Detective Chen watched Bernice’s video twice without saying anything.
We had gone back inside the financial-crimes building rather than continue toward the parking garage. Gregory’s public statement was already spreading online, but for the moment that problem belonged to Harrington’s communications team. Bernice’s message belonged to the police.
On the second viewing, Chen paused the video after Bernice said Evelyn’s death had not been an accident.
“Send me the original file,” she said.
I forwarded it.
“Do not edit, compress, repost, or respond.”
“I wasn’t planning to.”
“Good.”
Raymond stood beside the conference-room door with his arms folded.
Sandra had taken Gregory and his attorney into another room so they could discuss the consequences of his unscheduled statement to the press.
I sat across from Chen.
“Does that count as a confession?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because she did not say she caused Evelyn’s death.”
“She strongly implied knowledge.”
“Yes.”
Chen leaned back.
“That makes the message important. It does not make it proof.”
Her refusal to give me an easy answer was strangely reassuring.
“What happens now?”
“We locate the original crash file.”
“After eight years?”
“If it still exists.”
My stomach tightened.
“And Evelyn’s autopsy?”
“If one was performed, we obtain it.”
“What do you think Bernice meant?”
Chen closed her notebook.
“What I think is less useful than what we can establish.”
Raymond almost smiled.
I understood why.
She sounded like Douglas.
Evidence before emotion.
Chen asked for everything Evelyn’s files contained about the weeks before her death.
That meant returning to Sandra’s office.
By the time we arrived, Gregory was already there.
He looked exhausted.
The spectacle outside the police building had left his face pale and his hands restless.
His attorney, Daniel Kessler, stood near the window speaking quietly on his phone.
Gregory looked toward me.
“I shouldn’t have done that without warning you.”
“No.”
“I just couldn’t let her keep saying you attacked me.”
“That part needed correcting.”
“I know.”
“But turning a police inquiry into a press conference is not helpful.”
He nodded.
“I know.”
There was no argument.
That, at least, was new.
Sandra opened Evelyn’s blue archive box on the conference table.
“Crash documents first.”
We searched chronologically.
The final six months of Evelyn’s life occupied two folders.
One contained business records.
The other was labeled PERSONAL — IF SOMETHING HAPPENS.
Nobody spoke when Sandra read the label.
Inside were copies of emails, handwritten notes, and several pages of what looked like a diary maintained only intermittently.
The final entries were terse.
B. angry about Mercer account.
B. knows I copied original statements.
Says I am choosing outsiders over family.
Then, five days later:
B. asked where files are stored.
Told her office.
Not true.
The next entry was two weeks later.
Received call from blocked number. Male voice. Told me to stop interfering.
I looked at Chen, who had joined us remotely by video.
“Did Evelyn report this?”
“We’ll check.”
Another entry:
Car moved overnight? Parking position different. Need mechanic to inspect.
Gregory leaned forward.
“What?”
I reread it.
Evelyn apparently believed someone had moved her vehicle.
The following page held a receipt.
Auto repair shop.
Inspection requested.
Brake system.
Steering.
Tires.
Nothing unusual found.
Raymond frowned.
“So she was already worried about the car.”
“Yes.”
Sandra turned another page.
A handwritten letter followed.
Not addressed.
Probably unfinished.
If B. believes I am trying to expose her, she will not stop at embarrassment. She destroys credibility first. She did it to Dana. Tried with Patricia. If something happens to me, do not accept the simplest explanation without checking.
My skin prickled.
Eight years later, Bernice had used exactly that pattern against me.
Destroy credibility first.
Then isolate.
Then pressure.
“What was the date?” Chen asked.
I checked.
“Nine days before the crash.”
Chen wrote something down.
The final diary entry came three days before Evelyn died.
Met B. at townhouse.
Argument.
She wants files.
Said Gregory belongs to her and everyone who interferes eventually leaves.
Then a final line:
She knows about Lorelei.
I closed my eyes.
Even at the end, my name had been part of it.
Gregory sat motionless.
“My aunt died because of me.”
“No,” I said.
He looked at me.
“You don’t know that.”
“And neither do you.”
“She was fighting over my money.”
“She was fighting over many people.”
His eyes reddened.
“That doesn’t make it better.”
“No.”
Sandra reached into the folder.
“One more item.”
A business card.
On the back Evelyn had written:
Officer Dean Mercer — traffic division.
Same surname.
I looked at Gregory.
“Relative?”
His face changed.
“My mother’s cousin.”
Sandra went still.
“Police officer?”
“He retired years ago.”
Chen’s voice sharpened through the speaker.
“Full name?”
“Dean Mercer.”
“City?”
Gregory gave it.
Chen stood from wherever she was.
“I’ll call you back.”
The video ended.
Raymond looked at me.
“What are the odds?”
“Of what?”
“That the relative investigating your aunt’s crash happened to be family.”
“We don’t know that he investigated it.”
“No.”
But the possibility sat heavily between us.
Sandra found the crash report before Chen called back.
It was available through an archived insurance file Evelyn had kept.
The document listed responding personnel.
Officer Dean Mercer.
I felt cold.
Gregory whispered, “No.”
The report described wet pavement, excessive speed, and loss of control on a rural curve.
Single vehicle.
Impact with trees.
No witnesses.
No alcohol detected.
Weather poor.
Road slick.
Case closed as accidental.
One detail bothered me.
Evelyn’s diary showed fear concerning her car.
The crash report said mechanical failure was “not indicated.”
I scanned the pages.
“Was the vehicle inspected?”
Sandra looked.
“Doesn’t say.”
“There should be something.”
Gregory rubbed his forehead.
“Dean wouldn’t cover something up.”
I looked at him.
“You said something similar about your mother yesterday.”
He flinched.
“I know.”
Raymond said, “What was Dean’s relationship with Bernice?”
“Close when I was young. Less later.”
“Did he know Evelyn?”
“Of course. Family holidays, birthdays.”
“Did he like her?”
Gregory considered.
“I don’t remember.”
Chen called back ten minutes later.
Her expression was harder.
“Dean Mercer was the primary officer on Evelyn March’s crash.”
“We saw.”
“He retired six months afterward.”
“Normal?”
“Possibly.”
“Anything else?”
“Yes.”
She looked down at notes.
“The vehicle was released to family less than twenty-four hours after the crash.”
My stomach tightened.
“Which family?”
“Bernice Mercer.”
Gregory closed his eyes.
Chen continued.
“The car was scrapped four days later.”
Raymond swore.
Sandra leaned forward.
“Who authorized destruction?”
“Registered owner was deceased. Next-of-kin process appears to have been expedited.”
“By Dean?”
“We don’t know yet.”
I stared at Evelyn’s diary.
Car moved overnight?
Need mechanic.
Then less than two weeks later, she was dead.
Her vehicle was gone four days afterward.
“What about photographs?” I asked.
“Crash-scene photographs exist.”
“Vehicle?”
“Exterior only.”
“No brake examination?”
“Nothing preserved in the original file that I have seen.”
My frustration rose.
“So whatever happened mechanically is gone.”
“Maybe.”
Chen lifted one page.
“Except Evelyn’s insurer arranged a preliminary salvage assessment before the vehicle was destroyed.”
My pulse quickened.
“Where is it?”
“Archived.”
“Can we get it?”
“I requested it.”
“How long?”
“As soon as the insurer produces it.”
She looked directly at me.
“Do not contact Dean Mercer.”
“I won’t.”
“Do not contact Bernice.”
“I won’t.”
Gregory shifted.
“What about me?”
“Especially you.”
He nodded.
Chen ended the call.
For several minutes we continued reviewing Evelyn’s final records.
Then Sandra found a receipt that did not appear related.
Taxi.
Date: the night before Evelyn’s death.
Pickup location: Bernice’s townhouse.
Destination: Evelyn’s address.
Time: 11:42 p.m.
Gregory frowned.
“Why would Aunt Evelyn take a cab from Mom’s house?”
“Maybe she didn’t.”
I turned the receipt over.
Evelyn had written:
Found under passenger seat.
Not mine.
The room went quiet.
Someone had taken a taxi from Bernice’s townhouse to Evelyn’s home late at night.
Then the receipt ended up beneath Evelyn’s passenger seat.
Possibility one: Evelyn had ridden in the taxi.
Possibility two: someone else did, arrived at Evelyn’s house, then entered her car.
“Can an eight-year-old cab record still exist?” Raymond asked.
Sandra looked doubtful.
“But payment records might.”
The receipt listed the final four digits of a card.
Gregory stared.
“I know those.”
“What?”
“That was my mother’s old Visa.”
My skin prickled.
“You’re sure?”
“She used that card forever.”
Sandra photographed the receipt.
“Get Detective Chen.”
This time Chen came in person.
She arrived forty minutes later and took custody of copies.
The evidence did not prove murder.
It proved Bernice’s card paid for transportation to Evelyn’s house the night before the crash.
Perhaps Bernice herself went.
Perhaps someone used her card.
But her threatening video suddenly seemed far less theatrical.
Chen warned us again.
“Do not decide the conclusion first.”
“We won’t.”
Gregory asked, “Are you going to question my mother?”
“When appropriate.”
“She knows we have Evelyn’s box.”
“Yes.”
“What if she destroys more?”
“Then that becomes evidence too.”
He looked unconvinced.
Chen studied him.
“Mr. Mercer, the fastest way to ruin this case is to force her into a confrontation before we know what we need.”
He nodded.
My phone vibrated.
Unknown number.
For one second everyone froze.
I showed Chen.
“Open it.”
A photograph.
Not current.
Old.
Evelyn standing beside her car.
The image had been taken from across a parking lot.
Underneath:
Your aunt should have known when to stop.
Gregory made a strangled sound.
Then another message arrived.
You should too.
Chen held out her hand.
“Give me the phone.”
I did.
A third message appeared while she was holding it.
This one contained no words.
Only an image of the apartment above Raymond’s gym.
Taken that morning.
Raymond’s face changed.
“She knows where Lorelei stayed.”
Chen immediately began making calls.
The address was no longer safe.
Sandra closed Evelyn’s box.
“We’re moving.”
I looked through the conference-room window at the darkening afternoon.
The problem was no longer whether Bernice had committed crimes years ago.
The problem was that she was still watching.
And after eight years of believing Evelyn’s death had buried the past, she had just learned that the one woman Evelyn had tried to protect now possessed every file she thought had disappeared.
Click here to continue reading: PART 14: A Forgotten Insurance Report Revealed What Happened to Evelyn’s Car Hours Before Her Death, and the Name Attached to It Was Still Alive
Three Days After the Wedding, One Late Dinner Exposed the Man Gregory Had Carefully Hidden Until the Marriage Papers Were Signed
Part 13 of 17
