Chương 3 - Seven Missing Minutes
By sunset, the wedding flowers had begun to wilt.
The floral arch remained standing above an empty deck.
Half-full glasses had been cleared away. Chairs sat in perfectly aligned rows facing a ceremony that would never happen.
Mia watched the island shrink behind the medical boat as it carried Lily toward Charleston.
Her daughter slept against her side.
Marcus sat opposite them with his laptop open.
“The deck camera records continuously,” he said. “It uploads locally and mirrors to cloud storage every ten minutes.”
“And today?”
“Seven minutes are missing.”
“What seven minutes?”
“Two thirteen to two twenty.”
The fall had occurred at approximately two sixteen.
Mia looked at him.
“That isn’t an equipment failure.”
“No.”
“How do you know?”
“The system logs manual deletion differently from corrupted footage.”
“Who has access?”
“Me. You. Head of security.”
“Anyone else?”
Marcus hesitated.
“An emergency administrator account.”
“Who used it?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“You’re the operations director.”
“I know.”
His frustration was genuine.
“I changed the credentials six months ago. But someone accessed the account yesterday and again today.”
Mia looked down at sleeping Lily.
“From where?”
“The island network.”
“Can you narrow it down?”
“Eventually.”
Mia leaned back.
Her body felt exhausted, but her mind had become painfully alert.
The fall.
The forged signature.
The wedding expenses.
The missing security video.
Different problems were beginning to touch.
That frightened her more than any one of them.
At the mainland hospital, Lily underwent additional imaging.
No fractures.
The doctor diagnosed a sprained wrist, deep bruising and recommended observation for possible concussion symptoms.
Mia nearly cried with relief.
When she finally stepped into the hallway, Marcus was waiting with another piece of news.
“The videographer copied everything before the deputies arrived.”
“Good.”
“Not exactly.”
Mia stopped.
“What?”
“One camera card is missing.”
“Which one?”
“The camera facing the deck edge.”
Mia stared at him.
“Coincidence?”
“I’m beginning to think that word has lost all meaning today.”
Deputy Foster arrived an hour later.
She had already spoken to more than twenty witnesses.
The statements conflicted.
Some guests had been looking elsewhere.
Some saw Lauren extend her arms but could not tell whether she pushed Lily or tried to grab her.
One bridesmaid claimed Lily stumbled on her own.
A catering server said the push looked deliberate.
Evelyn insisted Lauren had attempted to catch the child.
Grant had been near the arch but claimed his view was obstructed.
“Do you have enough to charge her?” Mia asked.
Foster did not answer emotionally.
“We investigate first.”
Mia respected that.
“What about the missing footage?”
“We’re documenting it.”
“Can deleted video be recovered?”
“Sometimes.”
Marcus spoke.
“I’ve already preserved the server.”
Foster nodded.
“Good.”
Mia looked through the glass panel of Lily’s room.
Her daughter was awake now, coloring.
“She keeps saying she ruined the dress.”
Foster’s expression softened.
“Children repeat whatever they think explains why adults are angry.”
Mia looked back at her.
“What happens if the professional video is gone?”
“Phones.”
“What?”
“There were nearly a hundred people at that wedding. Somebody recorded something.”
Marcus gave a humorless smile.
“For once, social media might save us.”
He was right.
By midnight, three guests had voluntarily sent clips.
None showed the complete fall.
One showed Lauren yelling.
Another caught Lily disappearing from frame.
The third was taken from too far away.
Then a fourth video arrived.
It came from a guest Mia barely knew, a college friend of Grant’s cousin.
The clip lasted eleven seconds.
Lauren stood over Lily.
Lily’s voice could be heard faintly.
“I’m sorry…”
“You ruined my dress!”
Then a waiter crossed in front of the camera.
When he moved away, Lily was already falling.
Mia felt sick.
So close.
Still not enough.
Marcus paused the video.
“Look.”
He enlarged the corner of the frame.
Behind Lauren stood Evelyn.
Evelyn’s hand was not reaching toward Lily.
It was gripping the deck railing.
And her face was visible.
She was not surprised.
Not yet.
Instead, she was looking toward something beyond the frame.
Marcus followed her eyeline.
“The security camera.”
Mia felt the hair rise on her arms.
“You think my mother knew the camera was going to be deleted?”
“I think she was looking at it before Lily fell.”
Mia shook her head.
“That doesn’t prove anything.”
“No.”
Marcus clicked to another screen.
“But this might matter.”
It was a network log.
The emergency administrator account had been used at 2:18 p.m., approximately two minutes after Lily hit the sand.
The device had connected through the Wi-Fi access point serving the west guest cottages.
Mia knew immediately who had been staying there.
Evelyn’s suite was in West Cottage Three.
“So someone deleted the footage from my mother’s building.”
“Yes.”
“Could it have been another guest?”
“Yes.”
“Lauren?”
“She was still on the deck.”
“Grant?”
“Also on the deck.”
Mia leaned closer.
“What device?”
Marcus pointed to an identifier.
“Apple laptop.”
Mia closed her eyes.
Her mother traveled everywhere with a silver MacBook.
But suspicion was not proof.
Mia opened them again.
“Find out what you can without touching anything illegally.”
Marcus nodded.
“I already contacted our cyber consultant.”
“Good.”
His phone buzzed.
He read the message.
Then his face changed.
“What now?”
Marcus turned the screen toward her.
It was an email from the island’s accounting firm.
The subject line read:
URGENT: REQUEST FOR CONFIRMATION OF ASSET TRANSFER AUTHORIZATION
Mia felt the room tilt.
“Asset transfer?”
Marcus opened the message.
Attached was a document dated three days earlier.
At the top was the logo of Bellweather Island Holdings.
At the bottom was Mia’s signature.
And between them was a paragraph authorizing negotiations for the sale of development rights over nearly half the island.
The proposed buyer:
Mercer Coastal Development.
Grant’s family company.
Mia stared at the signature.
May you like
Again, it looked perfect.
Again, she had never signed it.
