Chapter 13 - The Emerald
Maya remembered the pendant from college.
Clara and Marissa each wore one.
Not identical.
Complementary.
Clara once called them “two halves of a bad idea.”
At the time Maya assumed it was a joke.
Years later, after the charity collapsed, Clara stopped wearing hers.
“She told me it had a memory card inside,” Maya said.
Daniel stared.
“In 2010?”
“Tiny storage existed.”
“What was on it?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why didn’t you tell anyone?”
“Because I forgot until you said green stone.”
Police searched the cedar trunk under consent.
They found no emerald pendant.
But they found a receipt from a jeweler.
CUSTOM LOCKET MODIFICATION — DIGITAL INSERT.
Clara had apparently commissioned a hollow pendant designed to conceal a microSD card.
Why hide data inside jewelry?
Because Marissa had been searching Clara’s office.
The answer came from an old email recovered from Clara’s laptop backup.
She had written Maya but never sent it.
Rissa found the copied ledger in my apartment. She keeps thinking paper is the only thing I saved.
Daniel read the sentence repeatedly.
Marissa’s current claim that the necklace belonged to her mother now looked very different.
She believed the emerald might still be inside the Mercer house.
Ruiz denied the request for Marissa to retrieve it personally.
Her attorney demanded the pendant if located.
It was not located.
Then Lily remembered something.
“Mom’s sewing box.”
Daniel looked up.
“What?”
“When I was little, she let me play with ribbons. There was a green stone in the button compartment.”
They opened the old sewing cabinet.
Buttons.
Needles.
Thread.
No pendant.
Owen watched from the doorway.
“What are you looking for?”
“A necklace Mom had.”
“The green one?”
Everyone turned.
Daniel stared at him.
“You’ve seen it?”
Owen nodded.
“In my room.”
Daniel’s heart jumped.
“Show me.”
Owen opened a wooden treasure box filled with marbles, foreign coins, broken watch parts, and small objects children collect because adults overlook them.
At the bottom lay an emerald-colored pendant.
“I found it behind my dresser a long time ago.”
“When?”
“Before Marissa lived here.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Owen shrugged.
“It looked like treasure.”
Daniel laughed once, almost hysterically.
Ruiz collected it within the hour.
Inside was a microSD card.
The data was partially corrupted.
Enough remained.
Copies of Foundation for Tomorrow’s original ledger.
Payments to Marissa.
Transfers routed through accounts later associated with Gavin.
Most important was a folder of scanned letters.
One was from Marissa to Clara.
You think marrying Daniel Mercer makes you untouchable.
Another:
You don’t deserve the life you built with money that should have saved me.
And then:
If you tell him what happened, I’ll make sure he learns your part too.
Clara’s replies showed increasing resolve.
I was wrong to hide what you did.
I will tell Daniel myself.
That sentence was dated October 29, 2019.
Four days before her death.
Daniel sat in the station afterward unable to move.
Clara had intended to tell him.
She never had the chance.
Ruiz placed a cup of water near him.
“Daniel.”
He looked up.
“We may be approaching an indictment.”
“For murder?”
“I can’t promise that.”
“What else do you need?”
“Direct evidence connecting Marissa to the vehicle damage, or evidence establishing a plan.”
“What about her statement on the recording?”
“Powerful, but defense counsel will argue context.”
Daniel rubbed his eyes.
“There’s always another gap.”
“That’s how cases work.”
He hated that she was right.
Gavin remained in custody on financial charges.
His attorney began negotiating.
For cooperation, prosecutors wanted more than stories.
They wanted something verifiable.
Gavin finally gave them a name.
Samuel Ortiz.
A mechanic who had done occasional illegal favors for clients at a garage outside Kingston.
Ruiz found him.
Samuel denied knowing Marissa.
Then investigators showed him bank records.
A payment of $7,500 from a Holt-controlled entity three days before Clara’s death.
Samuel asked for a lawyer.
Two days later he changed his statement.
He admitted Gavin contacted him about disabling a vehicle.
Not destroying it.
Disabling it.
Gavin allegedly claimed the owner was staging an insurance dispute.
Samuel refused to describe details without immunity negotiations.
But he admitted he went to Lake Arden on November 2.
Daniel’s stomach twisted.
“Did he touch Clara’s car?”
Ruiz’s expression answered before her words.
“He says yes.”
Daniel closed his eyes.
“Then Gavin ordered it.”
“According to Samuel.”
“What about Marissa?”
“Samuel never met her.”
Daniel opened his eyes.
“So Gavin could have done it alone.”
“Possibly.”
“Why?”
“That’s the question.”
Then Ruiz slid a photocopy across the table.
A bank transfer from Marissa’s personal holding company to Gavin Holt.
$25,000.
Dated November 1, 2019.
Memo:
May you like
ARDEN RESOLUTION.
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