Chapter 4 - Forty-Seven Missing Minutes
David refused to explain the instructions over the phone.
“Not with Evelyn’s people around you.”
“I’m at the hospital.”
“And half her friends have your number.”
“David.”
“Tomorrow morning. My office. Bring Mia’s identification and Michael’s death certificate if you have a certified copy.”
“I have a key.”
Silence.
Sarah heard him breathe.
“What kind?”
“Brass. Blue string. M.C. PRIVATE. Number five.”
Another silence.
This one lasted longer.
“Where did you get it?”
“Mia.”
“Does Evelyn know you have it?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Keep it that way.”
“David, what does it open?”
“I’m not certain.”
“You’re lying.”
“I’m being careful.”
“You’ve been careful for eighteen months.”
His voice softened.
“I know.”
Sarah almost hung up.
Then David said, “Michael didn’t trust anyone at the end. Including me.”
The call ended with an appointment at eight-thirty the next morning.
Sarah did not sleep.
She took Mia to the guest cottage at the edge of the Mercer property because returning to the main house was impossible and driving forty minutes to their apartment while exhausted felt worse.
Deputy Ruiz stationed a patrol vehicle outside until midnight.
Evelyn did not come near them.
At 2:13 a.m., Sarah went back to the mansion alone.
Lucas let her through the kitchen door.
“You shouldn’t be here.”
“I want Michael’s study.”
“It’s locked.”
“Then unlock it.”
The study had been preserved almost exactly as it was when Michael died.
Sarah hated that.
Evelyn called it respect.
Sarah called it embalming.
Michael’s leather chair still faced the windows. His college rowing photograph still sat beside the lamp. A legal pad remained in the upper drawer with three meaningless numbers written in his handwriting.
Sarah opened cabinets.
Nothing.
Lucas stood near the door.
“What are you looking for?”
“A blue envelope.”
“Where did Mia see it?”
“She didn’t say.”
Sarah crouched near the bottom bookcase.
A small black lockbox sat behind a row of outdated development reports.
Her heart jumped.
“Was that always there?”
Lucas frowned.
“I don’t remember it.”
The brass key did not fit.
The lockbox was already open.
Sarah lifted the lid.
Empty.
Except for a shallow groove in the velvet lining.
Something rectangular had been stored there.
An envelope, perhaps.
Or a document packet.
She searched the desk again.
On the lower shelf she found a framed photograph of Michael at a Mercer Development groundbreaking. Evelyn stood beside him. David Lane stood on the other side.
In the background was Jonathan Reed, the company’s chief financial officer.
Sarah remembered Jonathan telling her at the funeral that Michael had been “the only one stubborn enough to save us from ourselves.”
At the time she had thought it was a compliment.
Now it sounded different.
Lucas called from the hall.
“Sarah.”
She followed him toward the security room.
The mansion used twelve cameras: front gate, driveway, kitchen entrance, pool, garage, side lawn, rear terrace.
Lucas pulled up the previous afternoon.
At 2:04 p.m., Mia appeared on the rear terrace with Zoe.
At 2:07, Evelyn crossed behind them.
At 2:09, Mia went inside alone.
At 2:10, Evelyn followed.
Then the screen froze.
Every camera.
Not black.
Frozen.
The timestamp continued running over a single unmoving image.
At 2:57, the system resumed.
Forty-seven minutes were missing.
Sarah stared.
“Power outage?”
“No.”
“Network failure?”
“No.”
“How do you know?”
“The alarm panel stayed online.”
“Can someone shut off recording manually?”
“Yes.”
“From here?”
“Or remotely, if they have administrator access.”
“Who does?”
Lucas looked miserable.
“Me. Evelyn. Jonathan Reed.”
Sarah turned.
“The CFO has access to my mother-in-law’s pool camera?”
“He supervised the security upgrade because the company paid for it.”
“Why would the company pay for her home security?”
“The mansion is owned through Mercer Heritage LLC.”
Sarah felt another floor open beneath the first.
“Owned by the company?”
“Not exactly.”
“Then exactly how?”
Lucas rubbed the back of his neck.
“I manage the house, Sarah. Not the corporate structure.”
On the screen, frozen Mia smiled at something outside the frame.
Sarah leaned closer.
At the very edge of the image, reflected in the glass doors, she could see an adult figure entering behind Evelyn.
Dark suit.
Tall.
A flash of silver at the wrist.
The image was too distorted for a face.
Sarah took a photograph of the monitor.
When she straightened, Lucas was looking at something on the control desk.
“What?”
He picked up a printed maintenance ticket.
The security vendor had performed a remote administrative test three days earlier.
Requested by:
J. REED.
Sarah stared at the name.
“Why was Jonathan testing cameras three days before Mia’s party?”
Lucas did not answer.
Sarah looked again at the frozen image.
Mia.
Evelyn.
And someone entering behind them.
Then she noticed the bottom of the maintenance ticket.
The test had not been scheduled for the entire system.
Only two cameras were listed.
May you like
POOL.
BASEMENT CORRIDOR.
