Chapter 4 - THE WATCH THAT WASN’T MISSING
~1,100 words
“What did they argue about?”
Mom sat on the edge of my father’s old bed with the blue coat across her lap.
For once, I didn’t interrupt when she took too long.
Megan stood near the window.
Marco had left at my request.
This part belonged to family.
At least for the moment.
Catherine rubbed her thumb over the worn wool.
“Your father wanted out.”
I stared at her.
“Out of what?”
She gave me a look.
“Don’t insult me, Isaac.”
I said nothing.
She continued.
“He wanted the Mercer name to become something you could inherit without looking over your shoulder.”
“My father built the organization.”
“Yes.”
“And suddenly he wanted to walk away?”
“Not suddenly.”
She looked down.
“He had been planning it for almost two years.”
I laughed once.
No humor in it.
“That’s impossible.”
“Why?”
“Because I was there.”
“You were twenty-nine and trying to prove you were harder than every man twice your age.”
Her voice softened.
“Your father loved you. He did not tell you everything.”
That hurt more than it should have.
Megan stayed silent.
Mom pointed toward the photograph.
“Anthony Calder wanted the same thing. They had both buried enough people.”
“The Calders killed him.”
“No.”
The word was quiet.
Absolute.
I stood.
“Be careful.”
Megan moved slightly.
Not between us.
Just enough that I noticed.
Mom noticed too.
Her spine straightened.
“Do not threaten me in my bedroom.”
“I’m not threatening you.”
“That tone has been frightening other people for so long you no longer hear it.”
The shame came fast.
I looked away.
“Fine.”
My jaw tightened.
“Then tell me what happened.”
Mom folded the coat carefully.
“The night before your father died, Vincent took the ferry to Gloucester. Anthony Calder met him there. They agreed to stop competing over the north docks, close two illegal routes and start transferring several trucking contracts into legitimate companies.”
I stared at her.
“You knew?”
“Not then.”
“When?”
“After.”
“From who?”
“Dominic.”
My head snapped toward her.
“He told you?”
“Some.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means your uncle has spent twelve years telling different people different amounts of the truth.”
That sounded like Dominic.
Not because he was dishonest by nature.
Because he believed information was something to ration.
My father used to call him the family lockbox.
Mom continued.
“The next evening, Vincent met Dominic at Dock Fourteen.”
“Why?”
“To discuss the transition.”
“What transition?”
“You.”
I felt the air leave my chest.
Mom’s eyes filled.
“Your father planned to step down.”
I couldn’t speak.
“Not immediately,” she said. “He wanted six months. Maybe a year. But he wanted you to inherit the legal companies, not the rest.”
I thought about twelve years of blood, contracts, fear and loyalty.
Everything I had spent my adult life becoming.
“He never told me.”
“No.”
“Because he didn’t trust me?”
“Because he knew you would hear rejection instead of freedom.”
I wanted to deny it.
Couldn’t.
Megan looked away, giving me privacy I hadn’t earned.
I walked to the window.
Outside, the estate grounds were dark except for the path lights.
My whole childhood lived out there.
My father teaching me to throw a baseball badly.
Mom yelling from the porch because we broke a window.
Dominic arriving every Sunday with pastries and newspapers.
Family.
Or whatever we had called it.
“What did Dominic say during the argument?”
Mom’s hands tightened on the coat.
“I wasn’t there for all of it.”
“But you heard something.”
“Yes.”
“What?”
She closed her eyes.
“Dominic told Vincent he was moving too quickly. He said half the captains would see peace as weakness.”
“That sounds reasonable.”
“It was.”
I turned.
She looked surprised.
I continued.
“Changing an entire organization overnight would have been dangerous.”
“Yes.”
“What else?”
“Dominic said Anthony Calder could change his mind the second Vincent showed weakness.”
“Also reasonable.”
Mom nodded.
“That is why I never knew what to believe.”
There it was.
Not a monster.
Not yet.
Just a man arguing that change could get people killed.
“What did my father say?”
“He said, ‘If fear is the only thing holding this family together, then I built it wrong.’”
I looked at the watch.
That sounded like him too.
“Then?”
“Dominic told him not to go to Dock Fourteen that night.”
I frowned.
“Why would he say that if they were already there?”
“They were at the estate when they argued.”
My head lifted.
“He left afterward?”
“Yes.”
“Alone?”
“Yes.”
“What did Dominic do?”
“Followed him later.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
Megan finally spoke.
“Catherine, when did you see Vincent again?”
Mom went still.
The question was gentler than mine.
It got an answer mine might not have.
“Near midnight.”
“Here?”
“No.”
Her voice weakened.
“At the hospital.”
I turned.
“The hospital?”
She nodded.
“He was already gone.”
Everything I knew said my father died at Dock Fourteen.
Police photographs.
Newspaper reports.
The bullet-scarred door.
Men from our organization swearing Calder shooters had disappeared before anyone could stop them.
“What hospital?”
“St. Joseph’s.”
“Who took him?”
“Dominic.”
The room felt colder.
“And the shooting?”
Mom looked at the floor.
“I never saw it.”
I walked toward her.
“You let me believe Calder killed him.”
“I believed that was what happened.”
“But you just said—”
“I said Dominic brought him to the hospital.”
Her voice rose.
“I did not see what happened at the dock.”
Megan moved closer to Catherine.
“Enough for tonight.”
I looked at her.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“She just told me my entire life might be built on a lie.”
“And her hands are shaking.”
I looked down.
They were.
Mom’s face had gone gray.
My anger disappeared.
I crouched in front of her.
“Mom.”
“I’m fine.”
“No.”
Megan touched Catherine’s wrist.
Then her neck.
“Slow breaths.”
I stepped back because Megan told me to with one look.
That was new.
A minute passed.
Then two.
Mom’s color improved.
Megan got water.
No drama.
No grabbing.
No treating her like she was already gone.
When Catherine could speak normally again, she looked at me.
“I was going to tell you.”
“When?”
“Before you went back to Boston.”
“Why now?”
Her eyes drifted to the medication bottle on the nightstand.
“Because I found the photograph in March.”
The timeline snapped into place.
March.
The electrical work.
The missing coat.
The sedatives.
“Dominic knew you found it.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“I confronted him.”
“What did he say?”
“That old secrets should stay buried.”
Megan looked at me.
I knew what she was thinking.
So did I.
I took out my phone.
This time she didn’t stop me.
I called Dominic myself.
No threats.
No explanation.
“Come to the estate.”
He started to speak.
I cut him off.
“Now.”
An hour later, Dominic stood in my father’s study.
Sixty-one.
Gray at the temples.
Dark overcoat still buttoned.
The man who taught me everything my father had no time to teach.
I put the photograph on the desk.
His face changed.
Only slightly.
But enough.
“Where did you find that?”
“Answer my mother.”
His eyes shifted toward Catherine.
She sat beside Megan.
Not behind me.
Not protected like an object.
Present.
Dominic took off his gloves.
“Catherine.”
“Did you have Samuel increase my sedatives?”
He exhaled.
“I asked him to help you sleep.”
“That is not what I asked.”
Dominic’s jaw tightened.
“You were becoming distressed.”
“I was becoming clear.”
“That is not fair.”
“No.”
Her voice shook.
“What you did wasn’t fair.”
I stepped forward.
“Why the watch?”
Dominic looked at me.
“Because I knew what Vincent put inside.”
“Why hide the photograph?”
“To keep twelve years of peace from collapsing over one dead man’s unfinished plan.”
I laughed.
“Peace?”
“You kept Boston stable.”
“By letting me believe Calder murdered my father.”
Dominic’s eyes hardened.
“If Anthony Calder had become your friend twelve years ago, half your captains would have tested you before the funeral flowers died.”
“So you lied.”
“I kept you alive.”
Mom closed her eyes.
There it was again.
Love translated into control.
Dominic looked toward Catherine.
“I never wanted you hurt.”
“You wanted me quiet.”
“I wanted you alive.”
Megan said softly, “Those aren’t always the same thing.”
Dominic looked at her for the first time.
“Stay out of this.”
I turned.
“No.”
He stared at me.
I continued.
“She stays.”
A subtle change passed through Megan’s face.
Dominic looked back at me.
“I did not kill your father.”
“Then what happened?”
His mouth tightened.
“I argued with him.”
“You followed him.”
“Yes.”
“To Dock Fourteen?”
“Yes.”
“Was Calder there?”
“No.”
My heartbeat changed.
“Then who was?”
Dominic’s eyes moved to my mother.
She looked suddenly afraid.
Not of him.
Of the answer.
Dominic spoke.
“Samuel Vale.”
I went still.
“Our doctor?”
“He wasn’t there as your doctor.”
“Then why?”
Dominic removed his coat slowly.
“Because your father had been seeing Samuel privately for six months.”
“For what?”
Dominic looked at the silver watch in my hand.
Then at me.
“You want to know what happened at Dock Fourteen?”
“Yes.”
May you like
“Ask Samuel why your father needed a cardiologist standing beside him at eleven forty that night.”
---
