Chapter 10 - The Brother Nobody Mentioned
Peter Rousseau had been twenty-three when he disappeared.
Thomas was twenty-five.
The brothers had grown up in a working-class neighborhood where every family knew everyone else's business.
Thomas was quiet.
Responsible.
The kind of man who repaired broken bicycles for neighborhood children without expecting payment.
Peter was different.
Charming.
Restless.
Always looking for a shortcut.
He could talk his way into almost any opportunity.
And sometimes, out of almost any consequence.
When Peter was accused of stealing money from a local children's home, Thomas had defended him.
At first.
Then investigators discovered forged invoices.
Missing donations.
And payments to companies that didn't exist.
Peter disappeared before charges could be filed.
The family told people he had died in an accident.
Thomas never spoke about him again.
Until fifteen years earlier.
Madeleine remembered the day clearly now.
Thomas had come home from the warehouse pale and furious.
He sat at the kitchen table for nearly an hour without speaking.
Finally, he said something she had never forgotten.
“Peter's back.”
Madeleine had stared at him.
“Your brother?”
Thomas nodded.
“He's working with Harlan.”
She remembered feeling frightened.
Not because Peter was dangerous.
But because Thomas looked as though he had seen a ghost.
“He's doing the same thing again,” Thomas had said.
“What thing?”
“Stealing from children.”
Madeleine reached for Laurent's hand.
“I begged your father to leave it alone.”
Laurent looked at her.
“Why?”
“Because Peter had already ruined enough lives.”
“What did Dad say?”
Madeleine smiled sadly.
“He said children didn't deserve to pay for his brother's mistakes.”
Laurent looked down.
For the first time, he understood that his father's generosity and his mother's sacrifice had come from the same place.
Neither could bear to see vulnerable people abandoned.
But Thomas had tried to expose wrongdoing.
Madeleine had tried to repair its consequences.
And both had paid dearly.
Later that afternoon, Agent Sloan returned with new information.
The photograph had been authenticated as an original print, but the handwritten date was not reliable.
The image itself had likely been taken months before Thomas's death.
The man in the photograph was almost certainly Peter Rousseau.
And Peter had used several aliases over the years.
One of them was Paul Mercer.
Daniel went still.
“Mercer?”
Sloan nodded.
“Richard Mercer's father used that name in several financial records.”
Adrien leaned forward.
“Are you saying Peter Rousseau was connected to Richard's family?”
“Possibly through business arrangements. We're still establishing the relationships.”
Marc frowned.
“Then Richard may have known about the fraud long before our mother died.”
Sloan nodded.
“Yes.”
Daniel stared at the table.
His childhood had been shaped by Richard's cruelty.
Now he was learning that the man had been connected to a larger scheme involving stolen charitable funds.
And possibly missing children.
“Where is Peter?” Daniel asked.
Sloan hesitated.
“We believe he's alive.”
Laurent stood.
“Where?”
“We traced an old property purchase to a man using one of his aliases.”
“Where?”
Sloan looked at him.
“About forty miles from here.”
Laurent reached for his coat.
But Sloan raised a hand.
“There's something you need to know first.”
She placed a recent surveillance photograph on the table.
It showed an elderly man leaving a medical clinic.
His hair was white.
His shoulders stooped.
But the resemblance to Thomas was unmistakable.
Laurent stared.
Then noticed the person walking beside him.
A younger man.
Dark hair.
A narrow scar above his left eyebrow.
Elijah Mercer.
May you like
And beneath the photograph was a date.
Yesterday.
