Chapter 34
The Mercer House — Outside Sylva
The Mercer place sat on twenty-five acres outside Sylva, where the road curved along the foothills and the mountains rose blue and quiet beyond the trees.
It wasn’t flashy.
A wide brick house with deep porches and big windows looking out across the property. The land showed years of steady work—flower beds edged with stone, tall oaks shading the long gravel drive that curved past a small pond before reaching the house.
Behind the house sat a swimming pool bordered by smooth flagstone and neat hedges, the water catching the late afternoon sun.
The house itself had been built nearly forty years ago.
David Mercer Sr. had built it for his wife with his own crew, back when the construction company was still a handful of trucks and a dream.
Inside the kitchen, Margaret Mercer—MiMi to her grandson—stood at the counter, slicing peaches into a bowl.
From the den, the sound of a baseball game drifted through the house.
Davie’s grandfather sat in his usual chair watching, though every few minutes he glanced out the back toward the pool.
“Boy’s still out there?” he called.
“Where else would he be?” Margaret said.
Outside, nine-year-old Davie Mercer Jr. threw a baseball against the old maple tree beside the pool.
The ball struck the trunk with a dull thump and bounced back across the grass.
Davie chased it, laughing to himself.
A cruiser rolled slowly up the gravel drive.
Davie stopped in the middle of the yard.
Then his face lit up.
“Uncle Danny!”
He tore across the grass at a dead run just as State Trooper Danny Mercer stepped out of the patrol car.
Danny barely had time to shut the door before Davie hit him full force.
“Well now.” Danny laughed, catching him easily and lifting him off the ground. “Where’s the fire?”
“You said you’d come watch me pitch!”
“I thought I was stopping by to say hello.”
Danny set him down, but Davie was already grabbing his hand and pulling.
“Come on!”
From the kitchen sink, Margaret watched them and smiled.
“Danny’s here,” she called. “Your son’s finally made it.”
Her husband leaned forward in his chair to see out the window.
“Boy nearly knocked him over.”
Out back, Davie took his place beside the old maple tree with exaggerated seriousness.
“Ready?” he called.
Danny folded his arms. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”
The ball came sailing toward him.
Danny caught it one-handed.
“Not bad.”
“PopPop says I’m getting faster.”
“PopPop says a lot of things.”
Davie grinned. “Throw it back!”
Danny tossed the ball toward the tree. Davie sprinted after it, laughing when it bounced wild across the grass.
For a moment, Danny just stood there.
Through the kitchen window, he could see his mother smiling at the scene, one hand still resting on the counter.
The kid had no idea how lucky he was.
Danny leaned his forearms against the roof of the cruiser and watched him run.
Damn shame Davie was growing up on photographs and stories instead of a mother.
He didn’t even remember Caroline now. Not really.
To him, MiMi was the one who packed his lunches, kissed his scraped knees, and made him pancakes on Saturday mornings.
David had dated here and there over the years—women who came around for a while, then drifted away again—but none of them had ever gotten close to Davie.
Still...
His nephew had grown up right here.
In the same house where Danny, David, and their sister had grown up.
On the same land their father had worked half his life to buy.
Danny glanced back toward the house.
Their dad had poured everything into this place when Mercer Construction finally started making real money.
Davie chased the ball again, this time digging it out from beneath a lawn chair.
Danny let himself stand there another second.
One thing about it...
They had all loved that child.
Every last one of them.
A pickup truck turned into the drive.
Davie saw it immediately.
“Dad!”
He took off running before the truck had fully stopped.
David Mercer climbed out just in time to catch him.
“Easy there,” David said with a laugh.
“You coming to my game Saturday?”
“Wouldn’t miss it.”
Danny walked over, the baseball still loose in his hand.
He nodded once. “Hey.”
“Hey.”
They stood side by side while Davie ran back toward the tree.
From the porch, Margaret called, “Supper’s almost ready if anybody’s staying!”
David looked toward the house and smiled faintly.
“Mama knows exactly how to trap a man.”
Then the smile faded.
“You see Vanished in the Valley today?”
“Hard not to.”
David pulled out his phone and held it up.
A local Facebook page filled the screen. Someone had taken a picture of him leaving Harper & Associates, not long after hiring Eleanor. She stood beside him on the courthouse steps, one hand on the railing, her expression cool and unreadable.
Defense Attorney Represents David Mercer
Below it, the comments were already rolling in.
@mountainmama84: she always defends guilty men
@truecrimejunkie: if she takes his case, she knows he did it
@justiceforcaroline: how much is he paying her to make Caroline disappear twice?
@sylvaspeaks: wonder what he thinks about his attorney dating the district attorney
David’s thumb hovered over that specific comment. His jaw set. “Is it true?” he asked, looking at Danny. “About her and Calloway?”
Danny didn't look away. “Doesn't matter if it is. What matters is if the jury thinks she’s throwing the fight to please her boyfriend.”
@blueridgewatch: she goes all in for her clients apparently
One post had been shared more than five thousand times.
@CarolineDeservedBetter: Funny how Eleanor Harper always seems to end up standing beside men when women disappear.
David locked the screen and shoved the phone back into his pocket.
“I thought this was all over.”
He rubbed the back of his neck.
Danny kept his voice even.
“Best thing you can do is keep quiet. No statements. No ‘setting the record straight.’ No interviews. Let your attorney do the talking.”
David looked at him. “What do you mean?”
“Exactly that,” Danny said, his voice dropping into the flat, clipped tone he used with suspects on the side of the highway. “The internet doesn't want the truth, David. They want a monster. Don't give them a reason to point the finger.”
Through the kitchen window, their father had gone still.
For a second, Danny held his gaze.
Something passed between them—tight, uneasy, impossible to name.
Then his father turned away first.
David followed Danny’s glance toward the house. Their parents were still standing at the window, watching Davie in the yard.
“Yeah,” he said quietly. “Yeah, I guess so.”
Then his attention drifted past his brother to the pool. The water lay flat and turquoise in the late light, but he barely seemed to see it. Instead, his focus caught on the far corner of the flagstone patio, lingering there a beat too long before he finally looked away.
Something shifted in his expression—gone so fast Danny almost thought he imagined it.
Not guilt.
Just something shuttered, tired, and impossible to read.
Danny tossed the baseball toward Davie.
“See you later, champ.”
Davie waved.
Danny climbed back into the cruiser and sat there for a moment before starting the engine.
Davie’s laughter drifted across the yard.
Then Danny backed down the drive and pulled away.
To anyone passing on the road, it looked like another Mercer evening—a father and son in the yard, grandparents at the window, the house glowing gold in the late sun.
The kind of picture people liked to believe meant nothing bad could happen here.