Chapter 10 - The Confession of Sloane Mercer
The federal holding facility was a grim place,
a concrete fortress designed to strip away any remaining dignity.
Sloane Mercer had spent forty-eight hours in a small,
shared cell,
and her fragile facade of wealth and class had completely collapsed.
When Arthur Vance entered the visiting room,
she looked like a ghost of her former self.
Her champagne gown had been replaced by a coarse orange jumpsuit,
her hair was tangled,
and her face was pale and hollow.
She sat at the metal table,
clutching her hands together as if to keep them from shaking.
"Have you come to help me?"
Sloane asked,
her voice hoarse and desperate as she looked at Arthur.
"No,
Miss Mercer,"
Arthur replied,
sitting across from her with a cold,
professional detachment.
"I have come to offer you a final opportunity to save yourself from spending the rest of your life in a maximum-security prison."
He opened his leather folder,
placing a fresh set of documents on the table.
"These are the bank records of your shell companies in Panama and Delaware.
We have traced over three million dollars of embezzled charity funds directly to your personal accounts.
But that is not the worst of it."
Arthur leaned forward,
his eyes locking onto hers with a sharp intensity.
"We are currently investigating the death of Julian Vale as a homicide.
We have proof that Preston Hart purchased a banned,
untraceable cardiac drug from Switzerland,
using funds that were funneled through your offshore accounts."
Sloane’s eyes went wide with a sudden,
blinding terror,
and she let out a choked gasp,
her hands flying to her mouth.
"No,"
she whispered,
shake her head violently.
"No,
that’s not true.
I didn't know anything about that.
I didn't hurt anyone."
"The law does not care what you knew,
Miss Mercer,"
Arthur warned coldly.
"The money used to purchase the drug came from your account.
Your name is on the registration documents for that shell company.
Unless you cooperate fully,
you will be charged as an accomplice to murder.
In this state,
that carries a sentence of life without the possibility of parole."
"I was just a pawn!"
she shrieked,
slamming her hands on the metal table,
tears spilling down her cheeks.
"Preston told me he needed the accounts for business.
He told me it was a tax shelter.
I didn't know he was going to hurt anyone!
I didn't even know Julian Vale!
He was already gone when I met Preston!"
"Then prove it,"
Arthur said,
sliding a recording device across the table.
"Tell us everything.
Tell us about the offshore accounts,
the cash transactions,
and the hidden drive Preston kept in his office."
Sloane stared at the recording device,
her breathing shallow and frantic.
She knew that she was trapped,
that her dreams of wealth and power had turned into a nightmare.
She had trusted Preston,
believing that he was her ticket to a luxurious life.
But he had used her as a shield,
leaving her to take the fall for his crimes.
"He has a safe deposit box,"
she whispered,
her voice trembling as she finally broke.
"In a private vault in New Jersey.
He keeps an encrypted flash drive there.
It contains all his financial records,
the emails with the Swiss doctor,
and the ledger of his transactions."
"How do we access it?"
Arthur asked,
his voice remaining calm and steady.
"He gave me a key,"
Sloane admitted,
reaching into her jumpsuit pocket and pulling out a small,
silver key.
"He told me to keep it safe,
just in case anything ever happened to him.
He said it was our insurance policy.
I didn't know what was on the drive,
I swear.
I just kept the key."
Arthur took the key,
placing it carefully in a plastic evidence bag.
"And the password for the drive?"
"It’s his first wife's name,"
Sloane said,
her voice cracking.
"The one who disappeared ten years ago.
Evelyn.
He always used her name for his private passwords."
Arthur’s expression darkened at the mention of the first wife,
a detail that added another layer of horror to Preston’s history.
"Thank you,
Miss Mercer,"
Arthur said,
standing up and closing his folder.
"Your cooperation will be noted.
The prosecutor will review your statement,
but you will remain in custody until the trial."
Sloane buried her face in her hands,
weeping hysterically as the guards came to lead her back to her cell.
She was completely broken,
a victim of her own greed and Preston’s ruthlessness.
She had wanted to be the queen of Manhattan,
but now she was just another inmate,
waiting for her sentence.
Arthur walked out of the visiting room,
feeling a sense of grim satisfaction.
He had the key,
and he had the password.
The final pieces of the puzzle were in our hands,
and Preston Hart’s fate was sealed.
He had spent his life playing a dangerous,
corrupt game,
but he had finally run out of moves.
The truth was about to come out,
and it would destroy him completely.
Arthur stepped out into the cold parking lot,
the wind biting at his face.
He immediately pulled out his phone and dialed my number.
"Caroline,"
he said,
when I answered.
"I have the key.
And I have the password."
"What is the password,
Arthur?"
I asked,
my voice coming through the line like ice.
"It is Evelyn,"
Arthur replied,
a heavy pause hanging between us.
Evelyn.
Preston's first wife,
the woman who had supposedly walked out on him and vanished without a trace.
I felt a cold shiver run down my spine.
Evelyn’s family had spent years searching for her,
but the case had eventually gone cold.
Now,
her name was the key to unlocking Preston's darkest secrets.
Was it possible that she hadn't left him at all?
Was it possible that she had discovered his true nature,
just like my father had,
and paid the ultimate price?
"We need to get that drive,
Arthur,"
I said,
my voice trembling slightly with a mixture of fear and determination.
"We need to find out what really happened to Evelyn.
If he killed her too,
he can never be allowed to see the light of day again."
"I'm on my way to the vault now,
Caroline,"
Arthur said.
"I'll call you as soon as we have the files."
"Be careful,
Arthur,"
I warned.
"A man who has taken twice will not hesitate to strike a third time."
"I have security with me,
my dear,"
he assured me.
"Don't worry.
We are close to the end."
I hung up the phone,
staring at the empty city street outside my window.
The web of Preston’s lies was finally unraveling,
and the truth was far more terrifying than I had ever imagined.
He was not just a white-collar criminal;
he was a serial predator,
a monster who had preyed on the wealthy women of New York for a decade.
May you like
But his game was over,
and I was going to make sure he never hurt anyone again.
