Chapter 7 - The Camera That Wasn't Supposed to Work
Detective Hale arrived at Eleanor Whitmore's house at 8:15 the following morning.
Rebecca accompanied him.
Eleanor opened the door wearing a lavender blouse and pearl earrings.
She smiled politely.
“Officers.”
“Mrs. Whitmore,” Hale said.
“We'd like to ask a few questions.”
“Of course.”
She led them into the formal sitting room.
The house looked as though no one had ever made a mess in it.
Fresh flowers stood on the side table.
Family portraits hung in expensive frames.
A grandfather clock ticked near the fireplace.
Hale noticed one photograph immediately.
Daniel and Sophie.
Claire had been cropped out.
“Beautiful home,” he said.
“Thank you.”
“How long have you lived here?”
“Thirty-one years.”
“And your son?”
“He grew up here.”
Hale nodded.
“Did Claire and Sophie visit often?”
“Whenever I invited them.”
Rebecca opened her notebook.
“Can we revisit the morning of the crash?”
Eleanor sighed.
“I've told you everything.”
“We appreciate your cooperation,” Hale said.
“What time did Claire arrive?”
“Around eight.”
“And when did she leave?”
“Nine-thirty.”
“Did you go outside while she was here?”
Eleanor hesitated.
“Possibly.”
“For what reason?”
“It's my house, Detective.”
“Of course.”
“Am I not allowed to walk through my own garden?”
Hale smiled faintly.
“You certainly are.”
Eleanor folded her hands.
“Then I don't understand the question.”
“Your granddaughter says she saw you near Claire's vehicle.”
Eleanor's face remained still.
“Madison?”
“Yes.”
“She was mistaken.”
“Did you see her that morning?”
“No.”
“Interesting.”
Hale took out a photograph.
It showed a section of Eleanor's driveway.
“We recovered footage from a neighboring property.”
Eleanor stared at the picture.
Hale continued.
“It doesn't show the entire driveway.”
He placed it on the coffee table.
“But it shows you outside at approximately eight-fifty.”
Eleanor barely glanced at it.
“I took out the trash.”
“Wasn't trash collection yesterday?”
She looked up sharply.
Hale waited.
Eleanor smiled.
“I may have been checking the recycling.”
Rebecca made a note.
Hale leaned back.
“Your security system wasn't recording?”
“No.”
“How long has it been broken?”
“A week.”
“Who maintains it?”
“A local company.”
“Name?”
Eleanor gave it.
Hale nodded.
“We'll contact them.”
“Is that necessary?”
“Very.”
The camera company gave them their first genuine breakthrough.
The system had not been broken for a week.
It had been manually disabled the morning of the crash.
At 8:41 a.m.
From an administrator account belonging to Eleanor Whitmore.
Hale studied the service log.
“Can we recover any recordings?”
The technician nodded.
“Some data was backed up before the system was disabled.”
“Anything from the morning?”
“Possibly.”
They began the recovery.
At 4:32 p.m., a technician called.
“We have something.”
Hale drove directly to the office.
The recovered footage showed Eleanor entering the garage area shortly before eight-thirty.
She wore a cream cardigan over her dress.
She carried a small dark bag.
For several minutes, the camera captured only partial movement.
Then Eleanor returned to the house.
The image didn't show what she had done.
But it established that she had been alone near Claire's vehicle before the crash.
And it contradicted her claim that she'd merely stepped outside to check recycling.
Hale requested a search warrant.
At St. Anne's, Daniel finally told Sophie the truth about the investigation.
Not everything.
Not the terrible details.
Only what she needed to know.
He sat beside her bed, holding the white stuffed rabbit Eleanor had brought.
“Peanut, I need to ask you something.”
Sophie looked at him.
“Am I in trouble?”
“No.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
He placed the rabbit on the chair.
“Do you remember Grandma doing anything strange before we left?”
Sophie thought for a long time.
“She was outside.”
“Where?”
“By Mommy's car.”
Daniel's heart pounded.
“What was she doing?”
“I couldn't see.”
“Why not?”
“Because I was in the kitchen.”
He nodded.
“Okay.”
Sophie looked down at her cast.
“Daddy?”
“Yes?”
“Grandma told me not to tell Mommy something.”
Daniel became still.
“What did she say?”
Sophie's lips trembled.
“She said Mommy gets upset about little things.”
“What little things?”
“She gave me a necklace.”
Daniel frowned.
“A necklace?”
Sophie nodded.
“A pretty one.”
“Where is it?”
“In my backpack.”
Daniel remembered the backpack recovered from the crash.
It was sealed with the other personal belongings.
“Did Grandma say anything else?”
Sophie hesitated.
“She said I might be living with her soon.”
Daniel felt the blood drain from his face.
“When did she say that?”
“Yesterday.”
“Before the accident?”
Sophie nodded.
“She said Daddy would need help.”
Daniel leaned forward.
“What kind of help?”
Sophie's eyes filled.
“She said Mommy might not be around.”
For several seconds, Daniel couldn't speak.
Then he gently pulled his daughter into a careful hug.
“Listen to me, Sophie.”
She clung to him.
“You didn't do anything wrong.”
She began crying.
“Grandma said it was a secret.”
“I know.”
“Was I bad for telling?”
“No, sweetheart.”
He kissed her hair.
“Secrets that make you scared aren't secrets you have to keep.”
She cried harder.
“Daddy, I miss Mommy.”
Daniel closed his eyes.
“So do I.”
That night, Eleanor watched the news.
The local station showed footage of Miller's Ridge.
A reporter described the accident as a serious collision under investigation.
Then the report mentioned possible mechanical tampering.
Eleanor turned off the television.
Her breathing quickened.
She called Vanessa.
No answer.
She called again.
Still nothing.
Finally, she sent a message.
We need to talk.
Vanessa replied ten minutes later.
Don't contact me again.
Eleanor stared at the words.
Then the doorbell rang.
She looked at the clock.
9:14 p.m.
Too late for visitors.
She approached the front door.
Through the glass, she could see two people standing on the porch.
Detective Hale.
Trooper Ellis.
Hale held a document.
“Mrs. Whitmore,” he called.
“We have a warrant.”
May you like
Eleanor closed her eyes.
For the first time, she wondered whether she had underestimated her son's wife.
