Chapter 3 - The Camera Outside the Nursery
Luca read the words twice.
Then he looked at Marco.
“Bring that cooler here.”
“Police should process it first.”
“Then get the police.”
“They're already on the way.”
Genevieve sank into a chair.
“Oh God.”
Luca looked at her.
“What?”
“I saw that cooler.”
“When?”
“Yesterday.”
“Where?”
“In Damien's office.”
“And you said nothing?”
“I thought it contained medical samples.”
“Everything in this house apparently becomes harmless the moment you decide not to ask a question.”
She flinched.
He immediately regretted it.
I saw that too.
But he did not apologize.
There was too much fear in him.
Dr. Keller moved Matteo back to the crib and began another examination.
The baby was more responsive now.
Still weak.
Still in danger.
But different.
The longer the unauthorized drugs cleared his system, the more life seemed to return.
That terrified Luca in a new way.
Because improvement was evidence.
Evidence meant this might never have been an unstoppable disease.
Someone might have been making his son sick.
By sunrise, county detectives had arrived.
Luca hated losing control of the investigation.
I could see it every time Detective Sarah Monroe asked him to wait outside a room he owned.
“You cannot seal evidence yourself,” she told him.
“This is my house.”
“And this is potentially a crime scene.”
“My son is upstairs.”
“I know.”
“Then move faster.”
She stared at him without blinking.
“Money doesn't make laboratories work faster, Mr. Rossi.”
His mouth tightened.
“No. It usually does.”
She almost smiled.
I liked her immediately.
The cooler arrived at 6:20 a.m.
Inside were medical syringes, two small amber bottles, disposable gloves, and a sealed vial.
One amber bottle contained midazolam.
The other contained digoxin.
The vial contained something no one immediately identified.
There was also a folded piece of paper.
Not a prescription.
A schedule.
Dates.
Times.
Initials.
M.R.
Matteo Rossi.
Next to each date was a number.
The earliest entry was fourteen days earlier.
The exact day Matteo's unexplained decline began.
Luca stood behind the detective while she photographed it.
“Those are doses.”
Dr. Keller nodded grimly.
“It appears so.”
“Enough to kill him?”
“Some of those numbers could be dangerous depending on concentration.”
Detective Monroe looked at Genevieve.
“Who besides you administered medication?”
“Nurses.”
“Names.”
She provided four.
“All vetted?” Monroe asked.
Marco answered.
“Extensively.”
“Background checks can tell you what someone did before today. Not what they're willing to do today.”
Luca looked toward the window.
“Damien hired two of them.”
Everyone turned.
Marco nodded reluctantly.
“He recommended the staffing agency.”
Detective Monroe wrote that down.
“Who is Damien Cole?”
“My executive assistant,” Luca said.
“How long?”
“Six years.”
“Access to family matters?”
“Yes.”
“Finances?”
“Some.”
“Medical information?”
“Since Matteo became ill, yes.”
“Security systems?”
“Emergency administrative access.”
She closed her notebook.
“Then finding Mr. Cole just became the priority.”
I should have been relieved.
Instead, something bothered me.
The hallway camera.
If Damien had planned everything carefully enough to manipulate medication, why leave a cooler in his own car with Matteo's name written across it?
That was not clever.
That was almost theatrical.
I said so.
Everyone looked at me.
Luca frowned.
“Explain.”
“If Damien wanted to hurt Matteo and disappear, why leave the evidence labeled?”
Detective Monroe's eyes sharpened.
“Good question.”
Marco folded his arms.
“Maybe he panicked.”
“Maybe,” I said.
“But someone who manipulated medical treatment for two weeks didn't suddenly forget how evidence works.”
Luca stared at the cooler.
“You think he's being framed.”
“I think we don't know.”
Genevieve whispered, “Damien loved Matteo.”
Luca looked at her.
“You thought unauthorized sedatives were fine too.”
She dropped her eyes.
I felt sorry for her.
But Luca was not wrong.
Trust had nearly killed his son.
That morning, investigators questioned everyone.
Including me.
Detective Monroe asked why I had been hired.
“Temporary housekeeping.”
“Through which agency?”
“Crown Domestic Staffing.”
“References?”
“Yes.”
“Any previous connection to the Rossi family?”
“No.”
“Why were you working near the nursery?”
“Genevieve reassigned me after one of the regular housekeepers got sick.”
“What kind of sick?”
“I don't know.”
Her pen stopped.
“When?”
“Three days ago.”
“Name?”
“Lillian Moore.”
Detective Monroe wrote it down.
Then she asked, “Have you worked with infants?”
That question made me pause.
“Yes.”
“Professionally?”
“No.”
“Personally?”
I stared at my hands.
“My younger sister had a baby when I was nineteen.”
“Had?”
“He died.”
Her expression softened.
“How old?”
“Five months.”
“What happened?”
“Congenital heart defect.”
“I'm sorry.”
I nodded.
It had been twelve years.
Some losses do not become smaller.
You just become stronger around them.
“My sister fell apart afterward,” I said. “I helped care for him during his last months.”
“That explains why you recognized Matteo choking.”
“Yes.”
“And why you remained calm with a gun pointed at you?”
I almost laughed.
“I wasn't calm.”
“You looked calm.”
“Those aren't the same thing.”
She smiled faintly.
“Fair.”
When I left the interview room, Luca was waiting.
“You never told me.”
“Told you what?”
“About your nephew.”
“You never asked.”
His gaze dropped.
“Right.”
He seemed different in daylight.
Still intimidating.
But tired beyond reason.
“You should sleep,” I said.
“So should you.”
“I wasn't the one awake for two weeks.”
He looked toward the staircase.
“I can't sleep if he's alone.”
“He isn't.”
“I know.”
His eyes met mine.
“That is the only reason I might.”
Before I could answer, Marco approached.
“We found something on the restored video.”
Luca instantly straightened.
“What?”
“Not the nursery camera. A reflection.”
“What reflection?”
“The decorative mirror at the east staircase caught part of the hallway.”
We went to the security office.
Marco pulled up footage.
At 9:08 p.m., four minutes before the nursery camera went dark, someone entered the hallway.
Damien.
No question.
His face was visible.
He carried the white cooler.
At 9:10, Genevieve appeared.
Damien handed her something small.
Probably the sedative.
Then he continued toward the nursery.
At 9:11, another person entered the far end of the corridor.
A woman.
Nurse's uniform.
Face partly hidden.
Dr. Keller leaned toward the screen.
“That's Rebecca.”
“Rebecca who?” Luca asked.
“Rebecca Sloan. Night nurse.”
Marco enlarged the frame.
The image blurred.
But something became visible.
Rebecca was holding a syringe.
At 9:12, the camera stopped.
At 9:13, Damien reappeared in the mirror.
He was no longer carrying the cooler.
He looked agitated.
At 9:15, he was on his phone.
At 9:18, he left the corridor.
“What happened between 9:12 and 9:13?” Luca asked.
“No camera angle,” Marco said.
“Where is Rebecca now?”
Detective Monroe answered from the doorway.
“We don't know.”
Luca turned.
“What do you mean?”
“She was scheduled until midnight.”
“She left?”
“At 9:26.”
“Why?”
“According to the log, family emergency.”
Luca looked at Genevieve.
“Who approved it?”
She looked confused.
“I didn't.”
Marco checked his screen.
“Authorization came from Mr. Cole.”
There it was again.
Damien.
Too much evidence.
Too clean.
Detective Monroe apparently felt the same.
“Get me Rebecca's address.”
Marco did.
Police went there.
Apartment empty.
Phone disconnected.
No car.
No clothing in the closet.
She had left deliberately.
At noon, we learned something stranger.
Crown Domestic Staffing had no employee named Rebecca Sloan.
The nursing license she provided belonged to a real woman in Ohio who had never been to North Carolina.
A false identity.
Luca looked ready to tear the estate apart with his hands.
“How did she pass our screening?”
Marco looked humiliated.
“Her documentation was flawless.”
“Nothing is flawless.”
“It passed state verification.”
“Then someone had access.”
Detective Monroe nodded.
“Possibly.”
Dr. Keller entered the room.
He carried a printed report.
“What now?” Luca asked.
Keller placed it down.
“The unidentified vial from the cooler.”
“Yes?”
“It contains saline.”
Luca frowned.
“Just saline?”
“Yes.”
“So why seal it?”
“I don't know.”
The detective looked at the medication schedule.
“Could be used to dilute something.”
Keller nodded.
“Possibly.”
I noticed a handwritten mark at the bottom of the schedule.
A tiny triangle.
I had seen it before.
“Wait.”
Everyone looked at me.
I took out my phone.
“What?”
“The mark.”
I zoomed in on a photograph I had taken three days earlier.
I had photographed the household duty board because Genevieve kept changing schedules and I did not want to miss an assignment.
At the bottom corner of the board was the same small triangle.
Next to an entry:
MEDICAL DELIVERY — D.C.
Luca stared.
“Damien Cole?”
“Maybe.”
Marco shook his head.
“His initials are DC.”
I enlarged the picture.
The handwriting looked similar.
But not identical.
Then something else caught my eye.
A reflection in the polished frame beside the duty board.
Someone was standing behind me when I took the photograph.
I had not noticed at the time.
A woman.
White uniform.
Rebecca.
And she was not looking at me.
She was looking directly at the schedule.
Detective Monroe took my phone.
“Can you enlarge this?”
Marco transferred the image to his system.
The reflection sharpened.
Rebecca's face remained partly visible.
So did her hand.
She was holding a key card.
A black card with a silver stripe.
Marco leaned closer.
“That isn't a staff key.”
Luca turned.
“What is it?”
“Executive access.”
“How many exist?”
“Four.”
“Mine.”
“Yes.”
“Yours.”
“Yes.”
“Genevieve.”
“Yes.”
“And Damien.”
Marco nodded.
Luca looked at the screen.
“Which card is she holding?”
Marco zoomed farther.
A tiny identification number appeared along the edge.
His face went blank.
“What?”
Luca stepped closer.
“Whose?”
Marco did not answer immediately.
Then he looked straight at Luca.
“That card belongs to you.”
The room went silent.
Luca reached automatically toward his wallet.
He opened it.
His executive access card was still inside.
Detective Monroe stared.
“Then somebody made a copy.”
Marco shook his head.
“Our system doesn't allow duplicates.”
“Apparently it does.”
“No. Each physical card has a unique encrypted chip.”
“What happens if two cards with the same identity are used?”
“It logs both.”
“Check.”
Marco typed.
The records loaded.
One card had been used in the nursery corridor at 9:12.
Luca's.
Another had been used three minutes later in Luca's private office.
Also Luca's.
He stared at the screen.
“That is impossible.”
Marco scrolled farther.
Then suddenly stopped.
His face changed.
“What?”
“There are older entries.”
“How old?”
“Fourteen days.”
The day Matteo became sick.
Marco opened the log.
Every night, between 8:30 and 10:00, Luca's credentials had accessed the medical wing.
Except Luca had been in meetings, hospitals, or sitting beside his son during most of those times.
Someone had not merely copied a card.
They had been moving through the estate as Luca Rossi.
Then Marco opened one final security file.
A biometric override had been used to authorize the duplicate credentials.
Fingerprint approval.
Luca's fingerprint.
He stared at the screen.
“I never approved this.”
Marco looked at him.
“Sir, there is only one place anyone could have copied that print at full resolution.”
Luca slowly turned toward the hallway leading downstairs.
His private office.
He took one step.
Then Detective Monroe's phone rang.
She answered.
Listened.
And went completely still.
“Where?”
Everyone watched her.
She ended the call.
“We found Damien Cole.”
Luca moved toward her.
“Alive?”
She looked at him.
“Yes.”
“Then bring him here.”
Monroe's expression did not change.
“He is already here.”
A knock sounded from the locked security-office door.
Three slow knocks.
May you like
Then Damien's voice came from the other side.
“Luca, don't open this door until you hear what I found.”
