“That’s the problem.”
Ray sounded exhausted.
“Jack, I think someone has been using my credentials.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“What is Mercer Athletic Consulting?”
Silence.
Long enough to answer the question.
“Ray?”
“I found out this morning.”
“And?”
“It’s mine.”
Marcy sat forward.
“He lied to me.”
Ray heard her voice.
“Marcy?”
“Yes.”
“I didn’t know it existed.”
She stared at the phone.
“How can a company belong to you without you knowing?”
“Because someone filed it using my information.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“No,” he said. “It doesn’t.”
Ray explained.
Five years earlier, when he opened the gym, his older brother had helped arrange the financing.
That brother was Dustin’s uncle, Frank.
There it was.
The local crime figure I had heard about.
But even that description turned out to be oversimplified.
Frank Mercer was not some movie gangster controlling half the city.
