Chapter 2 - The Camera That Was Supposed to Go Blind
"His name is Caleb Price."
Emily spoke slowly, keeping her eyes on the tablet.
"Preston said Caleb worked with the hospital's technology department."
Dana zoomed in.
The man's face was still indistinct, but his badge carried a partial employee number.
Raymond stood.
"Find his access history."
Dana nodded.
"Already requested."
Emily looked between them.
"Why would somebody disable an alert before Vanessa kicked me?"
"That's what we need to establish," Dana said.
Raymond pulled his chair closer.
"Emily, tell us exactly what happened at home."
She closed her eyes.
The previous Thursday had been warm.
Preston had arrived with a large white shopping bag and a smile she hadn't seen in weeks.
He had kissed her forehead.
"Got something for the little guy."
Inside the bag was an expensive smart baby monitor.
Emily remembered laughing.
"He's not even here yet."
"Never too early to prepare."
Preston had called someone on speakerphone.
A technician had arrived forty minutes later.
Caleb Price.
Early thirties.
Short brown hair.
Polite.
Quiet.
He had worked in the nursery for nearly an hour.
Then he asked whether he could connect the monitor to the house network.
Emily had given him the guest Wi-Fi password.
"Anything else?" Dana asked.
"He asked where our home security system was installed."
Raymond frowned.
"Why?"
"He said the signals could interfere."
"And Preston?"
"He was there."
Emily opened her eyes.
"He told me to let Caleb handle everything."
Dana wrote something down.
"Did Caleb access your phone?"
Emily thought carefully.
"He asked me to install an app."
"Did you?"
"Yes."
"Do you still have it?"
Emily reached for her purse.
Raymond stopped her.
"Not yet."
He looked at Dana.
"Get someone qualified to preserve her phone without altering the evidence."
Emily felt anger rising beneath her fear.
"So they might have been watching me?"
"We don't know what the equipment was configured to do," Dana said.
"But we'll find out."
Dr. Mercer returned before Emily could ask another question.
The ultrasound had shown a reassuring heartbeat and movement.
However, Emily had experienced contractions during monitoring.
The doctor wanted continued observation.
"Can I go home tonight?" Emily asked.
"Not yet."
Dr. Mercer sat beside her.
"After an abdominal impact, some complications can develop later. I want you monitored here while we reassess the contractions and your symptoms."
Emily looked at the clock.
She had entered the hospital for a routine prenatal appointment.
Now she was under observation because her husband's mistress had kicked her.
And a strange man might have interfered with her home security.
"Whatever keeps him safe," she said.
Dr. Mercer gave her a reassuring nod.
"That's our priority."
Across the building, Preston Whitmore was losing his temper.
"You're making a mistake."
Detective Marcus Bell watched him from the opposite side of a small interview room.
Bell was forty-one, broad through the shoulders, and had the patient expression of a man who had heard every possible version of innocence.
"Mr. Whitmore, I asked whether you witnessed Ms. Cross making contact with your wife."
Preston adjusted his cuffs.
"I saw an argument."
"That's not my question."
"Vanessa lost her balance."
Bell glanced at his notes.
"She lost her balance?"
"Yes."
"And her foot struck Mrs. Whitmore?"
"It was an accident."
Bell turned a page.
"According to the preliminary security report, she crossed approximately six feet of hallway before making contact."
Preston stared.
"That's ridiculous."
"Why?"
"Because I was there."
"So was a security camera."
Preston leaned back.
For the first time, his hand stopped moving.
Bell noticed.
"Would you like to revise your statement?"
"No."
"All right."
Bell closed his notebook.
"We'll continue reviewing the evidence."
Preston stood.
"Am I free to go?"
"Yes. We'll contact you if we need anything further."
At the door, Bell added, "Your wife is still being evaluated."
Preston paused.
"She's dramatic."
Bell said nothing.
That bothered Preston more than an accusation would have.
Vanessa Cross had a different strategy.
She cried.
Not loudly.
Not convincingly.
But long enough to leave traces of mascara beneath her eyes.
"I never meant to hurt her."
The officer taking her statement looked up.
"Earlier, you said you didn't touch her."
"I was frightened."
"Of Mrs. Whitmore?"
"She threatened me."
"What did she say?"
Vanessa hesitated.
"Something about ruining my life."
"Before or after the contact?"
"Before."
"Did anyone hear it?"
"I don't know."
The officer wrote down the answer.
Vanessa watched his pen.
"Preston said Emily has emotional problems."
"Did you personally observe any?"
"She's obsessive."
"Can you give an example?"
Vanessa opened her mouth.
Then closed it.
Her phone vibrated.
A message appeared from an unknown number.
STOP TALKING. ASK FOR COUNSEL.
Vanessa stared.
Another message arrived.
THE ALERT WAS DISABLED. THE RECORDING WASN'T.
Her face drained.
She turned the phone over.
"Are we finished?"
At 3:17 that afternoon, Raymond met his general counsel in a small boardroom overlooking the hospital gardens.
Margaret Shaw was fifty-six and had worked with the Saint Claire family for twenty-two years.
She placed a folder on the table.
"Preston requested a complete copy of the land trust two months ago."
Raymond's expression hardened.
"Under what authority?"
"He claimed the development committee needed it for refinancing."
"There is no refinancing plan."
"Not an approved one."
Margaret opened the folder.
"He's been meeting privately with representatives of a company called Meridian Healthcare Capital."
Raymond recognized the name.
A private investment firm specializing in distressed hospitals.
Meridian bought facilities cheaply, stripped valuable assets, and sold what remained.
"They've approached us twice," Raymond said.
"And we declined both times."
Margaret nodded.
"Apparently, they found another door."
Raymond looked out at the maternity wing.
"How far has Preston gotten?"
"We don't know."
"Find out."
Margaret hesitated.
"There's something else."
She slid a second document across the table.
It was a corporate filing.
The name at the bottom made Raymond's chest tighten.
Whitmore Development Holdings.
Preston's personal company.
The document described an option agreement to acquire a controlling interest in a newly formed hospital management subsidiary.
"That company shouldn't exist," Raymond said.
"It does."
"Who authorized it?"
Margaret turned the page.
The signature line carried a name.
Emily Whitmore.
Raymond stared.
"She didn't sign this."
Margaret shook her head.
"The signature was witnessed electronically."
"By whom?"
"Caleb Price."
Raymond looked up.
The same man at the security camera.
The same man who installed Emily's baby monitor.
And now the same man who had witnessed an agreement transferring corporate rights that Emily didn't even know she possessed.
Raymond reached for his phone.
Before he could dial, Margaret spoke.
"Raymond, there's another clause."
"What clause?"
She pointed to the bottom of the page.
"If Emily is declared unable to make financial decisions, the voting authority shifts temporarily to her spouse."
Raymond read the sentence twice.
Then he understood why Preston kept calling his wife unstable.
He wasn't merely trying to humiliate her.
He was trying to create a paper trail that could give him control of her inheritance.
And the assault in the hallway might have been part of that effort.
His phone rang.
Dana Brooks.
Raymond answered.
"Tell me."
"Caleb Price clocked out early."
"Where is he?"
"We're trying to locate him."
"Check the hospital entrances."
"Already done."
Dana paused.
"Mr. Saint Claire, there's something you need to know."
"What?"
"Caleb didn't use his own identification to leave."
"Whose did he use?"
May you like
Dana exhaled.
"Mrs. Whitmore's."
