Chapter 20 - THE INVITATION
I had never scheduled a meeting with Elias Grant.
At least, I did not remember scheduling one.
Ortiz sent me the file.
SEPTEMBER 14.
C. MERCER.
PRIVATE DINNER.
LOCATION PENDING.
I stared at the screen.
Mara read it over my shoulder.
"Could Bell have created this?"
"Ortiz doesn't think so."
"Why?"
"The file predates Bell's arrest."
Mara looked uneasy.
"What does Grant want from you?"
"I don't know."
Perrin entered the kitchen carrying Scout.
He climbed onto a chair.
"Are we having pancakes?"
Mara quickly closed the laptop.
"Absolutely."
That had become one of our rules.
Perrin did not live inside the investigation.
He knew enough.
More than any seven-year-old should.
But the rest belonged to adults.
We made pancakes.
Perrin spilled syrup.
Mara laughed when I burned the first batch.
For twenty minutes, Elias Grant did not exist.
Neither did Bell.
Rhea.
Simon.
The blue ledger.
The hidden corridors.
We were simply three people having breakfast.
Later that afternoon, Ortiz came to the house.
She brought two federal investigators.
The case had expanded beyond local police.
They believed Grant's foundation had been used to move money through infrastructure projects for decades.
They believed my father participated.
They also believed he eventually tried to expose it.
"Which may explain his death."
One investigator said.
I looked at the open reading room where the hidden wall once stood.
"Why schedule a meeting with me?"
The agent placed another document on the table.
"Because someone told Grant you were ready."
"Ready for what?"
"We don't know."
"Who told him?"
The agent looked uncomfortable.
"Bell's notes only use initials."
He turned the paper around.
W.M.
Mara leaned closer.
"Who is W.M.?"
Nobody answered.
I searched my memory.
Employees.
Relatives.
Former partners.
Then Perrin entered carrying a small wooden box.
"Dad?"
I turned.
"What is that?"
"I found it in the wall."
Every adult in the room froze.
"Where?"
"The reading room."
He pointed.
"Behind the shelf."
Ortiz immediately moved toward him.
"Don't open it."
Perrin stopped.
The box looked old.
Much older than anything Rhea had stored inside the passage.
A faded Mercer crest had been burned into the lid.
My father used the same crest on personal documents.
A technician examined the box before allowing it to be opened.
Inside was a key.
A photograph.
And an envelope.
The photograph showed my father standing beside Elias Grant.
Between them stood a woman I did not recognize.
On the back, my father had written one sentence.
If Caleb ever finds this, tell him William Mercer is alive.
My mouth went dry.
Mara stared at me.
"William?"
Ortiz looked confused.
"Who's William Mercer?"
I could barely answer.
"My grandfather."
The room became silent.
Arthur Mercer had always told us his father died before Simon and I were born.
There were photographs.
A grave.
A death certificate.
Everything.
Then again, Mara had once had those things too.
I opened the envelope.
Inside was a letter written in my father's handwriting.
Caleb,
If you are reading this, then they either killed me or I finally found the courage to disappear.
There are things about our family I never told you.
I told myself secrecy protected you and Simon.
It did not.
It only made you easier to control.
William is alive.
He has been alive all these years.
And if Grant is still running the organization, your grandfather is the only person who knows how it began.
Do not trust the official records.
Do not trust Bell.
Do not trust anyone who approaches you using the phrase "the house remembers."
Find William before they realize you know.
The letter ended there.
No address.
No explanation.
Only a small symbol drawn beneath my father's signature.
Perrin leaned against Mara.
"What does it mean?"
I looked toward Ortiz.
She was photographing the symbol.
Mara suddenly stood.
Her chair scraped across the floor.
"What?"
I asked.
She pointed toward the page.
"I've seen that before."
"Where?"
Her face had gone white.
"At Cedar Vale."
My heartbeat accelerated.
"On the walls?"
"No."
"Where?"
Mara looked at me.
"On the ring worn by the man who visited me every month."
Nobody moved.
"What man?"
"I never knew his name."
"Was it Grant?"
She shook her head.
"No."
"Bell?"
"No."
"Voss?"
"No."
I stepped closer.
"What did he look like?"
Mara swallowed.
"Older."
"White hair."
"Tall."
"He walked with a cane."
"And every time he came into the room, Rhea left."
A cold feeling moved through me.
"What did he say to you?"
"Almost nothing."
"Think."
Mara closed her eyes.
Then she remembered.
Her eyes opened slowly.
"The first time he saw me, he looked at my wedding ring."
"What else?"
"He asked who I married."
"You told him?"
"Yes."
"What happened?"
"He started laughing."
My stomach tightened.
"Why?"
Mara whispered the answer.
"He said Arthur's boy finally married someone brave."
Ortiz stared at me.
I could barely breathe.
Mara continued.
"Before he left, he said something else."
"What?"
She looked toward the letter in my hands.
"The house remembers."
Silence filled the room.
I looked again at my father's warning.
Do not trust anyone who approaches you using the phrase the house remembers.
My phone rang.
Unknown number.
Nobody spoke.
Ortiz motioned for me to put it on speaker.
I answered.
"Hello?"
For several seconds, there was only static.
Then an elderly man's voice spoke.
"Caleb."
My skin went cold.
"Who is this?"
The man laughed softly.
Not cruelly.
Almost sadly.
"You sound like Arthur."
Mara gripped the edge of the table.
I looked at the photograph.
At the letter.
At the name of a grandfather who had supposedly been dead for more than fifty years.
"William?"
The man became silent.
Then he said the words my father had warned me about.
"The house remembers."
Ortiz was already signaling for the call to be traced.
I forced myself to speak.
"Where are you?"
"Closer than you think."
"Why did my father say you were dead?"
"Because I asked him to."
"Why?"
"To keep him alive."
My hand tightened around the phone.
"It didn't work."
The man stopped breathing for a moment.
When he spoke again, the grief in his voice sounded real.
"No."
"It did not."
I looked at Mara.
"Did you visit my wife at Cedar Vale?"
"Yes."
My heart pounded.
"Why didn't you free her?"
Another long silence.
"Because if I had moved too soon, all three of you would have died."
Anger surged through me.
"You watched her suffer."
"I watched all of you suffer."
"That's not an answer."
"No."
"It is a confession."
Ortiz wrote something.
KEEP TALKING.
I stared at the old family photograph.
"Who is the Director?"
The man laughed once.
"You are asking the wrong question."
"What is the right question?"
"Why does Elias Grant believe the Director is still alive?"
I felt a chill.
"Isn't he?"
"No."
"Then who is controlling the network?"
The elderly voice became quiet.
"Someone who has been using the Director's name for twelve years."
"Who?"
"Meet me."
"Where?"
"I'll send instructions."
"No games."
"No police."
Ortiz rolled her eyes at that.
I almost smiled despite myself.
William continued.
"And Caleb?"
"What?"
"Bring Mara."
I looked at her.
"Why?"
"Because she has already met the person you're searching for."
Mara went completely still.
"What does that mean?"
But the line disconnected.
A message arrived seconds later.
One photograph.
An abandoned white farmhouse surrounded by trees.
Beneath it were coordinates.
Ortiz looked at me.
"We're not walking into this blind."
I nodded.
For once, I agreed without argument.
Across the kitchen, Perrin hugged Scout against his chest.
Mara moved beside him.
I looked at them.
Six months earlier, I believed my wife was dead.
Two weeks earlier, I believed Rhea loved me.
Days earlier, I believed my father's corruption was the darkest secret in our family.
Now my dead grandfather had called me.
Someone had been controlling Rhea.
Bell had been controlled by someone else.
Elias Grant appeared to be waiting for me.
And Mara had apparently already met the person behind it all without realizing who they were.
I picked up my father's letter.
The final sentence suddenly felt less like a warning and more like an invitation.
Find William before they realize you know.
I looked at Ortiz.
"When do we leave?"
She checked the coordinates.
"Tonight."
Mara reached for my hand.
This time, I held on.
Whatever waited at that farmhouse would not find the same family Rhea had broken.
Perrin had survived the wall.
Mara had survived captivity.
I had survived learning that nearly every truth I built my life around was a lie.
Now we were done running from the people hiding behind those lies.
Somewhere beyond the windows, evening settled over the estate.
The old passage stood open and brightly lit.
No hidden door.
No darkness.
No place left for secrets to hide.
At least, that was what I wanted to believe.
Then Perrin looked toward the empty corridor.
His smile disappeared.
"Dad?"
"What?"
He pointed into the passage.
Someone had placed a single white envelope on the floor.
It had not been there ten minutes earlier.
Ortiz drew her weapon.
Officers rushed forward.
Nobody was inside.
No doors had opened.
No alarms had sounded.
Ortiz carefully lifted the envelope.
My name was written across the front.
Inside was one photograph.
Mara gasped.
I stared at it.
The photograph had been taken that morning.
Through our kitchen window.
It showed Mara.
Perrin.
And me making pancakes.
Three words were written beneath us.
May you like
WE SEE EVERYTHING.
TOBE CONTINUED
