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Chapter 4 - Eleven Missing MinutesDarius returned home after midnight.

Ava stayed at the hospital with Emily for continued observation.

He did not tell Nia he was coming.

When he entered the mansion, he found her in the living room pouring wine.

"You left me here alone," she said.

Darius closed the door behind him.

"Our daughter was in the hospital."

"Your daughter."

Again.

Darius heard it.

Nia saw his expression and corrected herself.

"Ava. I meant Ava."

"You've called her your daughter plenty of times when photographers were around."

Nia set the glass down.

"Are you really doing this?"

"The pool camera was turned off."

Her face remained impressively calm.

"Then ask your security company."

"I did."

"And?"

"Someone used administrator access."

Nia crossed her arms.

"You have administrator access."

"So do you."

"So does Malik."

"No."

She blinked.

Darius stepped closer.

"I removed Malik's administrator privileges eight months ago when we upgraded the system. Only two devices can shut those cameras down manually."

Nia said nothing.

"My phone," Darius continued, "and your tablet."

"Then check them."

"I will."

Something flashed in her eyes.

It vanished almost instantly.

Nia smiled bitterly.

"You actually think I planned this."

"I think Ava says you pushed her."

"She's three."

"I think Emily says you pushed her."

"Emily hates me."

"I think a camera mysteriously stopped recording."

"Darius, listen to yourself."

"I am."

He moved past her.

"Where's your tablet?"

"In the bedroom."

He climbed the stairs.

Nia followed.

The tablet was not on the bedside table.

Not in the dresser.

Not in her handbag.

Nia opened drawers with increasing irritation.

"I must have left it downstairs."

"You were downstairs."

"Then someone moved it."

"Who?"

She spun toward him.

"This is exactly what Emily wanted."

"Emily didn't make the camera turn off."

"Maybe she did."

"She doesn't have access."

"Maybe you don't know what access she has."

Darius studied his wife.

He remembered falling in love with the certainty in her voice.

After Leah died, certainty had felt like oxygen.

Nia always knew what restaurant to choose, what school Ava should attend, which staff member needed replacing, which invitations Darius should accept.

He had called it strength.

Now he wondered whether it had been control.

A sound came from the hallway.

Rex.

The German Shepherd stood at the bedroom door.

His coat was dry now.

He looked at Darius.

Then at Nia.

A low growl rumbled in his chest.

Nia stepped backward.

"Get him away from me."

Darius did not move.

"Rex."

The dog stopped growling immediately.

Darius knelt.

Rex approached him.

For the first time that night, Darius touched the animal he had nearly condemned.

His fingers sank into the fur around Rex's neck.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

Nia scoffed.

"You're apologizing to a dog now?"

Darius stood.

"That dog saved Ava."

"According to Emily."

"According to the dress."

He walked toward the hallway.

Rex followed.

Then the dog stopped.

His ears lifted.

He turned toward Nia's walk-in closet.

"Rex."

The dog moved inside.

Nia's face drained.

"Get him out."

Rex sniffed near a row of garment bags.

Then he pushed his nose beneath a low bench.

Darius crouched.

There was something underneath it.

A black tablet.

Nia spoke too quickly.

"There it is."

Darius looked at her.

"Under the bench?"

"I must've dropped it."

He pressed the screen.

It required her passcode.

"Unlock it."

Nia laughed.

"No."

"Nia."

"You're not searching my private messages because a nurse accused me."

Darius stood slowly.

"You offered to let me check it ten minutes ago."

"Before you started treating me like a criminal."

"Unlock it."

"No."

They stared at one another.

Then Nia reached for the tablet.

Darius pulled it away.

Her mask broke.

"Give me that."

The urgency in her voice stopped him.

Not anger.

Fear.

Darius looked down at the device.

Then at his wife.

May you like

And for the first time, he wondered whether the missing eleven minutes were not the beginning of the mystery.

But evidence that something had begun much earlier.

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