Chapter 2 - Finley
His name was Finley Shaw.
At least that was the name on the temporary identification card in his backpack.
Seven years old.
Born six months after Evelyn supposedly died.
Mother:
Evelyn Shaw.
Father:
Not listed.
Address:
A small town eighty miles north.
How had he reached my mansion?
Bus.
Then taxi.
Then walked through the open estate gates during the wedding reception because temporary catering crews and floral vendors were moving constantly.
He had one instruction.
Find Merrick Halstead.
Who gave it?
His mother.
Where was she?
Finley would only say:
“Safe.”
Thomas wanted police immediately.
So did I.
Not my men.
Police.
Because if Evelyn was alive, I did not want anyone later claiming I had hidden witnesses or manipulated evidence.
Finley was examined by a pediatrician called to the estate.
No acute injury.
Red mark on shoulder where Maude grabbed him.
Hungry.
Exhausted.
Terrified.
He ate soup in my library while a child-services officer sat nearby.
I stayed across the room.
He watched me constantly.
Finally:
“Are you really Merrick?”
“Yes.”
“My mom said you’d be older.”
I almost laughed.
“Your mother knows me?”
He nodded.
Then looked at the photograph.
“She said you were her husband.”
My chest tightened.
“What else did she say?”
The child-services officer raised a hand.
“Let the formal interview handle detailed questions.”
Correct.
I stopped.
Then Finley asked me one.
“Did you think she was dead?”
“Yes.”
His face changed.
Not shock.
Sadness.
May you like
“She thought you hated her.”
That sentence hurt more than the photograph.
