Chapter 9 - One More Week.
Nathan had known Grant Mercer since they were boys racing bicycles down the same private road behind their grandparents' estate.
Grant had stood beside him at Amelia's funeral.
Grant had held Isabella when she was a baby.
Grant had introduced Camille as a woman who understood loss and deserved a second chance after a difficult career setback.
Nathan now wondered how many of those moments had been staged long before he recognized the stage.
He called Grant from the library while a detective listened on speakerphone.
Grant answered cheerfully.
"Back early from Chicago?"
Nathan forced his voice to remain normal.
"Yeah."
"Everything good?"
Nathan looked at Isabella.
"Not really."
There was a pause.
"What's wrong?"
"Camille and Isabella had some kind of fight."
Grant sighed with practiced sympathy.
"I told you that situation was getting unhealthy."
Nathan's eyes hardened.
"You told me what?"
Grant corrected himself too quickly.
"Camille mentioned some behavior issues."
Nathan said nothing.
Silence was useful now.
Grant filled it.
"Look, Nate, kids can act out after losing a parent, even years later."
Nathan stared at the recorder on the table.
"You think Isabella needs Westridge?"
Another pause.
This one was longer.
"I don't know anything about Westridge."
Nathan watched the detective write something down.
"Interesting."
"Why?"
"Because Camille put Isabella's belongings in bags labeled for Westridge."
Grant's breathing changed.
"Maybe she was researching options."
"You just said you knew nothing about it."
Grant became defensive.
"Don't twist my words."
Nathan almost smiled.
Camille used the same phrase whenever cornered.
"Grant, did you visit my house yesterday?"
"No."
Isabella looked at Nathan and slowly shook her head.
Nathan continued.
"You're sure?"
"Of course I'm sure."
The detective underlined something on his pad.
Nathan ended the call without warning.
Ten minutes later, Peter brought in the estate's vehicle access log.
Grant's license plate had entered the property at 11:08 the previous morning and exited at 11:46.
His lie had lasted less than five minutes.
Nathan wanted to confront him immediately, but the detective advised patience.
"If they think you know everything, they'll stop moving."
Nathan looked at Isabella.
"And if I pretend I know nothing?"
"They may finish whatever they planned for this week."
Nathan hated the idea.
The detective continued.
"But now we can watch."
That evening, Nathan told Camille he needed space and would take Isabella to a hotel.
Camille responded through her attorney that leaving the marital residence might be interpreted as abandonment.
The wording was so calculated that Nathan felt physically ill.
Instead, he moved Isabella into the guest suite beside his bedroom and asked Peter to remain in the house overnight.
At 1:13 a.m., Nathan received an alert from the estate gate.
Grant's car had entered.
Nathan looked through the upstairs window.
No headlights moved along the main driveway.
Grant had used the service entrance.
Nathan quietly woke Peter and called the detective.
Then he checked Isabella's room.
The bed was empty.
Nathan's heart stopped.
The bathroom was empty too.
Her blanket lay on the floor near the balcony door.
Nathan ran into the hallway and shouted her name.
No answer.
Then he heard three soft knocks from inside the wall.
He opened the linen closet.
Isabella was crouched behind stacked towels, shaking.
"He came upstairs," she whispered.
Nathan knelt and held her.
"Who?"
"Mr. Grant."
"Did he touch you?"
"No."
She pointed toward Nathan's bedroom.
"He went in there."
Nathan entered his room with the detective arriving seconds behind him.
The window was open.
On the carpet beside Nathan's bed lay a small amber prescription bottle that did not belong to him.
The label had been removed.
Inside were white tablets.
May you like
Grant had not come to take Isabella.
He had come to leave something that could make Nathan look dangerous, sick, or dead.
