Chapter 2 - The Word of a Three-Year-OldNora spent the night at St. Matthew's Children's Hospital.
Daniel stayed beside her bed.
Vanessa was not allowed into the room.
The emergency physician found no permanent injury, but Nora was exhausted, dehydrated and dangerously chilled. The heated pool had helped. Milo had helped more.
Another hour, the doctor told Daniel quietly, could have changed everything.
Daniel sat beside Nora and watched her sleep beneath a white hospital blanket.
The words almost destroyed him.
Another hour.
He had attended a development meeting that afternoon.
He had silenced his phone twice.
He had assumed Nora was safe because she was home.
Because Vanessa was home.
His sister Olivia arrived shortly after midnight.
She was thirty-six, sharp-eyed and usually composed, but when she saw Daniel, she hugged him without speaking.
“What happened?”
Daniel led her into the hallway.
“Nora says Vanessa pushed her.”
Olivia became still.
“She said that?”
“Twice.”
“And the ladder?”
“Gone.”
“Where?”
“I found it behind the pool house.”
Olivia's eyes narrowed.
“Daniel.”
“I know.”
“No, you don't.”
Her tone surprised him.
“What does that mean?”
Olivia looked through the glass toward Nora.
“I've been trying to tell you for months that something about Vanessa wasn't right.”
Daniel's exhaustion turned instantly defensive.
“This isn't the time.”
“When would be the time?”
“My daughter almost died.”
“Exactly.”
He looked away.
Olivia lowered her voice.
“Nora stopped wanting Vanessa to put her to bed three months ago. Remember?”
“She was going through a phase.”
“That's what Vanessa told you.”
Daniel said nothing.
“And the bruised wrist?”
“She fell.”
“That's what Vanessa told you.”
“Olivia.”
“I'm not saying she caused everything. I'm saying you believed Vanessa every single time before you asked another question.”
The words hit harder because Daniel knew they were true.
A nurse approached.
“Mr. Mercer?”
“Yes?”
“Detective Harris is here. He'd like to speak with you.”
Daniel looked toward Nora's room.
“Now?”
“He can wait.”
Daniel nodded.
He had already called 911 from the pool deck after wrapping Nora in towels. Police had photographed the area before the ambulance left.
He had given a preliminary statement.
So had Vanessa.
According to Vanessa, she had not seen Nora near the pool that afternoon.
She claimed she had spent part of the day working from Daniel's home office, then assumed Nora was with the housekeeper.
Daniel had not yet told police about Vanessa's expression when Nora was found.
He would now.
Detective Aaron Harris was waiting in a consultation room.
He was in his late forties with an unhurried voice.
“Mr. Mercer, I want to be careful about what I ask you. Your daughter's age matters.”
“I understand.”
“Children that young can be suggestible.”
Daniel's hands tightened.
“She pointed at my wife without me asking her to.”
Harris nodded.
“That's important. But we need more than an accusation.”
“You have the ladder.”
“We do.”
“She removed it.”
“We don't know that yet.”
Daniel leaned forward.
“I saw her face when Nora was alive.”
Harris watched him.
“Tell me.”
Daniel described the sequence.
Nora crying.
Vanessa seeing her.
Eyes widening.
Hand over mouth.
Not the expression of someone discovering a missing child.
The expression of someone discovering a failed plan.
Harris wrote nothing until Daniel finished.
Then he asked, “Did your wife know about the pool ladder?”
“Everyone did.”
“Was it normally removed?”
“Never.”
“Anyone else have access?”
“Staff. Contractors. Guests.”
“Security cameras?”
Daniel frowned.
“Four exterior cameras cover the back of the house.”
Harris's gaze sharpened.
“Then we may have something.”
Daniel immediately reached for his phone.
The Mercer security system could be viewed remotely.
He opened the app.
Back patio.
Garden gate.
Driveway.
Pool deck.
The pool camera showed a black screen.
Daniel stared.
“What's wrong?”
He checked the system log.
His stomach dropped.
POOL CAMERA OFFLINE — 2:14 P.M.
Nora had been found shortly after eight.
“Mr. Mercer?”
Daniel turned the phone around.
Harris studied the timestamp.
“Who can disable that camera?”
“Me.”
“Anyone else?”
Daniel thought of the master password.
Then remembered something.
Three weeks earlier, Vanessa had asked for it.
She said the alarm kept going off when she opened the guesthouse door.
Daniel had texted it to her.
He looked toward the hospital hallway.
And for the first time, the possibility became larger than the pool.
May you like
Vanessa had not only known where the ladder was.
She may have known exactly how to make sure no one saw her remove it.
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