Chapter 2 - Eight Missing Minutes
Richard did not move for several seconds.
Downstairs, applause swelled as some donor reached the ballroom podium. Through the walls came the muffled hum of elegant people congratulating one another under his roof.
On the monitor, eight minutes were gone.
"Show me the access log," Richard said.
Ellis hesitated. "Sir, the nursery camera is on a protected subnet. Only three control points can disable it. Main security, your study, and the local wall panel inside the nursery."
"Was the wall panel used?"
"Yes."
"By code?"
Ellis nodded.
"Whose code?"
A few keystrokes.
Then Ellis went still.
"Yours."
Richard looked at him.
"That's impossible."
"I know."
Richard had not given Victoria his private security code. He had not given it to staff. The number was tied to an old date only Eleanor would have recognized.
His wedding anniversary.
The first one.
He stared at the screen until the digits blurred.
"Copy the logs to an external drive," he said. "Do not tell anyone."
Ellis nodded.
"And lock the control room behind me."
Richard returned to the nursery.
Victoria was gone.
Mrs. Gable sat beside Maya's bed. The little girl had changed into pajamas and clutched a stuffed rabbit by one ear.
Richard crouched.
"Sweetheart, Daddy needs to ask you something."
Maya watched him with swollen eyes.
At two, her vocabulary came in fragments. Colors. Names. Demands. Half-sentences that sometimes meant more than their grammar could carry.
"Did someone scare you?"
Maya pressed the rabbit to her mouth.
"Did Victoria scare you?"
Mrs. Gable shifted sharply.
Maya's eyes snapped toward the door.
Then she whispered one word.
"Dark."
Richard's stomach tightened.
"What was dark?"
Maya pointed toward the walk-in closet beside the changing table.
"There?"
She nodded.
Mrs. Gable closed her eyes.
Richard rose.
"Open it."
The nanny did not move.
"Mrs. Gable. Open the closet."
She stood slowly and crossed the room.
The closet was large enough to hold an adult wardrobe. Tiny dresses hung on one side. Shelves of folded blankets lined the other.
Nothing looked wrong.
Then Richard noticed scratches near the inside edge of the door.
Low scratches.
At toddler height.
He opened the door wider.
The interior handle had been removed.
Four screw holes remained.
Richard turned.
Mrs. Gable had gone pale.
"How long?"
She looked at Maya.
"How long has that handle been missing?"
"Three weeks."
Richard felt something cold travel through his chest.
"Why wasn't I told?"
Mrs. Gable's chin trembled.
"Because I was told it was being repaired."
"By whom?"
Silence.
"By whom?"
"Mrs. Sterling."
Richard walked into the closet.
It smelled faintly of cedar, baby powder, and something metallic.
He shut the door behind himself.
Darkness.
Not total. A thin line of light showed beneath the threshold.
He imagined Maya inside.
Two years old.
Unable to open the door.
He pushed it open and nearly collided with Mrs. Gable.
"Has Victoria ever put her in there?"
The nanny's eyes filled.
"I never saw it."
"That is not what I asked."
"I heard crying once."
Richard stopped breathing.
"When?"
"Last Tuesday. I came in from the laundry room. Mrs. Sterling was standing near the closet. She said Maya had crawled in while playing and frightened herself."
"And you believed her?"
The question was cruel. He knew it immediately.
Mrs. Gable's expression hardened with shame.
"I wanted to."
That answer struck harder because it was his answer too.
He returned to Maya and sat beside her.
"No more dark closet," he said.
Maya stared at him.
"No dark," she repeated.
He took her hand.
"Never again."
The nursery door opened.
Victoria stood there.
She had repaired her makeup.
Her smile was calm.
"There you are," she said. "Everyone is asking for you."
Richard looked at her as if seeing her face for the first time.
"Why is the inside handle missing from Maya's closet?"
Victoria blinked.
One beat.
Two.
Then concern softened her mouth.
"Oh, that. It came loose. I asked maintenance to replace it."
"Three weeks ago?"
"I suppose."
"Why didn't they?"
"You'd have to ask maintenance."
Richard stood.
Victoria studied him.
"What's wrong?"
He wanted to accuse her.
Instead, he heard Eleanor's voice from years earlier: Never show someone the card you plan to play.
So he smiled.
"Nothing."
Victoria relaxed almost imperceptibly.
"Good. Senator Hale is waiting."
Richard kissed Maya.
"Mrs. Gable stays with her. No one else."
Victoria's eyes sharpened.
"Of course."
They walked downstairs together.
At the ballroom doors, she slipped her arm through his.
Cameras flashed as they entered.
Richard smiled for photographs.
He shook hands.
He thanked donors.
He toasted childhood literacy and community shelters while his mind replayed four screw holes in a closet door.
Twenty minutes later, Ellis appeared at the edge of the room.
He did not approach.
He simply touched two fingers to his jacket pocket.
The external drive.
Richard excused himself and met him in a service corridor.
"There's more," Ellis whispered.
"What?"
"I checked the nursery's local panel history. The camera has been disabled fourteen times in the last month."
Richard's jaw tightened.
"Using my code?"
"Every time."
"Any pattern?"
Ellis looked toward the ballroom.
"Yes."
He handed Richard a printed log.
Every shutdown occurred while Richard was away from the estate.
Except tonight.
At the bottom of the page, one line had been circled.
A system note.
LOCAL MICROPHONE INPUT ACTIVE DURING VIDEO DISABLE.
May you like
Richard stared.
"The camera went dark," Ellis said, "but the nursery microphone kept recording."
