Chapter 7 - Practice
We watched the video in Marcus’s office.
I almost wish we hadn’t.
The timestamp was 2:11 a.m., three months earlier.
Noah was eight weeks old, asleep in his bassinet.
Vanessa entered the nursery.
At first, she only stood over him.
Then she lifted him, carried him to the changing table, and placed him near the edge.
My stomach twisted.
She stepped back.
Waited.
Moved him closer to the edge.
Waited again.
Tessa’s voice trembled beside me. “I came in before anything happened.”
On screen, Tessa rushed into frame and lifted Noah away.
Vanessa began arguing with her. There was no audio, but the body language was clear.
Tessa paused the video.
“She told me she was testing the monitor angle.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“She said you knew.”
I looked at her.
Tessa cried harder. “Then she showed me a text from your number saying I was unstable and you were planning to fire me. She offered me six months’ pay if I resigned quietly.”
“I never sent that.”
“I know that now.”
Vanessa sat in the next room with a police officer.
Rachel arrived and watched the footage once.
Then she said, “This is enough to justify emergency protective measures, but we still need to understand motive.”
“I know the motive.” I showed her the trust copy.
Rachel shook her head. “That clause doesn’t exist anymore.”
“Vanessa may not know that.”
Marcus tapped at the keyboard.
“There’s more.”
He pulled up access logs from the nursery camera.
Multiple clips had been deleted over the last four months.
Every deletion came from the same administrator account.
Mine.
Emma stood outside the office with a policewoman. She was coloring, but she kept looking through the glass.
I thought about every time I’d told her she was imagining things.
Every time Vanessa said Emma was acting out.
Every time I chose peace over one more uncomfortable question.
Rachel touched my arm. “Daniel, don’t do that to yourself right now.”
“I left her alone with them.”
“You didn’t know.”
“I should have.”
Marcus suddenly stopped typing.
“What?” I asked.
He turned the monitor toward me.
There was one deleted file we had not accounted for.
It wasn’t from the nursery.
It was from Emma’s bedroom.
May you like
Recorded six nights ago.
At 3:04 a.m.
