Sophie followed her mother into the empty pool house and locked the door behind them.
Outside, the party continued in confused fragments. Music had stopped. Guests were whispering. Grant was trying to explain something to people who had not asked him to explain anything.
Inside, Sophie faced Eleanor across a row of white wicker chairs.
“You had five years to tell me you knew where Ava’s bag was.”
“I didn’t know.”
“You just said you found it three weeks ago.”
“I found where it had been hidden.”
Sophie laughed once, without humor. “That sounds like something people say right before they lie.”
Eleanor accepted the blow.
“The bag in the fire came from a resale shop in Boston,” she said. “Same model. Same color. Same year.”
“Why?”
“Because three weeks ago someone broke into my apartment and searched every closet without taking jewelry, cash, or electronics.”
Sophie’s anger sharpened into attention.
“What were they looking for?”
“Ava’s bag.”
Eleanor reached into her coat and removed a small brass key on a faded blue ribbon.
Sophie recognized the ribbon immediately. Ava used to tie blue ribbon around birthday gifts because she could never find tape.
“Where did you get that?”
“In a box of your father’s things. Behind the lining.”
Their father, Thomas Mercer, had died eleven months earlier after a stroke. Sophie had assumed his estate had been fully inventoried.
Eleanor placed the key in Sophie’s palm.
“Your father knew more about Ava’s last week than he admitted.”
The room seemed to narrow.
“Dad told me she was upset. That’s all.”
“He told all of us what was easiest to survive.”
Sophie closed her fingers around the key.
“What does it open?”
“A locker at the old Mercer boathouse.”
The boathouse sat on the north edge of the property, unused since the family sold most of the lakefront land. Ava had spent entire summers there as a teenager.
Sophie’s phone buzzed.
Grant.
Where are you?
Then another message.
Your mom is trying to blow up your birthday. Don’t let her.
Eleanor watched Sophie read it.
“Did he know Ava had the bag the night she died?”
“Everyone did.”
“Did he know she had been investigating the Mercer Children’s Fund?”
Sophie looked up.
That was a sentence no one in the family had spoken aloud for five years.
Ava had worked in internal compliance at Mercer Holdings. Two months before her death, she told Sophie she had found “money moving in circles.” Sophie had dismissed it as office drama.
Three days later, Ava stopped answering work calls.
Two weeks after that, she was dead.
Sophie’s throat tightened.
“Why are you telling me this now?”
“Because your father left me a letter.”
Eleanor unfolded a photocopy from her pocket.
Thomas’s handwriting was unmistakable.
If anything happens to me before I tell Sophie the truth, give her the key. Do not give it to Grant. Do not give it to David. Let her decide what to do with Ava’s proof.
David was Thomas’s younger brother and Mercer Holdings’ chief financial officer.
Grant had been David’s protégé before he became Sophie’s fiancé.
Sophie read the note twice.
Then she looked toward the pool-house windows.
Grant was walking across the lawn toward them.
Fast.
Eleanor took the letter back.
“You asked why I burned the fake bag in front of everyone,” she said. “I needed to see who would panic.”
Grant reached the door and tried the handle.
“Sophie?”
He knocked once.
Then harder.
“Sophie, open the door.”
Eleanor’s voice dropped.
“Do not tell him about the key.”
Outside, Grant stopped knocking.
A moment later, Sophie heard him make a phone call.
“David,” he whispered. “She knows.”