Chapter 3 - Twelve Missing MinutesThe first police officer arrived at 4:18 p.m.
The second came six minutes later.
By then, Daniel had moved Grace into the family room, where Rosa wrapped her in a blanket and gave her warm apple juice.
Vanessa stayed in the living room.
She looked insulted rather than frightened.
Officer James Holloway photographed the vest before placing it inside a paper evidence bag.
“Three punctures,” he said.
Daniel nodded.
“You can tell they were deliberate?”
“I can tell there are three holes. A lab would determine more.”
Vanessa crossed her legs.
“You should also determine whether either of those women touched it.”
Marisol stared at her.
Holloway remained neutral.
“We’ll speak with everyone separately.”
Daniel watched Vanessa.
She seemed prepared.
That bothered him more than panic would have.
Detective Andrea Keller arrived just before five.
She had spent thirteen years investigating domestic violence, child abuse and suspicious accidents.
She listened to Daniel first.
Then Rosa.
Then Marisol.
Vanessa was last.
Her interview took almost an hour.
When Keller finally emerged, Daniel was waiting in the hallway.
“What did she say?”
The detective studied him.
“I can’t discuss her entire statement.”
“She’s my wife.”
“And Grace is your daughter.”
Daniel understood.
“Do you believe her?”
“I don’t decide what I believe on the first night.”
Keller glanced toward the backyard.
“I look for things that don’t move.”
“What does that mean?”
“People change stories. Evidence doesn’t.”
She asked to see the security control room.
Daniel led her downstairs.
The Whitmore mansion used an integrated smart-home system controlling cameras, gates, lights, climate, locks and alarms.
A technician joined them remotely.
“The pool camera went offline at 3:34:12,” he explained.
“Mechanical failure?” Keller asked.
“No.”
Daniel leaned forward.
The technician continued.
“The recording function was manually disabled through an administrator account.”
Daniel’s stomach tightened.
“Which account?”
The technician hesitated.
“The master household account.”
Daniel frowned.
“I have that.”
“So does Mrs. Whitmore.”
Keller looked at him.
“Anyone else?”
Daniel thought.
“Our estate manager has limited access.”
“Can limited access disable cameras?”
“No.”
The technician confirmed.
“Only master administrator.”
Keller asked, “Can you identify the device?”
“We have a device token.”
He read a series of letters and numbers.
Daniel stared at the screen.
“That means nothing to me.”
“It may correspond to a phone or tablet registered to the system.”
“Can you tell which?”
“Not immediately. We’ll need the local logs.”
Keller requested them preserved.
When they returned upstairs, Vanessa was standing beside the grand staircase wearing a coat.
Daniel stopped.
“Where are you going?”
“To my sister’s.”
“No.”
Vanessa laughed once.
“Excuse me?”
“Until we know what happened, you’re not taking anything out of this house.”
Keller stepped between them verbally before the argument escalated.
“Mrs. Whitmore is free to leave unless a court says otherwise.”
Vanessa gave Daniel a triumphant look.
“But,” Keller continued, “we would prefer that no electronic devices connected to the home system leave the property until we’ve documented them.”
Vanessa’s expression changed.
Only slightly.
Daniel saw it.
“So give them your phone,” he said.
“I don’t have to.”
Keller said, “Not without consent or a warrant.”
Vanessa slipped her hand into her coat pocket.
Daniel noticed the shape.
“Your phone is in there.”
“So?”
“If you’re innocent, let them check.”
Her eyes hardened.
“Innocent people still have privacy.”
Daniel stared at the woman he had married fourteen months earlier.
He remembered their first dinner.
Her intelligence.
Her confidence.
The way she had spoken about rebuilding a life after grief.
He had believed they understood each other.
Now he realized he knew almost nothing about what frightened her.
Keller watched both of them.
“Mrs. Whitmore, you can leave. But I’m advising you not to delete or alter anything related to today.”
Vanessa smiled coldly.
“Of course.”
She walked toward the door.
Grace appeared at the top of the stairs.
Rosa stood behind her.
“Vanessa?”
Everyone looked up.
The child held the railing.
Her hair was still damp.
Vanessa stopped.
For one second, the controlled woman disappeared.
Something flickered through her face.
Guilt?
Fear?
Anger?
Grace pointed downstairs.
“You poked my jacket.”
Silence filled the foyer.
Daniel’s head turned slowly toward Vanessa.
“What did she say?”
Vanessa’s face drained of color.
Grace repeated it.
“You poked my orange jacket.”
Rosa knelt beside the child.
“What do you mean, sweetheart?”
Grace touched one finger to her other palm.
“Pokey thing.”
Daniel felt the room tilt.
Vanessa shook her head.
“She’s three.”
Keller’s voice remained calm.
“Grace, did you see Vanessa with something?”
Vanessa snapped, “Do not question her without Daniel’s permission.”
Daniel looked at Keller.
“You have permission.”
Vanessa turned on him.
“You’re letting a police officer interrogate a toddler?”
Keller raised a hand.
“I’m not conducting a formal forensic interview here. I’m asking one clarification.”
She looked toward Grace.
“Did the pokey thing touch you?”
Grace shook her head vigorously.
“No. Jacket.”
Daniel closed his eyes.
That distinction mattered.
Grace was not simply repeating something she had overheard.
She remembered an object being used on the vest.
Vanessa moved toward the door again.
Daniel blocked her path.
“Where is the needle?”
Her eyes flashed.
“What needle?”
“The pokey thing.”
“You sound insane.”
“Where is it?”
“I don’t know what she thinks she saw.”
Keller stepped closer.
“Mr. Whitmore.”
Daniel moved aside.
Vanessa opened the door.
Then Keller said, “Mrs. Whitmore?”
Vanessa turned.
“We’ll be requesting a warrant for the smart-home logs and potentially your devices.”
Vanessa’s fingers tightened around the door handle.
“Then request one.”
She left.
Daniel watched her car disappear through the gates.
Behind him, Grace began asking Rosa for another cup of juice.
A normal request.
From a three-year-old who had no idea that one sentence had changed everything.
Keller looked at Daniel.
“Do you have another place you and Grace can stay tonight?”
“This is our home.”
“Then change the security codes.”
Daniel nodded.
Keller continued.
“And don’t underestimate those twelve missing minutes.”
Daniel looked toward the darkening patio.
“What do you think happened?”
“I think someone knew exactly when the camera needed to stop.”
Outside, the pumpkins along the pool began glowing automatically as dusk arrived.
May you like
Three of them.
Daniel suddenly hated the number.
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