Chapter 10 - Eleven Missing MinutesEthan did not sleep.
At six the next morning, he sent Naomi a copy of the voicemail and the information displayed in his account history.
By eight, Ortiz had arranged to examine the original recording and investigate how it had been forwarded.
At ten, a telecommunications specialist confirmed that the forwarding activity appeared in the account logs.
But the destination wasn't an unfamiliar number.
It belonged to a device registered under the Vale family's shared communications plan.
The device name was ASHCROFT OFFICE TABLET.
Ethan stared at the report.
"Who uses that?"
"Who had access to it?" Ortiz asked.
"Anyone in the household office. Adrian. Victor. Russell when he visits. Claire used to."
Ortiz made a note.
"The forwarding establishes that the message was accessed through the shared account. It doesn't establish who did it."
"Can you trace the login?"
"We're working on the available records."
Ethan sat back.
Claire had called him.
Someone had heard her warning.
And less than two hours later, she was dead.
At Ashcroft House, the forensic team continued examining the security installation.
They had already found evidence that the kitchen listening device was linked to a small recording server behind a locked communications cabinet.
But the most important discovery came from an external vendor.
The estate's electronic-access hardware had been installed by a New York company called Northstar Integrated Systems.
Although Victor controlled the household software, certain maintenance and authentication logs were retained separately by the vendor.
Those records survived local deletions.
At 9:26 p.m. on July eighteenth, an administrator had initiated a manual shutdown of the rear stairwell camera.
At 9:37 p.m., the camera returned to service.
Eleven minutes.
The precise period during which Claire suffered her fatal injury.
The administrator account had belonged to Victor Shaw.
Ortiz studied the records carefully.
"Could another employee have used those credentials?" she asked the technician.
"Yes. If they knew the password or had access to an authenticated terminal."
"Does the vendor record the source?"
"It records the requesting device. But that doesn't necessarily identify who was sitting in front of it."
The request had originated from the main security office.
Ortiz called Victor for a formal interview.
He arrived accompanied by an attorney.
"I don't remember manually disabling that camera," he said.
Ortiz placed the records in front of him.
"The request originated from your office."
Victor examined the paper.
"System maintenance."
"At nine twenty-six on the evening Mrs. Vale died?"
"Problems don't schedule themselves, Detective."
"Was anyone else in your office?"
"Possibly."
"Who?"
"I'd need to review the duty roster."
Ortiz leaned forward.
"Your initial statement said you were patrolling the north gate during that period."
Victor's expression remained blank.
"That's what I remember."
"The gate's electronic patrol scanner doesn't show your badge during that window."
"I may have been elsewhere."
"Where?"
"I can't say with certainty after three months."
Ortiz watched him.
"Mrs. Vale died during an eleven-minute interruption you cannot explain. Your administrator account was used. Your patrol location cannot be verified. Can you understand why we're asking?"
Victor folded his hands.
"I understand you're investigating an unfortunate accident."
"That's not the question."
His attorney intervened.
"My client has answered what he remembers."
The interview ended shortly afterward.
Ortiz watched Victor leave.
She did not have enough to arrest him.
But she now had reason to examine his movements on the night Claire died far more closely.
Ethan learned about the camera interruption that afternoon.
He stood in Naomi's office, staring at the report.
"Eleven minutes."
Naomi nodded.
"Yes."
"Claire warned us."
"She warned you that cameras had stopped recording. She may have noticed a previous interruption."
Ethan looked toward the window.
"She knew."
"She suspected."
"She knew someone was lying."
Naomi allowed the distinction to remain between them.
Then she opened another document.
"There's more."
A company ledger showed a $48,000 payment from a Whitcomb operating account to a firm called Sentinel Risk Solutions.
"Security consulting?" Ethan asked.
"That's the description."
"Who owns it?"
"Victor Shaw."
Ethan read the authorization line.
Adrian Vale.
The payment had been made seven days after Claire died.
"Could be legitimate," Naomi said. "Victor may have provided services outside his ordinary salary."
Ethan gave her a hard look.
"You don't believe that."
"I believe we need the contract and proof of services."
He picked up the page.
Forty-eight thousand dollars.
One week after his wife's death.
Approved by his brother.
Paid to the man whose security credentials had been used to disable the camera.
Ethan looked down at his tattooed hands.
The old version of himself would already have been driving toward Ashcroft House.
He would have dragged Victor from the security office and demanded answers.
But that man had never had two daughters sleeping under the same roof as someone who threatened them.
He set down the paper.
"Give Ortiz everything."
That night, Adrian met Victor in the estate's unused billiard room.
The windows were closed.
A fireplace burned despite the mild weather.
Adrian stood beside the mantel.
"The vendor kept the logs."
Victor's expression was grim.
"I know."
"You told me they were gone."
"I said the local recordings were gone."
Adrian turned.
"Don't play word games with me."
Victor stepped closer.
"Then don't pretend you understand how the system works."
They stared at each other.
Adrian spoke first.
"How much did they recover?"
"The shutdown and restart requests."
"Anything else?"
"Not that I know."
Adrian exhaled.
Victor watched him.
"The police interviewed me."
"I heard."
"They asked about the stairwell."
Adrian's face tightened.
"What did you say?"
"Nothing useful."
"Good."
Victor took another step.
"You promised this would be finished after the funeral."
"It will be."
"That's what you said in July."
Adrian looked toward the closed door.
"You have been well compensated."
Victor's voice became dangerous.
"Money won't matter if they find the original footage."
Adrian went still.
He stared at the security manager.
"What original footage?"
Victor seemed to realize he'd said too much.
"Nothing."
"Victor."
"I said nothing."
May you like
But Adrian had heard.
And somewhere beneath the elegant rooms of Ashcroft House, someone knew that a record of the missing eleven minutes might still exist.
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