Chapter 4 - The Camera Behind Noah's Wall
I didn't remember crossing the driveway.
One moment I was standing beside Detective Whitmore, trying to understand what she'd said.
The next I was gripping the side of her car so hard my fingers hurt.
“Someone's been watching my son?”
Whitmore nodded.
“We believe so.”
“From my mother's property?”
“We've found a remote monitoring station.”
“Who installed it?”
“We don't know yet.”
I thought of Noah sleeping in his blue dinosaur pajamas.
I thought of him waking at night and whispering that Mommy was coming.
I thought of all the times Claire had stood in his doorway, staring at him with an expression I had mistaken for concern.
Then I thought of the baby monitor we'd stopped using when he turned two.
The monitor that Claire had insisted we replace after she moved in.
“Claire bought a camera,” I said.
Whitmore took out her notebook.
“When?”
“About four months ago.”
“Where was it installed?”
“In the nursery.”
“Do you still have access to it?”
“I think so.”
She nodded.
“Don't open the app or change any settings.”
I looked at her.
“Why?”
“We need to preserve the evidence.”
I nearly laughed.
Evidence.
For eight months, I had lived inside a house that might have been spying on my child.
For eight months, a woman I married had slept beside me while my real wife was locked beneath the garden.
And now the world had become a collection of evidence.
Whitmore softened her voice.
“Daniel, I need you to focus on Noah.”
I turned.
Robert stood beside the patio, rocking my son gently in his arms.
Noah had finally stopped crying.
He was staring at the cellar door.
I walked toward him.
He reached for me immediately.
“Daddy.”
I lifted him.
“I'm right here.”
He touched my cheek.
“Mommy out?”
I swallowed.
“Yes, buddy.”
“Mommy come home?”
I closed my eyes.
“I hope so.”
He thought about that.
Then he whispered, “Bad lady mad.”
I opened my eyes.
“Which lady?”
He looked toward the patrol car where Claire sat.
“Claire.”
My blood went cold.
I lowered myself onto a garden bench.
“Buddy, did Claire ever tell you not to talk about Mommy?”
Noah nodded.
The movement was small.
“Did she tell you something else?”
He pressed his fingers together.
“Secret.”
I felt my chest tighten.
“What secret?”
He looked around as though checking whether anyone could hear us.
Then he leaned toward my ear.
“Mommy talk in wall.”
I stopped breathing.
“In your bedroom?”
He nodded again.
I glanced toward Whitmore.
She had been standing close enough to hear.
Her expression sharpened.
“Noah,” she said gently, “can you tell us what you mean?”
He buried his face in my shoulder.
Whitmore immediately stepped back.
“It's okay.”
She looked at me.
“We'll arrange for someone trained to speak with young children.”
I nodded.
I didn't want to turn my son into another frightened witness.
He had already spent eight months trying to tell adults something they refused to hear.
I wanted to carry him somewhere safe and never put him down.
But I also needed to understand what had happened.
A deputy approached.
“Detective, the house is secured.”
Whitmore nodded.
“Good.”
Then she looked at me.
“Daniel, do you have somewhere you and Noah can stay tonight?”
I glanced at Robert.
He answered before I could speak.
“My place.”
Whitmore looked at him.
“Do you live alone?”
“Yes.”
“Who has keys?”
“Just me.”
I shook my head.
“Mom has one.”
Robert's expression changed.
“She does.”
Whitmore thought for a moment.
“We can arrange another safe location.”
I looked at my brother.
He understood immediately.
Neither of us trusted anything connected to our mother anymore.
Not the family house.
Not her garage.
Not the keys she held.
Not the people she knew.
A uniformed officer approached Whitmore again.
“Detective, we have a problem.”
Her eyes narrowed.
“What problem?”
“The recording station.”
“What about it?”
“The primary hard drive is missing.”
I looked up.
Whitmore's face hardened.
“Missing?”
“The cabinet is empty.”
“Was it removed recently?”
“Looks like it.”
“Any signs of forced entry?”
“No, ma'am.”
She glanced toward the patrol car.
Claire was sitting motionless.
My mother sat in another vehicle a short distance away.
Detective Pierce stood near the garden gate, speaking quietly into his phone.
I watched him.
He ended the call when he noticed me looking.
Then he turned away.
Whitmore followed my gaze.
“Stay here,” she told me.
She walked toward Pierce.
I couldn't hear the first part of their conversation.
But then Pierce raised his voice.
“This is my case.”
Whitmore responded sharply.
“Not anymore.”
Several guests turned toward them.
Pierce's face reddened.
“You're making a serious mistake.”
Whitmore stepped closer.
“No, Alan.”
She said something too quietly for me to hear.
Whatever it was, he stopped talking.
A few seconds later, two deputies approached him.
They didn't arrest him.
Not then.
But they escorted him away from the garden.
I watched until he disappeared behind the house.
Robert sat beside me.
“Danny.”
I looked at him.
He hadn't called me Danny since we were kids.
“There's something I need to tell you.”
My stomach tightened.
“What?”
He swallowed.
“Emily came to me before she disappeared.”
I stared at him.
“When?”
“Three days before.”
A wave of anger hit me.
“You never told me that.”
“I know.”
“What did she say?”
Robert rubbed his hands together.
“She said someone was stealing from the family business.”
I blinked.
“What?”
“She found something in the books.”
Our father had founded Bennett Home Restoration thirty years earlier.
After he died, my mother inherited his majority ownership interest, while Robert and I handled day-to-day operations.
We renovated old homes, restored commercial properties, and managed several rental buildings.
It was a good business.
Not glamorous.
Not enormous.
But good.
Emily had worked as a forensic accountant before Noah was born.
She occasionally helped review our financial reports.
I had always appreciated how quickly she could spot problems.
But I never knew she had found anything serious.
“What kind of stealing?”
Robert looked toward the patrol cars.
“She thought somebody was using the company to move money.”
“Who?”
He hesitated.
“Mom.”
I stared at him.
“No.”
“I didn't believe her either.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because she asked me not to.”
“Why?”
Robert's eyes filled.
“She said she needed proof before she brought it to you.”
My hands began trembling.
He continued.
“She also said Claire was involved.”
I looked toward the patrol car.
My wife sat inside, her face turned away.
“Claire wasn't even working for us.”
“She was doing bookkeeping for the new properties.”
I remembered.
Claire had offered to help after our office manager took medical leave.
Emily hadn't liked the arrangement.
They had argued about it.
I had assumed Emily was jealous of their friendship.
God help me.
I had assumed my wife was being unreasonable.
Robert touched my arm.
“Daniel.”
I barely heard him.
“There's more.”
I turned slowly.
He looked ashamed.
“Emily gave me an envelope.”
“What envelope?”
“She said to open it if something happened to her.”
I felt all the air leave my lungs.
“Where is it?”
Robert looked down.
“I never opened it.”
I stood.
“Where is it, Robert?”
“At my apartment.”
“Eight months?”
My voice rose.
“You've had something Emily left behind for eight months?”
He didn't defend himself.
“I thought she'd abandoned you.”
I stared at him.
“And you didn't think to open it?”
“She said if something happened.”
“Something did happen!”
Noah flinched.
I immediately lowered my voice.
Robert nodded.
“I know.”
His eyes were red.
“I know, Danny.”
I wanted to scream.
I wanted to grab him by the shoulders and shake him.
Instead, I looked at the little boy in my arms.
He had no idea that the people he loved were tearing each other apart over things that should have been obvious months earlier.
I sat down again.
“Call Whitmore.”
Robert nodded.
He stood and hurried toward the detective.
I held Noah close.
For a moment, I closed my eyes.
Then Noah touched the front pocket of my shirt.
“Daddy?”
“Yes, buddy?”
“Blue Ellie.”
I went still.
“What?”
He looked up at me.
“Mommy put paper.”
I stared at him.
“In the elephant?”
He nodded.
“Blue Ellie got paper.”
I felt my heart pound.
“Where is Blue Ellie now?”
Noah looked toward the house.
Then toward the garage.
His little face changed.
He seemed frightened.
“Bad man take.”
I swallowed.
“What bad man?”
He whispered a name.
“Mr. Pierce.”
And suddenly I understood why Emily had mentioned the toy before losing consciousness.
She hadn't been delirious.
She had been trying to tell me where the proof was.
Proof that someone had stolen.
Proof that someone had lied.
Proof that might explain why my wife had disappeared.
But someone else had understood what that elephant contained.
May you like
And that someone had been inside our house.
Three days after Emily vanished.
