Chapter 7: The Photograph
It was printed on plain paper, slightly creased from being folded in her pocket.
Rachel held it out and I took it.
A man I didn't know.
Heavyset, late fifties, standing outside what looked like a hotel entrance.
Beside him, shaking his hand, was my brother-in-law Daniel.
And standing slightly behind Daniel, half-turned away from the camera as if he'd sensed it, was my husband.
The timestamp in the corner read fourteen months ago.
"Where did she get this?" I asked.
"She found it on Daniel's laptop," Rachel said.
"She was at his house for a family dinner and she went to use it to print something for school.
It was in an unlocked folder."
I looked at my husband.
"You told me you'd never met Mercer in person.
You told me everything was handled through Daniel."
He said nothing.
"That's Mercer," I said.
It wasn't a question.
"Yes."
"You met him fourteen months ago."
"Once.
Just once."
"And you didn't tell me."
"I was trying to assess the situation—"
"You were there." I set the photograph on the tray table between us.
"You stood next to this man and shook his hand and then you came home and you told me nothing."
"It was one meeting—"
"It changes everything you've told me." My voice was steady.
I was surprised by how steady it was.
"You didn't just send money at Daniel's request.
You were involved directly.
You met him.
You made an agreement with him in person."
"I was trying to end it—"
"And now he wants a final payment and you've brought me on a flight to the same city without telling me why." I looked at the photograph again.
"Does he know you're bringing your wife?"
My husband didn't answer.
The seat belt sign chimed on again.
"Does Mercer know I'm on this plane?"
"I don't know what he knows."
"That's not reassuring."
Rachel leaned forward.
"Your daughter thought the photograph mattered because of the timestamp.
Fourteen months ago.
But look at the background."
I looked more carefully.
Behind the three men, through the hotel's glass doors, a lobby.
A reception desk.
And on the wall behind the desk, partially visible, a logo.
I recognized it.
It was the hotel we were booked into.
The one my husband had chosen for this trip.
I set the paper down very carefully.
"You booked us into his hotel."
My husband closed his eyes.
"He owns it," he said quietly.
"Mercer owns it.
It's one of his businesses."
"And you booked us in there."
"He insisted.
As a condition of the meeting.
He wanted — he said it was neutral ground."
"Neutral ground." I looked out the window.
The clouds had broken and I could see the grey geometry of a city below, growing slowly closer.
"He wanted us where he could see us."
"It's not like that—"
"What is it like?
Because from where I'm sitting, you've brought me to a city to meet a man who makes threats against families, and you've booked us into his building, and you didn't tell me any of it."
The descent announcement came over the speaker.
Twenty minutes to landing.
Rachel spoke quietly.
"We need to decide before we land."
"Decide what?" my husband said.
"Whether we walk into that hotel," I said.
"Or whether we don't."
He looked at me.
"If I don't show up, he'll—"
"I know what you're going to say." I picked up my phone.
"But there's something you haven't considered."
"What?"
"You've been handling this alone for two years.
You've been making every decision by yourself, in secret, and it has gotten worse every single time." I unlocked the screen.
"So this time, I'm going to make a decision."
"What are you doing?"
"I'm calling my daughter."
"We're about to land—"
"I know." I found her name.
Pressed call.
"She's been waiting for this call for three years.
She can wait three more minutes."
It rang twice.
She picked up on the third ring.
"Mum?"
Her voice was so careful.
So braced.
"I know," I said.
"I know everything.
Are you all right?"
May you like
A long silence.
Then she started to cry.
