brother’s walk.
Nathan had torn his Achilles tendon playing tennis at thirty-six and still favored his right leg when moving quickly.
The man disappeared from view.
Four minutes later, Laura arrived.
Nathan met her outside the unit.
There was no question now.
The camera captured his face when he turned toward the light.
Daniel said nothing.
Neither did Lisa.
On the footage, Nathan handed Laura something.
A folder.
Then he entered the unit with her.
At 8:31, Nathan left.
Laura remained.
Daniel took out his phone again.
This time he did not call his brother.
He sent a single screenshot from the monitor.
Nathan standing beside Laura Mercer.
The typing indicator appeared within seconds.
Stopped.
Appeared again.
Nathan finally wrote:
We need to talk before you do something stupid.
Daniel showed Lisa.
“Can you preserve all of this?”
“Yes.”
“Not just yesterday. Everything from the last month.”
Lisa hesitated.
“I can flag it from deletion.”
“Do that.”
Daniel then asked for the registration information Laura had supplied.
Lisa could not give him the driver's license copy without legal authorization, but she was permitted to confirm that the address matched public identification.
Laura lived twenty-six miles away.
Not another state.
Not another country.
Twenty-six miles from the house where Evelyn Mercer had spent the last nine years of her life.
Daniel searched the address.
A modest townhouse appeared.
Owner: Laura Bennett.
That stopped him.
“Bennett?”
Lisa checked.
“Her ID says Laura Bennett Mercer.”
Daniel searched the name.
A local occupational therapy clinic employed a Laura Bennett Mercer.
There were no fraud complaints.
No criminal cases.
No obvious reason she would invent a connection to Evelyn.
Then Daniel found a cached public genealogy profile.
Laura Bennett.
Age forty-four.
Adopted at birth.
Searching for biological family.
A post from eleven months earlier remained visible:
Looking for information connected to Evelyn Claire Hayes, born 1957, and Richard Thomas Mercer, born 1955.
Daniel stopped breathing for a moment.
Evelyn Claire Hayes was his mother’s maiden name.
Richard Thomas Mercer was his father.
The post was almost a year old.
Long before Evelyn became seriously ill.
Long before her obituary existed.
Daniel enlarged the screen.
Laura hadn't found his family after Evelyn died.
She had been looking for them before.
His phone buzzed.
Nathan.
This time the message contained no denial.
Stay away from Laura until I explain.
Daniel stared at it.
Then another message appeared.
Mom made a mistake.
Daniel looked through the office window toward the cedar chest in his SUV.
He called Laura.
She answered cautiously.
“Hello?”
“My name is Daniel Mercer.”
Nothing.
Then a sharp intake of breath.
Daniel continued.
“I think you knew my mother.”
Laura's voice changed.
Not defensive.
Sad.
“I was wondering how long it would take you to call.”
Daniel looked at the footage of her and Nathan frozen on Lisa’s monitor.
“Then tell me why my brother just lied about ever meeting you.”
Laura was silent for several seconds.
Finally she said, “Because Nathan was never supposed to let you find out this way.”
“Find out what?”
May you like
Laura’s next words removed the last possibility that this was only about stolen furniture.
“Evelyn was my mother too.”
