Chapter 2 - The Camera
Daniel stood beneath the hospital's fluorescent lights with his phone pressed against his ear.
"Yes," he said. "There are cameras."
The officer asked him something.
Daniel looked at me.
"One faces the kennel."
My stomach tightened.
"Then they have it," I whispered.
Daniel nodded.
But he didn't look relieved.
He looked afraid.
We had installed those cameras eight months earlier after several packages disappeared from his parents' porch. Daniel had helped his father mount them himself.
There were four cameras.
One faced the driveway.
One faced the back door.
One faced the side yard.
And one faced the kennel.
The fourth camera had always seemed unnecessary to me.
Now it might be the only thing that could tell us what happened to our daughter.
The officer told Daniel they were sending someone to retrieve the footage.
Daniel asked if we could return home.
The officer said no.
"Stay at the hospital."
So we waited.
For nearly an hour, nobody spoke about Richard.
Then the doctor came through the doors.
I stood immediately.
"How is she?"
The doctor gave us a careful look.
"Your daughter is stable."
My knees nearly gave out.
Daniel caught my arm.
"Stable?"
"Yes. She's receiving treatment and we're monitoring her closely."
I pressed a hand over my mouth.
Tears finally came.
Not the screaming kind.
Just silent tears.
Daniel hugged me.
For the first time since the kennel, I let myself breathe.
Then the doctor added:
"She will need continued observation."
I nodded.
"Thank you."
After he left, Daniel sat beside me.
"My father told me something before the police arrived."
"What?"
"He said the kennel gate must have been left open."
I looked at him.
"It wasn't."
"I know."
"I closed it when we arrived."
Daniel stared at the floor.
"That's what I remember too."
Silence settled between us.
Then his phone vibrated.
A message from the police.
They had retrieved the footage.
Daniel opened the message.
There was a short video attached.
He pressed play.
The screen showed his parents' backyard.
The timestamp was visible.
2:14 p.m.
Our arrival.
2:19 p.m.
Daniel carrying groceries.
2:21 p.m.
Me walking toward the kitchen.
2:22 p.m.
I disappeared inside.
The camera showed Richard sitting near the kennel.
He was alone.
Daniel stopped the video.
My heart was pounding.
"Keep going."
He pressed play.
At 2:23 p.m., Richard stood.
He looked toward the house.
Then toward the kennel.
He walked out of frame.
The screen went empty for several seconds.
Then Richard returned.
But he wasn't alone.
He was carrying something.
Daniel froze.
I leaned closer.
It was our daughter's bassinet blanket.
"That's her blanket."
Daniel nodded.
Richard walked toward the kennel.
Then he looked directly at the house.
As if checking whether someone was watching.
He disappeared behind the fence.
My fingers went cold.
"What is he doing?"
Daniel didn't answer.
The video continued.
At 2:24 p.m., Richard stepped back into view.
His hands were empty.
He closed the kennel gate.
Then he locked it.
I covered my mouth.
Daniel stopped the recording.
Neither of us spoke.
The officer sent another message.
There was more footage.
"Play it," I whispered.
Daniel did.
The next thirty seconds showed Richard walking back toward the house.
He didn't hurry.
He didn't look worried.
He simply went inside.
Three seconds later, the baby screamed.
The footage ended.
I stared at Daniel.
"He knew."
Daniel's face had gone completely still.
"He knew she was in there."
The hospital door opened.
A police officer entered.
He looked at Daniel.
"We need to speak with both of you."
Daniel stood.
"What about my father?"
The officer's expression hardened.
"We already have officers at the house."
"Did you arrest him?"
"Not yet."
"Why?"
The officer hesitated.
"Because he has just given us another statement."
Daniel frowned.
"What did he say?"
The officer looked directly at him.
"He says you put the baby in the kennel."
Daniel stopped breathing.
And then the officer placed a printed photograph on the table.
It showed my husband standing beside the kennel.
Taken just three minutes before our daughter began screaming.
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But Daniel had never been there.
At least, that's what he believed.
