Chapter 6
There should have been a camera view of the bathroom hallway.
Daniel knew it because he'd paid for the security system after Lena died. The installer had recommended a camera outside the master suite, away from the bathroom itself, to record anyone entering or leaving the corridor. Daniel had agreed, then never opened the monitoring app again.
A specialist retained by Rebecca reviewed the system with the estate manager's permission and proper documentation. The hallway camera had been taken offline at 2:11 p.m. on the day of the incident.
Before viewing the logs, Daniel had been tempted to replay the entry footage until he could find an expression that explained everything. The specialist discouraged that. Footage was good at showing who passed a lens, not what someone intended. The hallway system had never looked inside the bathroom, and no one would pretend it did.
The front camera did, however, show the maintenance worker arriving that morning. He carried a toolbox and left after forty minutes. That visit matched June's notes. The specialist exported the relevant clips with time stamps and documented how the originals were stored. Daniel's instincts told him to send everything to Thomas and demand an explanation. Rebecca advised preservation and formal disclosure instead.
“Evidence isn't a weapon you swing when you're upset,” she said. “It's something we must be able to explain later.”
Daniel shut the laptop. He knew almost nothing about handling evidence properly. For once, rather than pretending to be in control, he let qualified people do their jobs while insisting they report the facts accurately. The front entry camera remained active and showed Daniel arriving at 3:46, two hours earlier than his calendar predicted.
“That's why Vivienne sounded surprised,” Daniel said.
The specialist pointed to an administrative log. Someone had scheduled the hallway camera for a temporary service interruption. The account used belonged to Miles Mercer's office.
“Does that prove he did it?” Daniel asked.
“It shows that credentials associated with that office submitted the instruction,” the specialist said. “We'd need more to identify the person at the keyboard.”
Daniel hated the distinction. He needed it.
The next morning, a detective interviewed June again. She described hearing Nora shout from the bathroom and discovering that the exterior thumb-turn had been replaced by a keyed lock. Vivienne told her it was a privacy upgrade. June had tried the key from the housekeeping ring and found it didn't fit.
She also remembered a maintenance worker arriving before breakfast. He wore a company jacket, carried a narrow toolbox, and spoke with Vivienne in the kitchen. June couldn't identify him confidently, but she had written the service company name in the daily household book.
The entry read: M. Mercer—urgent hardware visit authorized.
“Why didn't you tell the police this yesterday?” the detective asked.
“I didn't know it mattered until Nora mentioned the door,” June said. “I was trying to tell you about the lighter.”
The detective thanked her for correcting the timeline. No one treated the memory as proof on its own.
At the hotel, Daniel told Nora he was arranging for them to live somewhere safe while investigators worked. She examined a photograph of a furnished rental with plain walls and a small yard.
“Is June coming?”
“She can visit. And if she wants the work, we can arrange it with a proper contract.”
“Can I choose my room?”
“Yes.”
Nora pointed to the smallest bedroom. “That one. The window looks out, not into another room.”
Daniel almost suggested the larger room. Then he stopped. Control of the window mattered to her in a way square footage didn't.
That afternoon, Miles finally called him. His voice was smooth, faintly weary.
“This public response is disproportionate, Daniel. We all want what's best for Nora.”
“Why did your office take the hallway camera offline?”
A silence followed, just long enough to hear somebody on Miles's end close a door.
“Routine maintenance.”
“And the new bathroom lock?”
“Household management isn't my specialty.”
“Your name is on the work authorization.”
Miles sighed. “You're not thinking clearly. Your brother is concerned about your capacity to administer the trust under this kind of emotional strain.”
Daniel looked at the framed photograph of Nora on his desk. She had been five, missing a front tooth, laughing so hard she couldn't look at the camera.
“I have counsel now,” he said. “Contact Rebecca.”
May you like
Miles's voice hardened. “You don't understand what happens to Hawthorn if you make an enemy of your own co-trustee.”
For the first time, Daniel understood that the man wasn't trying to calm him. He was negotiating from a threat.
