Chapter Ninety— The First Victim
Chapter Ninety— The First Victim
The words on the photograph refused to leave Oliver’s mind.
HE WASN’T FIRST.
For two days, every investigator assigned to Richard Haywood’s case had tried to decipher what they meant. Every theory seemed plausible, yet none fit perfectly.
Marcus leaned back in his chair inside the temporary investigation room at Haywood Global, rubbing tired eyes.
“We’ve been looking at this the wrong way.”
Oliver looked up from the dozens of financial reports spread across the conference table.
“Explain.”
Marcus rotated his laptop toward him.
“We assumed Victor was talking about Richard.”
Oliver nodded.
“Because Richard is the center of everything.”
“Exactly.”
Marcus clicked another file.
“But what if he wasn’t?”
Oliver frowned.
“What if the message wasn’t about Richard…”
“…but about the crime?”
Silence settled over the room.
Marcus continued.
“If Victor wanted your attention, he wouldn’t leave a meaningless clue.”
“He wanted you to investigate.”
Oliver stared at the photograph again.
“He wasn’t first.”
His eyes slowly widened.
“The victim…”
Marcus nodded.
“Exactly.”
“There was someone before Sophia.”
“Before Margaret.”
“Before every witness we’ve uncovered.”
Oliver stood abruptly.
“So who was Richard’s first victim?”
Three hours later…
Marcus had transformed the conference room into something resembling an FBI evidence center.
Photographs.
Corporate records.
Old newspaper clippings.
Retirement announcements.
Employee files dating back nearly forty years.
Oliver stood before the massive evidence wall.
“Richard became CEO thirty-one years ago.”
Marcus nodded.
“So we start there.”
The team worked in silence.
Hours passed.
Names blurred together.
Executives.
Secretaries.
Lawyers.
Accountants.
Drivers.
Nothing.
Until…
Marcus suddenly froze.
“Oliver.”
“What?”
“You need to see this.”
He projected an old company newsletter onto the large screen.
A faded photograph appeared.
A much younger Richard Haywood stood beside another man during an award ceremony.
The caption read:
Congratulations to Senior Financial Auditor Daniel Mercer for uncovering accounting discrepancies and protecting shareholder interests.
Oliver stepped closer.
“Daniel Mercer.”
Marcus clicked another file.
“Promoted.”
Another click.
“Transferred.”
Another.
“Missing.”
Oliver looked sharply at him.
“Missing?”
Marcus opened a police report dated twenty-nine years earlier.
Daniel Mercer reported missing after a boating accident off the Connecticut coast.
“No body recovered.”
“Case closed.”
Oliver’s jaw tightened.
“Convenient.”
Marcus wasn’t finished.
“Listen to this.”
He opened Daniel’s personnel evaluation.
“‘Employee recently raised concerns regarding unauthorized offshore transfers requiring executive approval.’”
Oliver slowly looked up.
“Executive approval.”
Marcus nodded.
“Richard.”
By evening…
Oliver and Marcus sat inside the National Archives building reviewing old financial documents.
One elderly archivist carefully carried over another dusty storage box.
“This hasn’t been opened in decades.”
Oliver thanked her.
Inside…
Folders.
Letters.
Expense reports.
Then…
A brown envelope.
No label.
Marcus carefully unfolded its contents.
A handwritten letter.
The paper had yellowed with age.
Oliver began reading aloud.
If anything happens to me, Richard Haywood is responsible.
Both men exchanged stunned looks.
Oliver continued.
I discovered accounts transferring millions through shell corporations. Richard ordered me to destroy the records. I refused.
Marcus whispered,
“My God…”
Oliver kept reading.
Harold Haywood doesn’t know.
That sentence stopped both of them.
Harold.
Oliver’s grandfather.
The founder of Haywood Global.
The man Oliver had admired his entire life.
Marcus frowned.
“So Harold wasn’t involved.”
Oliver shook his head.
“No.”
“My grandfather would’ve shut the company down before allowing something like this.”
Marcus agreed.
“Daniel believed Harold was innocent.”
Oliver carefully folded the letter.
“This changes everything.”
Elsewhere…
Victor Sloan watched the rain fall against the windshield of his parked car.
He hadn’t moved in almost an hour.
Across the street stood a modest suburban home.
The mailbox read:
EVELYN CARTER
Victor smiled faintly.
“So…”
“You survived.”
His phone vibrated.
A single message.
STATUS?
Victor typed only three words.
Watching the daughter.
The reply came instantly.
No mistakes.
Victor deleted the conversation.
Back in New York…
Marcus continued searching Daniel Mercer’s records.
“Oliver…”
“I found his family.”
Oliver immediately walked over.
“Wife?”
“Died years ago.”
“Children?”
Marcus nodded.
“One.”
He enlarged a government database.
Emily Mercer
Current status…
Name legally changed twenty-four years ago.
Current name:
Evelyn Carter.
Oliver recognized it instantly.
“The house Victor’s watching…”
Marcus looked confused.
“What?”
Oliver reached into his pocket.
He removed a photograph taken by FBI surveillance earlier that afternoon.
The same mailbox.
Evelyn Carter.
Marcus stared.
“How…”
Oliver’s voice hardened.
“Victor already knows.”
Across town…
Evelyn Carter locked the front door behind her.
She had just returned from work.
Her life was ordinary.
Quiet.
Predictable.
Exactly the way she wanted it.
She never spoke about her father anymore.
Most people didn’t even know Daniel Mercer had existed.
She walked into the kitchen.
Made tea.
Fed her golden retriever.
Sat beside the living room window.
Outside…
A black sedan slowly drove past.
She barely noticed.
Inside that sedan…
Victor removed a faded photograph from his coat pocket.
It showed a smiling Daniel Mercer holding the hand of a little girl.
He looked at the child.
Then looked toward Evelyn’s house.
Thirty years had changed her face.
Not enough.
He slipped the photograph back into his pocket.
“The past always catches up.”
He started the engine.
Then drove away.
Not because he had given up…
But because he knew Oliver would come.
And Victor preferred hunting prey that believed it still had a chance.
Back at Haywood Global…
Oliver gathered Marcus and the FBI team.
“We move tonight.”
Marcus nodded.
“We’ll put Evelyn Carter under federal protection.”
Oliver shook his head.
“No.”
Marcus frowned.
“No?”
“If Victor’s watching her…”
“He already expects protection.”
Oliver’s expression became determined.
“We’re not just protecting Evelyn.”
“We’re setting a trap.”
The room fell silent.
One FBI agent finally asked,
“You think Victor will walk into it?”
Oliver’s eyes remained fixed on Daniel Mercer’s letter.
“He has protected Richard’s secrets for nearly thirty years.”
“He won’t let the last witness live.”
Oliver slowly folded the letter and slipped it into an evidence folder.
“This time…”
“We’ll be waiting.”
Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, thunder rolled across Manhattan.
Somewhere in the darkness, two hunters were preparing for the same night.
One intended to protect the truth.
The other intended to bury it forever.