Chapter 10 - The Company Car

There were twelve black SUVs registered to Mercer Holdings in Los Angeles County.

Only four had access to the Malibu property.

We pulled GPS logs.

One vehicle had stopped transmitting forty minutes earlier.

Assigned driver: Luis Ortega.

Luis had driven my father for fifteen years.

"He retired," I said.

Daniel shook his head. "On paper."

Marcus called in a favor with highway patrol. A plate reader had caught the SUV heading south on PCH.

We split up.

Daniel and Owen took the coastal road. Marcus and I cut inland.

Then Sophie's smartwatch came online.

One location burst.

Old Mercer guesthouse, Topanga Canyon.

The property had been unused since my father's death.

We arrived after dark.

No lights.

No cars.

The front door stood open.

I heard Sophie's voice from somewhere below.

"Dad?"

I ran toward the basement stairs.

Marcus grabbed my arm. "Wait."

A thin wire stretched across the doorway at ankle height.

Trap.

He cut it.

We descended.

Sophie sat tied to a chair in the wine cellar, crying but unharmed.

"Daddy!"

I rushed to her.

Claire was nowhere in sight.

"Where's Mom?"

"They took her upstairs."

"Who?"

"Vanessa and the old man."

Luis.

I freed Sophie and handed her to Marcus.

A floorboard creaked above us.

Then Claire screamed.

I ran upstairs.

The living room was empty.

The back door slammed.

I burst outside and saw Vanessa forcing Claire toward a waiting SUV.

Claire fought like hell.

"Vanessa!"

She turned.

For one second our eyes met.

Then Luis stepped from behind a tree and raised a gun.

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On the drive, I kept hearing Sophie's voice from the kitchen: You hurt me every day. The sentence changed shape now. It wasn't only about Vanessa's hand on her arm. It was about fear, secrecy, being told her memories were lies. By the time we reached Topanga, my anger had become something colder and more useful.

"Stop right there, Mr. Mercer."