People who could be embarrassed.
People who were afraid of police.
Bennett had seen some of it.
Ignored more.
Participated once.
Maybe twice.
He stopped.
The investigator said, “How many?”
Bennett stared at the table.
“Four.”
“Four what?”
“Times I helped.”
The admission broke something open.
After that, the words came faster.
Mercer maintained a second phone.
A prepaid one.
He sometimes met a tow operator named Dale Finch behind an abandoned feed warehouse outside town.
Vehicles were impounded.
Property disappeared.
Some owners paid cash to retrieve cars without paperwork.
Others never got the cars back.
The investigator took notes.
“Why did Mercer stop Carter today?”
Bennett’s breathing changed.
“I don’t know.”
“That’s not true.”
Bennett looked up.
“He saw the plate.”
“And?”
“He got weird.”
“How?”
“Quiet.”
Bennett swallowed.
“He said, ‘Finally.’”
The investigator stopped writing.
“What exactly did he say?”
Bennett looked toward the mirrored glass.
“He typed the plate in. Read something on the screen. Then he said, ‘Finally.’”
“Did he explain?”
“No.”
“Anything else?”
“He told me to keep my mouth shut.”
“About what?”
Bennett’s eyes filled with fear.
“About the watch.”
The investigator leaned forward.
“Why the watch?”
“I don’t know.”
“He took it because he liked it?”
Bennett shook his head.
“No.”
A long silence followed.
Then Bennett said the sentence that sent three investigators running from the room.
“He knew Ray Carter would have it.”
At 4:08 p.m., Mara walked into the conference room where Ray had been waiting.
She shut the door.
Ray knew from her face.
“What?”
“We need to examine your watch.”
“It’s evidence already.”
“Not for fingerprints.”
Ray looked at her.
“For what?”
Mara sat down.
“Bennett says Mercer was looking for it.”
Ray felt something cold move through him.
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“Maybe not yet.”
“I’ve worn that watch for forty years.”
“Exactly.”
Ray looked toward the evidence bag on the table.
The silver watch sat under fluorescent light.
He remembered Daniel handing it to him.
A cardboard box.
A cheap red ribbon.
Ray had laughed.
You spend money on this?
Daniel had rolled his eyes.
Dad, for once in your life, can you just say thank you?
Ray had put it on.
He had almost never taken it off.
Not during surgeries.
Not during the funeral.
Not when his wife Margaret died twelve years later.
Not when he packed Daniel’s uniform into a cedar chest.
Mara said gently, “Who repaired the band?”
“Me.”
“Both times?”
“Yes.”
“Ever open the back?”
“No.”
“Battery replacement?”
“It’s mechanical.”
Mara’s eyes sharpened.
“Mechanical?”
“Manual wind.”
She looked at the watch.
Then back at Ray.
“Daniel knew you liked old watches?”
“He knew I hated batteries.”
For the first time, Mara smiled.
“That sounds like you.”
The smile vanished quickly.
“We’re having a specialist inspect it.”
Ray’s hand closed around the edge of the table.
“Don’t damage it.”
“We won’t.”
“You promise?”
Mara paused.
Then nodded.
“I promise.”
Two hours later, the specialist called her downstairs.
Ray went too.
The evidence lab occupied the basement of the building.
The technician was a small man with thick glasses and the posture of someone who had spent his life leaning over tiny objects.
The watch lay beneath a magnifying lamp.
The back plate had been removed.
Ray stopped several feet away.
The technician looked up.
“Mr. Carter?”
“Yes.”
“You said this has never been serviced professionally?”
“Not since I got it.”
The technician glanced at Mara.
Then rotated the lamp.
Inside the watch, beneath the movement, was a thin circular metal plate that did not belong there.
The technician lifted it with tweezers.
Underneath was a recessed cavity.
And inside the cavity was a tiny black object.
Smaller than a fingernail.
Ray stared.
“What is that?”
The technician answered.
“Microfilm.”
Ray laughed once.
Not because anything was funny.
“Microfilm?”
“Very small photographic film. Common for covert document storage decades ago.”
Mara stepped closer.
“Can you read it?”
“We can enlarge it.”
Ray could barely hear them anymore.
Daniel.
The watch.
Forty years.
His son had hidden something inside it.
Something Mercer had been looking for.
The technician placed the film into a scanner.
The first enlarged image appeared.
A ledger page.
Numbers.
Dates.
Initials.
Vehicle plates.
Dollar amounts.
Mara stopped breathing for a moment.
The second image appeared.
A photograph.
Several men standing behind the county police station in 1997.
Ray recognized Nolan Pierce immediately.
Beside him was the county sheriff from that era.
A tow yard owner.
A local judge.
And a fourth man whose face Ray did not know.
The third image appeared.
A handwritten note.
Daniel’s handwriting.
Ray leaned toward the monitor.
His knees almost failed him.
IF ANYTHING HAPPENS TO ME, 742 IS NOT THE NUMBER TO FOLLOW. IT IS THE NUMBER THEY WILL TRY TO USE.
Ray gripped the edge of the desk.
Mara whispered, “Jesus.”
The technician enlarged the bottom.
More writing.
THE WATCH IS FOR DAD. HE WILL KEEP IT.
Ray closed his eyes.
The room disappeared.
For twenty-nine years, he had carried his son’s evidence on his wrist.
Through funerals.
Christmas mornings.
Hospital rooms.
Lonely dinners.
Every mile driven in the Mustang.
Daniel had known.
He had known Ray would never throw it away.
He had known his father better than anyone.
Mara touched Ray’s shoulder.
He opened his eyes.
“There’s another frame,” the technician said.
The final image loaded.
A typewritten list.
At the top were seven names.
Nolan Pierce was first.
Three were dead.
Two had moved out of state.
One was in federal prison on unrelated fraud charges.
The seventh name made Chief Ward sit down when she saw it thirty minutes later.
Thomas Mercer.
Cole Mercer’s father.
Thomas Mercer had been dead for six years.
Heart attack at sixty-eight.
He had spent twenty-seven years as a county deputy before retiring.
His son Cole joined the police department three months later.
Mara gathered everyone into the conference room.
“Thomas Mercer was assigned evidence transport in 1997.”
Ray stared at the name.
“Was he there the night Daniel died?”
Captain Ruiz checked the file.
“No record.”
“Which means?”
“Nothing by itself.”
Mara shook her head.
“Daniel put him on the list.”
Chief Ward folded her arms.
“And Cole knew about the watch.”
Ray looked at the photograph again.
“His father told him.”
“Likely.”
“Then why wait until now?”
No one had an answer.
Until Ruiz’s phone rang.
He listened.
His face changed.
“When?”
Another pause.
“Secure the property. Nobody enters until the warrant team arrives.”
He hung up.
Mara looked at him.
“What?”
“Cole Mercer’s father left him a storage unit.”
Ray frowned.
Ruiz continued.
“Cole stopped paying for it three weeks ago. Facility manager was preparing it for auction.”
Mara stood.
“Where?”
“Westlake Industrial Storage.”
Ray pushed himself upright.
Mara pointed at him.
“No.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You were about to.”
“It’s my son.”
“It’s an active investigation.”
“For twenty-nine years it was my dead son.”
Her face softened.
But only slightly.
“Ray.”
He met her eyes.
“I have waited twenty-nine years.”