Chapter 2 - The Name He Had Buried for Thirty Years
The rain had become heavier by the time Nia left Belmont House.
Calvin Mercer had already disappeared through the private entrance with Andrew.
The restaurant staff stood around whispering.
Richard had ordered everyone back to work.
Marcus had locked himself in the kitchen office.
And Nia had spent the rest of her shift trying to pretend her life had not just been turned upside down.
At 11:48 p.m., Richard cornered her near the lockers.
“You’re not telling anyone what happened.”
Nia stared at him.
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me.”
“Mr. Mercer just asked me about my grandmother in front of half the restaurant.”
“Exactly. And he has people watching everything.”
“That’s supposed to make me feel better?”
Richard lowered his voice.
“You need this job.”
The words hit exactly where he intended.
Nia went quiet.
“You know about my brother?”
“I know everybody’s paperwork.”
There was a warning in his eyes.
“Keep your mouth shut.”
Nia changed in silence.
She left through the back door at midnight.
A black sedan waited across the street.
For a second, she assumed it was Calvin.
Then the driver stepped out.
It was Andrew Collins.
“Nia.”
She stopped.
“I need to talk to you.”
She almost laughed.
“Your boss already talked enough for one night.”
Andrew came closer.
“I’m trying to protect you.”
“From what?”
He hesitated.
“That’s what I’m trying to find out.”
She studied him.
“Then why did you look terrified when Mr. Mercer said my grandmother’s name?”
Andrew looked toward the street.
“Because I remember Loretta.”
Nia stiffened.
“You knew her too?”
“I met her once.”
“When?”
“1991.”
Nia folded her arms.
“What happened?”
Andrew exhaled.
“Calvin was seventeen. His father had just died. His mother was in a psychiatric hospital. There were debts everywhere.”
Nia listened.
“Calvin ran away?”
“He didn't exactly run away. He was thrown out.”
She frowned.
“What?”
“His uncle took control of the house. Calvin discovered that his father had left behind debt and a lawsuit. He was blamed for problems he didn’t cause.”
“So where did Loretta fit in?”
“She worked at a hotel kitchen near the river. She found him sleeping behind the dumpsters.”
Nia remembered the photograph.
“He was hungry.”
“Starving.”
Andrew looked ashamed.
“Loretta fed him.”
“How long?”
“Several months.”
“And then?”
“He left Chicago.”
“Why?”
Andrew hesitated.
“Because somebody threatened Loretta.”
Nia’s blood ran cold.
“Who?”
“We never proved it.”
“Who?”
Andrew looked directly at her.
“Calvin’s uncle.”
Nia shook her head.
“Then why would Calvin become successful working with the same family?”
“Because Calvin didn't know the whole truth.”
That answer made no sense.
“He built Mercer Urban with his uncle.”
“No,” Andrew said. “His uncle took credit for the first years. Calvin built the company later.”
Nia stared at him.
“What are you not telling me?”
Andrew reached into his coat.
He pulled out an old photograph.
Loretta stood outside a small diner.
Beside her was a seventeen-year-old Calvin.
Behind them stood a younger Andrew.
Nia's heartbeat accelerated.
“You were there.”
“Yes.”
“Why did you never tell him?”
“I tried.”
“And?”
“He wouldn't listen.”
“Why?”
Andrew looked away.
“Because by then he believed Loretta had betrayed him.”
Nia felt a wave of anger.
“My grandmother would never betray anyone.”
“I know.”
“Then why did he believe it?”
“Because someone forged a letter.”
“What letter?”
“A letter claiming Loretta took money to tell reporters where Calvin was hiding.”
Nia went still.
“And he believed it?”
“He was seventeen. Hungry. Terrified. Angry.”
“And nobody corrected him?”
“I tried.”
“But?”
“Calvin's uncle had power. Lawyers. Money.”
Nia thought about the recipe book.
“Is that why he asked about it?”
Andrew nodded.
“Loretta kept records.”
“What kind?”
“Everything.”
He looked at Nia.
“Debts. Names. Payments. Conversations.”
Nia remembered her grandmother writing constantly.
Recipes on one page.
Numbers on another.
Names in the margins.
She had always assumed it was bookkeeping.
Now she wasn’t sure.
“Where did your grandmother keep it?”
“In her kitchen.”
“Do you still have the original book?”
“Yes.”
Andrew’s expression changed.
“Then you're in danger.”
Nia stepped back.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that if the people who forged that letter discover what’s in that book, they'll do whatever they can to get it.”
Nia glanced behind her.
A dark SUV had stopped at the corner.
The windows were tinted.
Andrew noticed.
“Get in the car.”
“No.”
“Nia.”
“I don't know you.”
“You don't need to know me. You need to get home safely.”
The SUV started moving.
Andrew's face hardened.
“Now.”
Nia got in.
The SUV followed.
For six blocks.
Then it vanished.
Andrew dropped her outside her apartment.
He handed her the photograph.
“Don't tell Calvin I gave you this.”
“Why?”
“Because I don't know who is loyal to him anymore.”
Nia stared at the photograph.
“Why do you trust me?”
Andrew gave her a sad smile.
“Because Loretta did.”
At home, Denise was asleep.
Jamal sat at the kitchen table with textbooks open.
“You're late.”
Nia dropped her bag.
“I know.”
“You okay?”
She looked at her brother.
“No.”
Jamal straightened.
“What happened?”
Nia almost told him.
Instead she said, “Something strange happened at work.”
Jamal laughed.
“You're always saying strange things happen at work.”
“This one involved a billionaire.”
He stopped laughing.
“What kind?”
“Calvin Mercer.”
Jamal’s eyes widened.
“You met him?”
Nia sat down.
“He knows Grandma.”
Silence.
Jamal stared at her.
“How?”
“I don't know yet.”
Then Nia pulled out the photograph.
Jamal picked it up.
His eyebrows lifted.
“Who’s that?”
“Grandma.”
“And this guy?”
“Calvin Mercer.”
Jamal studied him.
“He looks familiar.”
“To you?”
“No. To something I've seen.”
Nia stared.
“Where?”
Jamal shook his head.
“I don't remember.”
She went to the hallway closet.
The recipe book was beneath a box of old winter clothes.
She brought it to the table.
The cover was cracked brown leather.
A faded flower was stamped into the front.
Nia opened it.
Recipes filled the first pages.
Chicken stew.
Sweet potato pie.
Collard greens.
Cornbread.
But halfway through, the handwriting changed.
There were dates.
Addresses.
Initials.
Names.
Then one page made Nia stop.
October.
Underneath:
Caleb.
Nia's hands trembled.
The next line read:
He thinks nobody can find him.
The next:
He says his father did not die by accident.
Nia looked at Jamal.
“Read this.”
He did.
Then another line.
Someone is using the company to hide money.
Nia's heart pounded.
She turned the page.
Half the paper had been torn out.
At the bottom remained one sentence:
If anything happens to me, tell Caleb the truth about his father.
Nia closed the book.
Jamal stared.
“What did Grandma know?”
“I don't know.”
A sound came from the front door.
Both froze.
Three knocks.
Slow.
Deliberate.
Jamal stood.
“Were you expecting someone?”
“No.”
The knocking came again.
Nia slid the recipe book beneath her sweater.
She approached the door.
“Who is it?”
No answer.
Then a man's voice.
“Miss Brooks?”
She looked through the peephole.
A man stood in the hallway.
Dark coat.
Umbrella.
No identification.
Nia stepped back.
“Who are you?”
“I need to speak with you.”
“About what?”
“The book.”
Nia’s blood turned cold.
Jamal looked at her.
“How does he know about the book?”
The man knocked again.
“You should give it to me.”
Nia's hand went to her phone.
She called 911.
The man heard.
“Don't.”
His voice changed.
“You have no idea what your grandmother left behind.”
Then he walked away.
Nia waited.
She listened to his footsteps disappear.
Jamal came closer.
“Who was that?”
Nia stared at the door.
“I don't know.”
Her phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
She answered without speaking.
Calvin Mercer’s voice came through.
“You need to leave the apartment.”
Nia froze.
“How did you get my number?”
“That doesn't matter.”
“It matters to me.”
“Nia, listen to me.”
His voice was different from the restaurant.
Not commanding.
Urgent.
“Take your brother and your mother. Leave immediately.”
She looked at Jamal.
“Why?”
“Because somebody knows you have the book.”
Nia’s stomach dropped.
“You knew?”
“I suspected.”
“Why?”
“Because the same thing happened to me thirty years ago.”
There was a pause.
May you like
Then Calvin said the words that changed everything.
“The last person who came looking for that book was my father’s murderer.”
