Chapter 2 - The Room They Said Didn’t Exist
The next morning, Daniel shoved a photograph across the hospital cafeteria table and said:
“Tell me why your daughter was in this room.”
The photograph showed a silver serving tray beside a broken golf club.
A dark stain covered both.
And written on the wall behind them was Brooke’s name.
I stopped breathing.
Daniel sat across from me with two coffees neither of us had touched.
“How did you get this?”
“Warrant came through at two thirteen.”
“You searched the mansion?”
“Part of it.”
“Part?”
He looked exhausted.
“The Vance attorneys challenged everything. We got access to the main floor, garage, security system, and exterior structures.”
“And the silver room?”
“That’s the problem.”
I stared at the photograph.
“Brooke said those words.”
“I know.”
“Victoria reacted to the inventory number.”
“I know.”
“Then find it.”
“Elena, the mansion blueprints show no room officially designated by that name.”
“So the blueprint is wrong.”
“Possibly.”
I studied him.
“What aren’t you telling me?”
Daniel leaned back.
“When we entered the property last night, someone had already attempted to wipe the security server.”
“Trevor?”
“We don’t know.”
“You arrested him?”
“Not yet.”
I laughed once.
There was nothing funny in it.
“My daughter is in intensive care after being beaten nearly to death.”
“I need evidence that survives trial.”
“She identified him.”
“She was severely injured.”
“She identified Victoria too.”
“I believe her.”
“Then act like it.”
His jaw tightened.
“Believing someone and proving murder or attempted murder are not the same thing.”
“Attempted murder.”
“That’s what I’m building.”
I looked down at the photograph again.
The room had metal shelving.
Polished serving pieces.
Stacks of expensive catering equipment.
A broken golf club lay on the floor.
Only half was visible.
“What is this?”
“Still image from a security backup we recovered.”
“Inside the mansion?”
“Yes.”
“So there is a camera in the silver room.”
“Was.”
“Was?”
“Feed ends at 2:41 a.m.”
Brooke was found around five.
“What happened at 2:41?”
“Camera was physically disconnected.”
“Who disconnected it?”
“That’s what I’m trying to find out.”
I pushed the photograph back.
“Brooke said she hid a video.”
Daniel nodded.
“Did she say where?”
“Silver room.”
“Those were her exact words?”
“Yes.”
“Then she may have hidden a phone, memory card, or storage device there.”
I stood.
“Let’s go.”
“No.”
“Daniel.”
“You are not entering an active crime scene.”
“It’s my daughter’s evidence.”
“It’s evidence in a felony investigation.”
“I spent twelve years doing your job.”
“And that is exactly why you know I can’t let you contaminate it.”
He was right.
I hated him for being right.
“Then tell me what you found.”
Daniel’s phone vibrated.
He checked it.
His expression changed.
“What?”
He turned the screen away.
“Nothing.”
“You were always terrible at lying.”
He looked at me.
“Trevor hired Malcolm Price.”
That name hit differently.
“Price?”
“You know him?”
“Everybody in major crimes knew him.”
Malcolm Price had spent twenty-five years defending men who believed remorse was for people without money.
“He’s already claiming Brooke suffered an emotional episode,” Daniel continued. “Trevor says she became violent during an argument and left the property alone.”
“Five months pregnant. Barefoot. In a nightgown.”
“Price says she refused transportation.”
“And Victoria?”
“Same story.”
“Coordinated.”
“Yes.”
“Staff?”
“Housekeeper claims she heard shouting but saw nothing. Driver says he left at midnight. Security guard says he was monitoring the rear gate.”
“Convenient.”
“Very.”
I looked toward the elevator that led to Brooke’s floor.
“How is she?”
“Still awake?”
“On and off.”
“Has she given a formal statement?”
“Doctor won’t allow it yet.”
“Then we protect what she can remember.”
We rode upstairs.
Brooke looked smaller than she had the night before.
Bruising had deepened across one side of her face.
Her eyes opened when I touched her hand.
“Mom.”
“I’m here.”
Daniel remained near the door.
“Brooke, Daniel’s here.”
Her eyes moved toward him.
She recognized him.
“Hi, Brooke.”
She tried to smile.
It hurt.
“Do you remember what happened?”
Her breathing changed.
The monitor accelerated.
I squeezed her hand.
“No rush.”
Brooke looked at me.
“Silver.”
“We found the room.”
Her eyes widened.
“No.”
“What?”
“Not room.”
Daniel stepped closer.
“What do you mean?”
Brooke’s voice was barely audible.
“Silver tray.”
The tray.
I remembered the mark Brooke had mentioned beneath the bus shelter.
“There was something on it?”
She nodded.
“What?”
“Camera.”
Daniel and I looked at each other.
“A hidden camera?” he asked.
Brooke closed her eyes.
“Victoria... records staff.”
“Why?”
“She thinks they steal.”
Daniel pulled out a notebook.
“Where is the camera?”
“Tray cabinet.”
I leaned closer.
“And your video?”
Brooke opened her eyes again.
“I copied it.”
“To what?”
Her lips moved.
I couldn’t hear.
“What, baby?”
“Drive.”
“USB?”
A tiny nod.
“Where did you put it?”
Brooke’s eyes shifted toward the door.
Fear entered them.
“Don’t let Trevor know.”
“He won’t.”
“He knows.”
“How?”
“He saw me.”
The monitor sped up.
Daniel raised a hand.
“That’s enough.”
“No,” Brooke whispered.
“Brooke—”
“He looked at the tray.”
Her breath hitched.
“Then Mom...”
“Yes?”
“He smiled.”
“What did he say?”
Her fingers tightened weakly around mine.
“He said cameras only matter if someone gets to watch the footage.”
Daniel went completely still.
I felt cold.
Because that meant Trevor knew the attack had been recorded.
And if he knew, why hadn’t he destroyed the camera before Brooke copied it?
Unless he thought he had.
Brooke’s eyes started closing.
“Where’s the drive?”
She whispered something.
I lowered my ear.
“What?”
“Your house.”
My head lifted.
“What?”
“I mailed it.”
“When?”
“Yesterday.”
Before the assault.
“Why?”
“Because I knew.”
“Knew what?”
Her eyes closed.
The monitor settled.
She was asleep.
Daniel touched my shoulder.
“We need to secure your house.”
We left immediately.
Two detectives met us there.
Nothing looked disturbed from the street.
Front door locked.
Windows intact.
Daniel stopped me before I touched the handle.
“Wait.”
He checked the door frame.
Then crouched.
“What?”
“Scratch marks.”
I looked.
Fresh marks surrounded the lock.
Someone had tried to enter.
We went around back.
The kitchen window had been forced open.
Inside, drawers were pulled out.
Mail lay across the floor.
My bedroom had been searched.
Closet open.
Boxes emptied.
Nothing expensive was taken.
Not jewelry.
Not cash.
Not electronics.
Only mail.
“They were looking for the package,” I said.
Daniel nodded.
“Which means Brooke was right.”
One detective called from the hallway.
“Lieutenant.”
We followed him.
He stood beside the old sideboard near the front door.
A padded envelope was wedged beneath it.
Addressed to me.
No return address.
Daniel put on gloves.
“Could be it.”
He photographed the envelope.
Then opened it.
Inside was a small silver USB drive.
My heart hammered.
“There.”
Daniel placed it into an evidence bag.
His phone rang.
He answered.
“Reyes.”
His expression hardened.
“When?”
He looked at me.
“We’re on our way.”
“What happened?”
He ended the call.
“Someone just entered Brooke’s ICU room using a stolen staff badge.”
The room tilted.
“Who?”
“We don’t know.”
“Was she hurt?”
“A nurse interrupted them.”
“Who was it?”
“They ran.”
I was already moving toward the door.
Then Daniel’s phone buzzed again.
A photograph arrived.
He opened it.
I saw his face change.
“What?”
He showed me.
Hospital security footage.
A person wearing scrubs and a surgical mask leaving Brooke’s corridor.
The image was grainy.
But I knew the eyes.
I had seen them across the Vance dining table at Christmas.
Trevor’s younger sister.
Claire.
The woman who had supposedly moved to Europe eighteen months earlier.
Daniel enlarged the frame.
I stared.
May you like
Claire Vance was back.
And she had just tried to reach my daughter.
