Chapter 9 - THE WOMAN AT UNION STATION
Willow did not go alone.
Technically.
Helena waited inside a coffee shop across the concourse.
Michael remained two blocks away in his truck.
Willow sat beneath the enormous arched ceiling of Union Station at four that afternoon.
Thousands of footsteps echoed around her.
At 4:07, a woman in a camel coat approached.
She was perhaps seventy.
Elegant.
Silver hair.
Dark sunglasses.
She sat beside Willow without looking at her.
“You look like Evelyn.”
Willow’s throat tightened.
“Who are you?”
The woman removed her glasses.
“My name is Margaret Vale.”
Willow knew the name.
Vale Banking Group.
Old Chicago money.
Margaret had disappeared from society pages years earlier.
“You sent the video?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I’ve spent thirty years waiting for Richard Sterling to become careless.”
Willow studied her.
“You said you attended his first wedding.”
Margaret smiled sadly.
“I was the bride.”
Willow froze.
“That’s impossible.”
“Officially.”
Margaret opened her purse.
She removed a faded marriage certificate.
Richard Sterling.
Margaret Anne Vale.
1984.
Willow stared.
“Marion married Richard in 1989.”
“Yes.”
“Were you divorced?”
Margaret’s expression sharpened.
“Eventually.”
“What happened?”
“Richard married money.”
She folded her hands.
“My father financed Nathaniel Sterling’s early expansion.”
“Richard married me because he wanted access.”
“When he obtained what he needed, he found Marion.”
Willow thought of Lucas approaching her gallery.
History repeating itself.
Margaret continued.
“Your father knows parts of this.”
“What parts?”
“He knows Richard used women strategically.”
“He does not know everything.”
“Do you know Evelyn?”
Margaret’s eyes softened.
“Yes.”
“How?”
“She came to me three weeks before she disappeared.”
Willow leaned closer.
“What did she say?”
“That Richard stole Mercer Development.”
“That she had proof.”
“That she had made the mistake of trusting someone inside the Sterling family.”
“Nathaniel?”
Margaret shook her head.
“Lucas.”
Willow’s heart stopped.
“That makes no sense.”
“Lucas was a child.”
“Not Lucas Sterling.”
Margaret opened her purse again.
She removed a photograph of three young men standing beside a sailboat.
Richard.
A younger Nathaniel.
And another man.
Under the third man, someone had written.
LUCAS MERCER.
Willow stared.
“My husband was named after him?”
“Yes.”
“Who was he?”
Margaret’s voice lowered.
“Evelyn’s older brother.”
Willow felt the world tilt.
“My uncle?”
“Yes.”
“What happened to him?”
Margaret looked toward the station clock.
“He died in 1996.”
“How?”
“Officially, boating accident.”
“Unofficially?”
Margaret looked directly at Willow.
“He was Richard Sterling’s best friend.”
“And the rightful heir to Mercer Development.”
Willow understood slowly.
“If Lucas Mercer died, Evelyn inherited.”
“Yes.”
“And then Richard stole the company.”
“Yes.”
Willow looked down at the picture.
“Why name his son after the man whose company he stole?”
Margaret’s face became grim.
“Because guilt is strange.”
“Or because Richard believed naming his son Lucas would make people forget the first Lucas ever existed.”
Willow swallowed.
“Did Richard kill him?”
“I cannot prove it.”
“Did Evelyn think he did?”
Margaret nodded.
“Yes.”
Willow sat back.
Margaret reached into her purse one last time.
This time she removed a key.
A small brass key attached to a metal tag.
M-417.
“Evelyn gave me this.”
“What does it open?”
“She never told me.”
“Why give it to me now?”
Margaret placed it in Willow’s palm.
“Because yesterday morning I received a phone call from Briarwood.”
Willow’s pulse jumped.
“Nathaniel?”
“No.”
“A nurse.”
“What did she say?”
Margaret leaned closer.
“Nathaniel Sterling has been asking for Evelyn’s daughter.”
“And he keeps saying the same thing.”
Willow whispered.
“What?”
May you like
Margaret answered.
“Tell Willow her husband is not Richard Sterling’s son.”
