Chapter 2 - What the Dashcam HeardThe police did not let Lauren watch the footage first.
She hated that.
She understood why.
The recording was now evidence in an investigation involving an adult deliberately threatening an eight-year-old child.
Still, waiting felt unbearable.
Grace spent the night in Lauren’s bedroom.
At 2:13 a.m., Lauren woke to find her daughter sitting upright.
“Mom?”
Lauren turned on the lamp.
“What is it?”
“Is Nadine coming back?”
“No.”
“You promise?”
Lauren hesitated only because she had spent her life teaching Grace that promises mattered.
Then she answered:
“Yes. I promise she will never be alone with you again.”
Grace lay down.
Within minutes, she was asleep.
Lauren was not.
At nine the next morning Detective Serena Walsh arrived.
She was in her early forties, composed without being cold.
“Grace does not need to repeat everything to every adult who asks,” she told Lauren. “We’ll arrange a trained child forensic interviewer.”
Lauren nodded.
“Did you watch the camera?”
“Yes.”
Lauren’s hands tightened.
“And?”
“The incident happened essentially as Grace described it.”
Lauren closed her eyes.
Even though she believed Grace completely, hearing that confirmation hurt.
“Nadine intentionally aimed toward her?”
“The recording appears consistent with that.”
“And the threat?”
“Clearly audible.”
Lauren looked away.
Walsh continued.
“But that isn’t the only reason I came.”
Lauren turned back.
“There’s additional footage.”
“From when?”
“About twelve minutes before you entered the garage.”
Lauren frowned.
“Grace wasn’t in the car then.”
“No.”
“Nadine was?”
“Yes.”
Walsh placed a transcript on the table.
Nadine had entered the vehicle alone.
She sat in the back seat and made a phone call.
The other person’s voice was too faint to identify clearly.
But Nadine’s words were recorded.
Lauren read.
NADINE: She found the blue envelope.
A pause.
NADINE: No, I didn’t let her keep it.
Another pause.
NADINE: She saw enough to know it belonged to Wesley.
Lauren’s fingers went numb.
She continued.
NADINE: I told you this was getting dangerous.
Then:
NADINE: If you want the rest, I want the rest of my money.
Lauren looked up.
“The rest of what money?”
“We don’t know.”
“Who was she talking to?”
“We’re working on it.”
Lauren read the final line.
NADINE: Grace is asking questions now.
A pause.
NADINE: I’ll handle her.
Lauren pushed the transcript away.
“No.”
Walsh studied her.
“What?”
“She wasn’t hired only to be Grace’s nanny.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Because nobody pays a nanny extra money to search a dead man’s study.”
Walsh nodded.
“That is one possibility.”
Lauren stood.
“I hired Nadine ten months ago.”
“How?”
“Through a placement agency.”
“Which one?”
“Briar Glen Domestic Staffing.”
Walsh wrote it down.
Lauren continued.
“She had excellent references. Background check. Everything.”
“Who recommended the agency?”
Lauren opened her mouth.
Then stopped.
Vivian.
Her sister-in-law.
Wesley’s older sister.
Vivian Mercer Hart had been the person who insisted Lauren needed help after Wesley died.
Lauren remembered sitting at the Mercer family’s Connecticut country club, exhausted and barely functioning.
Vivian had taken her hand.
You cannot do this alone.
Let me help.
Three days later she sent the agency’s contact details.
Lauren’s face must have changed because Walsh asked:
“Who?”
“My sister-in-law.”
“Name?”
“Vivian Mercer Hart.”
“Relationship with Nadine?”
“I don’t know of one.”
“Relationship with Wesley?”
“His sister.”
“Close?”
Lauren almost laughed.
Mercers did not have simple relationships.
“Complicated.”
She walked to the window.
Wesley and Vivian had worked together at Mercer Hospitality Group for years.
Their father, Martin Mercer, founded the company.
Wesley handled development and finance.
Vivian ran operations.
They fought constantly.
But when Wesley became ill, Vivian appeared almost every day.
She organized appointments.
Brought meals.
Took Grace to school.
Held Lauren when Wesley died.
Lauren had trusted her more after the funeral than she had before it.
Walsh asked, “Did your husband leave significant assets?”
“Yes.”
“How significant?”
Lauren looked at her.
“Mercer Hospitality is a private company.”
“I know.”
“Wesley owned forty percent.”
Walsh paused.
“And after his death?”
“Twenty-four percent passed to me.”
“And the rest?”
“Sixteen percent is held in trust for Grace.”
Walsh’s pen stopped.
“Who votes those shares?”
“Under the shareholder agreement, I hold the proxy until Grace is eighteen.”
Now Walsh’s expression changed.
“That means you control forty percent of the voting interest associated with your late husband’s estate.”
“Yes.”
“Is anything happening with the company currently?”
Lauren thought about the thick folder Vivian had delivered three weeks earlier.
A proposed sale.
A private-equity group wanted to acquire Mercer Hospitality for nearly half a billion dollars.
Vivian had urged Lauren to sign preliminary approval.
Lauren had refused until her lawyer reviewed everything.
Her stomach dropped.
“There is a pending sale.”
“For how much?”
“Approximately four hundred eighty million.”
Walsh sat back.
“And would your approval matter?”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
Lauren swallowed.
“They cannot complete it without me.”
Silence.
The detective looked at the transcript again.
Grace found the blue envelope.
I want the rest of my money.
I’ll handle her.
Walsh asked:
“Mrs. Mercer, where is Vivian now?”
Lauren reached for her phone.
She had a message from Vivian sent only six minutes earlier.
HEARD THERE WAS SOME TROUBLE WITH NADINE. CALL ME BEFORE YOU TALK TO ANYONE. PLEASE.
Lauren stared at the words.
Walsh noticed.
“Did you tell her about Nadine?”
“No.”
“Did Grace?”
“No.”
“Anyone at the house?”
“Not that I know of.”
Walsh held out her hand.
“Don’t delete that.”
Lauren’s pulse began pounding.
The dashcam had already proved Nadine lied.
May you like
Now it had opened a much more frightening question.
How did Vivian know?
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