Chapter 4 - The Ghost in the Machine
I stared at the embossed gold crest on the heavy cream cardstock until the letters seemed to blur beneath the yellow glare of the overhead bulb.
The Sterling Corporation.
My mind raced through the interlocking webs of power, money, and blood that governed Boston’s elite. Richard Sterling was the patriarch of the Sterling family—a shipping and real estate titan whose holdings spanned three continents, whose daughter was married to the mayor, and whose commercial logistics network intersected directly with half the import-export terminals I controlled along the harbor.
Sterling and my father had built half the modern waterfront together. They sat on the same charitable boards, drank the same twenty-year scotch at the private club on Beacon Hill, and publicly toasted each other’s health at every major civic gala.
And yet, Elena’s dying handwriting pointed directly at them.
It’s coming from inside.
“Where did she get this?” I asked, my voice dangerously low, my eyes lifting from the card to meet Maeve’s steady gaze.
“She pulled it out of her coat pocket just before she lost consciousness in the alley,” Maeve said, her voice dropping to a harsh whisper. “She told me that if anything happened to her or Michael, I should take the baby to that address if I ever wanted him to grow up past his first birthday. But she warned me... she said the men who killed them weren't street thugs. They wore custom suits. They sat in glass towers.”
I stood up so abruptly the wooden chair scraped loudly against the concrete floor.
Ethan stepped forward, reading the tension in my shoulders. “Boss? What is it?”
“Get the car ready,” I said, sliding the business card carefully into the inner pocket of my suit jacket. “We’re taking a ride.”
Maeve instantly panicked, pulling Noah tighter against her chest as she shifted backward on the narrow cot. “No! You’re not taking him anywhere! You said he stays safe here!”
“He is staying here,” I said, looking down at her. “Under armed guard. Mrs. Higgins will bring you food, water, and anything else you need. But you and I are going to have a very long conversation about what you know, Miss Murphy—after I pay a visit to my dear friend Richard Sterling.”
“You can’t just walk into his building in the middle of the night!” Maeve protested, her voice rising. “He’s one of the most powerful men in the state! If he’s the one who ordered the hit on Michael and Elena, walking into his office is suicide!”
“Let me worry about Richard Sterling,” I said coldly.
I turned toward the door, my hand reaching for the steel handle, when Maeve’s voice stopped me cold.
“Mr. Mercer.”
I paused, looking back over my shoulder.
Maeve was sitting on the edge of the cot, the dim light catching the bruises on her face and the fierce, unyielding set of her jaw. She didn't look like a terrified tenant of a Dorchester slum anymore. She looked like a sentinel guarding a fortress.
“If you don't come back,” she said, her voice trembling slightly but carrying absolute resolve, “I’m taking Noah and walking out of here. I don't care how many men you have outside. I will find a way.”
I held her gaze for three seconds.
May you like
A faint, humorless ghost of a smile touched the corner of my mouth.
“If I don't come back, Miss Murphy,” I said quietly, “nobody in this house will stop you.”
