The Murder Vincent Never Denied
Chapter 05 - The Murder Vincent Never Denied
The dead man’s name was Samuel Price.
Accountant.
Fifty-four.
Found in a Brooklyn warehouse eighteen months earlier.
Shot once.
Mave remembered the week because Vincent had disappeared for two days and returned with a split knuckle.
She had made coffee.
He had said nothing.
The federal affidavit said Samuel Price had been investigating protected Costa accounts.
The same accounts Nolan watched.
The same network Elaine had discovered.
Dominic provided evidence that Vincent ordered the murder.
Mave read the copy on Nolan’s laptop in a rented office above a tire shop in Jersey City.
“This is convenient.”
Nolan sat across from her.
“Very.”
“Does convenient mean false?”
“No.”
She looked at him.
“Did Vincent order it?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did he kill Price?”
“No.”
“You sound certain.”
“I was with him that night.”
Mave frowned.
“Doing what?”
“Following Dominic.”
That changed the room.
“Why?”
“Price contacted Vincent.”
Mave stared.
“Vincent was working with him?”
“Quietly.”
“On Dominic?”
“Yes.”
Nolan opened another file.
Messages.
Price to V.C.
The protected accounts are still active.
Someone is using your signature.
Meet alone.
Mave’s pulse shifted.
“Vincent never told me.”
“Vincent tells nobody until secrecy becomes a fire.”
“That is not a compliment.”
“No.”
Nolan leaned back.
“Price suspected Dominic forged authorizations.”
“What happened?”
“Vincent went to the warehouse.”
“You were there.”
“Outside.”
“And?”
“Price was already dead.”
“Who else?”
“Dominic’s driver left five minutes before us.”
“Name?”
“Rafe Calder.”
Mave knew him.
Dominic’s quiet driver.
Always gloves.
Always polite.
“Why didn’t Vincent report it?”
Nolan laughed without humor.
“To who?”
“The police.”
“Price had an FBI badge in his pocket and a Costa ledger beside him.”
Mave stared.
“FBI?”
“Confidential forensic contractor.”
“So Vincent thought reporting the body would expose the whole organization.”
“Yes.”
“He chose himself.”
“And his companies.”
“Same excuse with more payroll.”
Nolan nodded.
“Fair.”
“What did Vincent do with the body?”
“Nothing.”
“Then why split knuckles?”
“He found Rafe the next day.”
Mave closed her eyes.
“Did he kill him?”
“No.”
“Beat him?”
“Yes.”
“How badly?”
“Badly.”
Mave stared at the wall.
She could care about Vincent and still hate what power had made easy for him.
Both were true.
“Did Rafe confess?”
“He said Dominic ordered him to scare Price.”
“Scare.”
“Yes.”
“Price ended up dead.”
“Yes.”
“Rafe blamed someone else?”
“Naturally.”
“Who?”
Nolan looked at her.
“Your father.”
The room went still.
Mave’s mouth went dry.
“That is impossible.”
“Why?”
“He would be—”
She calculated.
Fifty-eight.
Alive was not impossible.
Only emotionally impossible.
“Rafe said Michael Mercer came back.”
Mave stood.
“My father’s name was Michael Dane.”
Nolan’s expression changed.
“What?”
“Michael Dane.”
“Elaine’s husband?”
“Yes.”
Nolan stared.
“That is not the name in the old Costa file.”
“What name?”
He opened a database.
MICHAEL MERCER.
Elaine Mercer.
Spouse.
Mave stared.
“My mother changed his surname too.”
“Or yours.”
Mave took off her glasses.
The room blurred.
Maybe that helped.
Nolan continued carefully.
“Michael Mercer was not a civilian.”
“What was he?”
“Customs investigator.”
Mave closed her eyes.
Of course.
Another parent with a hidden job.
Another childhood built from edited paperwork.
“Did Vincent know?”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“Enough.”
“Did he know Michael might be alive?”
“Yes.”
The anger came back.
“Why didn’t he look?”
Nolan’s voice was quiet.
“He did.”
Mave stopped.
“When?”
“For years.”
“What?”
“He spent almost six million dollars looking.”
She stared.
“Why?”
“Guilt.”
“Over what?”
Nolan looked away.
That was the moment she knew.
“What did Vincent do?”
“Michael disappeared after meeting Anthony Costa.”
“Vincent was there.”
“Yes.”
“How old?”
“Twenty-two.”
“What happened?”
“Anthony learned Michael was Customs.”
Mave felt sick.
“Did Vincent turn him in?”
“No.”
“Then?”
“He tried to get Michael out.”
“Like my mother.”
“Yes.”
“But?”
“Michael refused to leave without Elaine.”
Mave gripped the desk.
“And?”
“Anthony’s men took him.”
“While Vincent watched.”
“Yes.”
“Did Vincent stop them?”
“No.”
The answer was clean.
Ugly.
Honest.
“Why?”
“He was afraid of his father.”
Mave laughed.
“There is always a reason.”
“Yes.”
“Nobody ever seems to think the reason is permission until after the damage.”
Nolan nodded.
Mave sat again.
“Did Michael survive?”
“I think so.”
“Why?”
“Because seven years ago, someone accessed a Costa protection account using an old code only Michael knew.”
Her chest tightened.
“And eighteen months ago?”
“The same code appeared near Samuel Price’s murder.”
Mave stared.
“Then my father may have killed him.”
“Or someone wants us to believe that.”
“Dominic.”
“Maybe.”
“Vincent.”
Nolan’s face hardened.
“No.”
“You trust him.”
“I distrust him accurately.”
That almost made her smile.
A knock sounded downstairs.
Nolan stood instantly.
No gun visible.
His hand moved toward his back.
Mave noticed.
“Who knows we’re here?”
“No one.”
“Then someone does.”
Footsteps climbed the stairs.
Slow.
One person.
Nolan moved Mave behind a file cabinet.
She stepped back out.
“No.”
“Mave.”
“I am done standing behind men while they decide which truth I get.”
He looked at her.
Then nodded.
Beside him.
Better.
The office door opened.
Leo entered.
No weapon drawn.
Nolan relaxed slightly.
“What?”
Leo looked at Mave.
“Vincent surrendered.”
Her chest tightened.
“To federal agents?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“To stop Dominic from using the warrant as a reason to raid the company.”
Mave stared.
“He turned himself in.”
“Yes.”
Leo held out an envelope.
“He asked me to give you this only if you wanted it.”
She looked at the handwriting.
Vincent’s.
MAVE.
She opened it.
One page.
I knew your father may have survived.
I looked for him because I owed Elaine the attempt, not because I had the right to enter your life.
I should have told you the day you applied.
I did not.
I told myself silence protected you.
It also protected me from what you would think of me.
That was the part I refused to admit.
Mave’s eyes blurred.
At the bottom:
If Dominic is using Michael’s name, the answer is in the thirty-thousand-dollar payments.
Do not trust the account labels.
Trust the routes.
Mave read it twice.
Logistics.
Her language.
She opened her tablet.
Pulled the transfer history.
Belize to New Jersey.
New Jersey to Queens.
Queens routing codes.
Not random.
The shipment numbers matched dates.
She cross-referenced warehouse departures.
Every thirty-thousand-dollar payment appeared within twelve hours of a refrigerated truck leaving one particular secondary facility.
Mave’s heart accelerated.
“What is that facility?” Nolan asked.
She zoomed in.
Warehouse 9.
Long Island City.
Officially empty for six years.
Mave looked at Leo.
“Who controls it?”
His face changed.
“Dominic.”
Then a fresh shipment ping appeared.
Scheduled tonight.
Cargo listed as medical equipment.
Destination:
Newark.
Mave stared.
The driver authorization used a name she had never seen in company records.
May you like
MICHAEL MERCER.
And for the first time in twenty-three years, her father’s name was moving through the Costa system in real time.
