Chapter 7 - THE MAN WHO WANTED HIM BLIND
Vernon Hale lasted forty-three hours on the run.
Federal marshals found him in a motel outside Albany using his dead brother’s name.
By midnight, he was sitting in an interview room with two federal agents, Grant’s attorney, and enough evidence to put him in prison for decades.
Hale asked for protection.
Then he started talking.
Hannah sat beside Grant in his private office while his attorney relayed the confession over speakerphone.
“Hale says Daniel approached him six months before the explosion,” the attorney said. “He owed substantial gambling debts. Daniel bought them.”
Grant’s mouth hardened.
“Continue.”
“After the explosion, Hale altered your records. Your injuries were severe enough that nobody questioned the prognosis at first.”
“At first.”
“Yes.”
“Meaning?”
“Within eleven months, some testing indicated returning visual response.”
Hannah closed her eyes.
Grant said nothing.
The attorney continued.
“Hale suppressed the results.”
The words entered Grant quietly.
That almost made them worse.
At eleven months, Emma had been dead less than a year.
He remembered sitting alone in the library every night.
Remembered asking Hale whether anything had changed.
Remembered the man placing a hand on his shoulder.
I wish I could tell you something different, Grant.
He had sounded compassionate.
“He knew?” Grant asked.
“Yes.”
“How much could I have seen?”
“Hale doesn’t know. He says rehabilitation should have started immediately.”
Grant pressed both palms against the desk.
Four years.
Not five.
Four years in which there might have been improvement.
Four years Daniel had taken deliberately.
“Hale says Daniel wanted you alive,” the attorney continued. “Your name held the organization together. If you died, rival groups would challenge Mercer territory. If you lived but depended on Daniel, Daniel could operate behind your authority.”
Grant laughed without humor.
“He wanted a king who couldn’t see the board.”
“Exactly.”
“And Caroline?”
Silence.
Grant’s stomach twisted.
“Tell me.”
“The bomb was intended for you.”
Hannah reached for Grant’s hand.
He allowed it.
“Daniel believed you were going to discover the financial diversion. Caroline had confronted him privately two days earlier.”
Grant stopped breathing.
“She confronted him?”
“Yes.”
“Alone?”
“Yes.”
Grant pictured Caroline.
Five foot six.
Dark hair.
Fearless when she should have been cautious.
Of course she confronted him.
“She threatened to tell me.”
“That appears to be what happened.”
“Daniel ordered the bomb.”
“Yes.”
“And he knew Caroline and Emma might be there?”
Another pause.
“We don’t know.”
Grant’s voice became ice.
“I do.”
He ended the call.
Hannah remained beside him.
For a long time, Grant said nothing.
Then he whispered, “I should have known.”
“No.”
“I built my life around men like Daniel.”
“You also trusted your wife.”
“And didn’t listen soon enough.”
“You didn’t know.”
“I should have.”
Hannah squeezed his hand.
“Grant, guilt is just another kind of darkness if you decide to live inside it.”
He turned toward her.
Even blurred, her outline had become familiar.
“Where did you learn to talk like that?”
“Being broke with a baby gives you an unreasonable amount of time to think.”
He smiled faintly.
Then remembered something.
“Your husband.”
Hannah’s hand withdrew.
“What about him?”
“You said he disappeared.”
She looked down.
“I was seven months pregnant when Owen emptied our bank account and left.”
Grant’s expression tightened.
“He stole from you?”
“Everything.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“You never asked.”
Grant absorbed that.
For two years, Hannah had lived in his house.
He knew which floorboards she polished on Wednesdays.
He knew how softly she walked.
He did not know what had happened to her.
“Did he ever contact Lucy?”
“No.”
“Do you know where he is?”
“Florida, I think. He remarried.”
Grant’s jaw hardened.
Hannah immediately pointed a finger at him.
“No.”
“What?”
“You are not sending men to Florida.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“Your face did.”
“I’m visually impaired. You cannot accuse my face of crimes.”
She laughed despite herself.
The sound warmed something inside him.
Then the mansion lights died.
Every light.
Every alarm.
Every electronic lock.
Grant knew because Hannah inhaled sharply.
“Power’s out.”
Grant stood.
Backup generators should have activated within three seconds.
They did not.
His phone had no signal.
A jammer.
“Lucy.”
“She’s with Maria downstairs.”
Grant reached for his cane and pistol.
“Stay behind me.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Hannah.”
“You still see shadows.”
“I fought blind for five years.”
“That is not comforting.”
A distant gunshot echoed through the mansion.
Then another.
Grant’s security chief shouted from downstairs.
Someone screamed.
Daniel had come home.
Grant moved into the hallway.
Darkness gave him an advantage again.
Men who relied on cameras and lights suddenly had neither.
Grant had maps inside his head.
He knew the west staircase had thirteen steps before the landing.
He knew the third corridor narrowed by eight inches near the gallery.
He knew the library door squeaked during humid weather.
They descended through the servant passage.
Below them, men moved.
Grant counted four sets of footsteps.
Hannah whispered, “I can barely see.”
“I can.”
She stared at him.
He almost smiled.
“For once, we’re even.”
They reached the kitchen.
Empty.
Then Lucy’s voice came from the pantry.
“Mommy?”
Hannah rushed to her.
Maria was inside with two other staff members.
“Mr. Cross came through the front entrance,” Maria whispered. “Security let him in before they realized his access had been revoked.”
Grant’s expression hardened.
“How many?”
“Six, maybe eight.”
A voice thundered through the mansion’s emergency speaker system.
Daniel.
“Grant.”
Everyone froze.
Daniel laughed softly.
“You always did love dramatic houses.”
Grant looked toward the ceiling.
“I know you can hear me. Bring Caroline’s files to the ballroom.”
Hannah whispered, “He doesn’t know they’re already with federal agents.”
“No.”
Daniel continued.
“Come alone, or the next room I burn won’t be empty.”
Grant looked at Lucy.
Hannah grabbed his arm.
“You are not going alone.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
Grant leaned close.
“You take Lucy through the wine cellar tunnel.”
Her eyes widened.
“What tunnel?”
“The one I never told Daniel about.”
“You have a secret tunnel?”
“I inherited a mafia mansion, Hannah. Of course I have a secret tunnel.”
Even now, she almost laughed.
Grant pressed a small key into her hand.
“Behind rack twenty-two. Door releases into the old greenhouse.”
“Come with us.”
“I can’t.”
“You can.”
“If Daniel realizes nobody is coming, he searches.”
Hannah’s eyes filled.
“He wants to kill you.”
“He has wanted that for five years.”
“That does not make this acceptable.”
Grant touched her cheek.
This time the gesture was not medical.
“I need you to get Lucy out.”
Hannah covered his hand.
“Then come back.”
He paused.
“For the first time in five years, I have somewhere I want to come back to.”
Their foreheads touched.
One second.
Then two.
Grant turned away.
He walked toward the ballroom alone.
Daniel waited inside.
Grant could make out his silhouette against the moonlit windows.
“You look different,” Daniel said.
Grant stopped.
“So do you.”
Daniel laughed.
“You can see me?”
“Enough.”
For the first time, Grant heard genuine fear in his former friend’s voice.
“That’s unfortunate.”
“Not for me.”
Daniel raised a gun.
Grant saw the movement.
Not clearly.
But enough.
“You stole four years from me,” Grant said.
“I gave you five.”
“What?”
“You should have died at Pier 17.”
Grant’s face went cold.
Daniel stepped closer.
“But the great Grant Mercer survived. Blind, grieving, useless—and everyone still listened to you. Do you know what that was like?”
“Yes.”
Daniel frowned.
“What?”
“To spend years trapped behind another man’s decisions.”
Daniel’s finger tightened around the trigger.
Grant continued.
“That’s why I knew you would come here.”
Blue lights suddenly flashed beyond the windows.
Dozens.
Daniel turned.
Federal agents poured through the gates.
Grant smiled.
“You never knew about Caroline’s second phone.”
Daniel’s face twisted.
“You’re bluffing.”
“No.”
Grant was.
Hannah had used the tunnel exit to call authorities.
But Daniel did not know that.
The distraction lasted one second.
It was enough.
Grant struck Daniel’s gun arm with his cane.
The weapon fired into the ceiling.
They crashed onto the ballroom floor.
Daniel punched Grant across the jaw.
Grant rolled.
Daniel reached for the pistol.
Then stopped.
A small yellow beam appeared from the doorway.
Lucy.
Hannah stood behind her with two federal agents.
Lucy’s flashlight pointed straight toward Daniel.
Grant saw the bright spot.
Saw Daniel’s dark shape.
Saw the gun.
Grant kicked it away.
Agents swarmed him.
Daniel Cross hit the floor in handcuffs beneath the chandelier where Caroline used to dance with Emma.
Grant remained on his knees.
Lucy ran to him.
“I helped.”
Hannah groaned.
“Lucy.”
Grant pulled the toddler against his chest.
“Yes,” he whispered.
“You did.”
And across the ballroom, dawn began to enter through the windows.
May you like
Grant could see it.
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