Chapter 2 - My Brother’s AlibiI watched the twelve seconds again.
Then again.
On the fourth viewing, Officer Wallace stopped asking whether I was certain.
Michael’s face was never fully visible, but I knew the way my brother walked.
I knew the slight drop in his left shoulder from a motorcycle accident when he was twenty-seven.
I knew the dark charcoal coat because he wore it every winter.
Most of all, I knew that watch.
I had given it to him the year our father died.
Michael had been thirty-two and broke after a failed construction business. I had just returned from deployment. We sat together on Dad’s back porch drinking terrible coffee, and Michael told me he felt like the family disappointment.
I gave him Dad’s watch.
“Then build something worth being proud of,” I told him.
He had hugged me.
Now that watch was on the wrist of the last person recorded entering Hartwell Science Building with my injured daughter.
“Could anyone else have the watch?” Wallace asked.
“No.”
“Could your brother have loaned it to someone?”
“He doesn’t loan that watch.”
Wallace nodded carefully.
“Where does he live?”
“Richmond.”
“That’s about two hours away.”
“He told me he was there tonight.”
“How recently did he tell you?”
I pulled out my phone.
At 8:14 that evening, Michael had texted our family group chat.
Wish I could make Lily’s presentation tomorrow. Buried in invoices down here. Tell my favorite niece Uncle Mike owes her dinner.
Three hours later, Lily had been carried into an ambulance.
“Do not call him yet,” Wallace said.
I almost laughed.
“You think I need that advice?”
“Mr. Mercer—”
“I spent two decades gathering intelligence before operations. I know what happens when you alert a suspect before you know what you have.”
The word suspect sounded impossible beside my brother’s name.
Still, I didn’t call him.
Detective Elena Ruiz from the city police department arrived twenty minutes later.
Unlike Wallace, she didn’t appear intimidated by my uniform.
She was in her forties, compact, calm, with dark hair pulled into a knot.
She shook my hand.
“I understand you recognized someone in the video.”
“My brother.”
“You’re certain?”
“Yes.”
“Certain enough that you would say so under oath?”
That stopped me.
Ruiz watched my face.
“Yes,” I finally said.
“All right.”
She pulled out a chair.
“Then tell me everything you know about your brother’s relationship with Lily.”
“Michael adored her.”
“Any recent problems?”
“None I knew about.”
“Did they communicate privately?”
“She’s nineteen. I don’t monitor her phone.”
“Does your brother work for Bradley University?”
“No.”
“Have business there?”
“Not that I know.”
“What does he do?”
“Owns Mercer Strategic Supply.”
Her pen stopped.
“What does the company supply?”
“Laboratory and industrial equipment.”
“To universities?”
“Among other customers.”
Ruiz wrote something down.
“Does Bradley University buy from him?”
“I don’t know.”
That answer suddenly embarrassed me.
Michael and I talked at least twice a month.
Football.
Our mother.
Lily.
Sometimes his business.
But I had never asked who his largest clients were.
Ruiz continued.
“What was Lily studying?”
“Biochemistry.”
That got her attention.
“What building was she attacked in?”
I knew immediately where she was going.
“Hartwell Science Building.”
“Did she work in a lab?”
“Yes.”
“What kind?”
“Some undergraduate research project. Drug delivery systems, maybe. I’m not sure.”
Ruiz put down her pen.
“When she wakes fully, I’ll need to talk to her.”
“She can’t speak.”
“We’ll find another way.”
At 2:15 a.m., Lily underwent surgery.
For the next four hours I sat in a hard plastic chair beneath fluorescent lights and tried not to destroy everything I still believed about my brother.
Our mother called.
I told her Lily had been hurt but not how.
She cried.
Michael texted at 3:02.
Mom says Lily is in the hospital. What happened???
I stared at the message.
Three question marks.
Michael always used too many question marks.
I typed:
She was attacked on campus.
The typing bubble appeared instantly.
Oh my God. Is she okay?
Surgery.
Do police know who did it?
I looked toward Ruiz, who was sitting across the waiting room drinking vending-machine coffee.
I typed:
Not yet.
Michael replied:
I’m driving up first thing in the morning.
I showed Ruiz.
“Good,” she said.
“You want him here?”
“I want to see what he does when he thinks we don’t know.”
At 6:38, the surgeon came out.
“Mr. Mercer?”
I stood so quickly my knee hit the table.
“She did well.”
The room tilted.
“Her jaw has been stabilized. We repaired several fractures with plates and screws. She also has a fractured orbital bone, three broken ribs, and significant soft-tissue injuries.”
“Will she recover?”
“We expect so.”
Expect.
The word wasn’t enough, but it was something.
“Can I see her?”
“In a little while.”
He started to leave.
“Doctor.”
He turned.
“Could one person have done this?”
His face changed.
“I can’t determine exactly what happened.”
“But?”
“But the pattern of injury suggests repeated trauma.”
Someone hadn’t hit Lily once.
They had kept going.
At 8:11, I entered her room.
Her eyes opened.
I squeezed her hand.
“You’re safe.”
She blinked.
Detective Ruiz stood near the door.
“Lily,” I said, “the detective needs to ask you something. You don’t have to answer if you’re tired.”
Lily looked at Ruiz.
Ruiz held up a notepad.
“Can you write?”
Lily slowly nodded.
The nurse raised the bed.
Ruiz handed her the pad.
“Do you know who hurt you?”
Lily’s hand trembled.
She wrote one word.
YES.
My heartbeat surged.
Ruiz crouched beside her.
“Can you write the person’s name?”
Lily stared at the paper.
Her eyes filled with tears.
Then she wrote:
NOT ONE.
Ruiz and I looked at each other.
“More than one person?” Ruiz asked.
Lily nodded.
“How many?”
Lily wrote:
3.
I felt something inside me harden.
Ruiz continued gently.
“Was your uncle Michael there?”
Lily’s hand froze.
Her good eye snapped toward me.
That reaction hurt worse than any answer.
She started breathing faster.
The heart monitor accelerated.
“Lily,” I whispered.
She grabbed my wrist.
Then she wrote furiously.
HE TRIED TO HELP.
I read it twice.
Michael had been there.
But Lily was saying he wasn’t the attacker.
Ruiz pointed at the page.
“Who was he trying to help?”
Lily wrote:
ME.
Then another line.
THEY FOUND OUT.
Ruiz leaned closer.
“Found out what?”
Lily stared toward the doorway as though afraid someone might be listening.
Slowly, painfully, she wrote:
ABOUT THE TRIAL.
“What trial?” I asked.
She underlined the word twice.
Ruiz looked at me.
“Did you know she was involved in a trial?”
“No.”
Lily shook her head.
Not a court trial.
She turned to a clean page.
Her hand barely moved now.
RESEARCH TRIAL.
Then:
DATA FAKE.
And underneath:
PROF KNEW.
A nurse entered when Lily’s monitor alarmed.
“That’s enough.”
Ruiz backed away.
I kissed Lily’s forehead.
“I’m staying right here.”
She closed her eyes.
At 9:03, Michael walked into the hospital.
He wore jeans and the charcoal coat.
His face was pale.
He rushed toward me.
“Daniel, where is she?”
I didn’t answer.
Instead, I looked at his left wrist.
No watch.
“Where’s Dad’s watch?”
Michael stopped.
His eyes found Ruiz standing behind me.
Everything in his expression changed.
“Daniel.”
“Where is it?”
He swallowed.
“I lost it.”
“When?”
“Last week.”
“Try again.”
Michael looked around the hallway.
Then he whispered five words that changed the investigation.
“I was inside that building.”
Ruiz stepped forward.
“Mr. Mercer, I need you to come with me.”
Michael didn’t move.
“I’ll talk,” he said.
“But not here.”
“Why?”
He looked toward Lily’s room.
“Because whoever did this to her thinks they finished the job.”
Cold moved through me.
“What are you talking about?”
Michael leaned toward me.
“They weren’t trying to scare Lily.”
May you like
He lowered his voice.
“They were trying to find what she took.”
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