Chapter 4
Detective Brooks listened without interrupting as Claire described the recording.
"Please don't edit or crop it," Brooks said. "Your neighbor can provide the original and a statement. I'd also like to know whether your home has a baby monitor."
"We have one in the nursery."
"Does it keep recordings?"
"Short clips when it detects motion or crying. Ethan set it up."
Brooks gave her a way to provide the account details and told her not to enter the house while the scene remained under review. There was no guarantee the recordings still existed. But Claire knew the app had sent alerts to her phone for weeks.
She opened it with Tessa beside her.
The first screen showed a sleeping crib from the night before. The next displayed a gray notice: Several events unavailable. Claire scrolled back to Tuesday. Between 8:45 and 9:30, the timeline was empty.
"Ethan said there was a software update," Claire murmured.
"When?"
"Tuesday afternoon. He said the camera might skip clips."
Tessa photographed the notice with Claire's permission. Then Claire checked the notification history on her phone. Even though the clips were missing, the old alerts remained.
The camera had been Claire's idea. On the first night home, Wren had made tiny restless noises that sent both parents hurrying down the hall. Ethan installed the device and showed Claire a cheerful demonstration, standing beside the empty crib and waving. "Now we'll always know what's happening," he promised. Claire remembered feeling grateful to have a partner who understood her fear. Seeing the missing Tuesday footage, she wondered when the same device had stopped being a window and become a curtain someone else could close.
8:57 a.m. Motion detected.
9:03 a.m. Crying detected.
9:07 a.m. Camera disconnected.
9:24 a.m. Camera reconnected.
Claire read the times twice. Margaret had crossed the driveway at 9:16. Ethan had been present. The camera had gone dark before either one appeared outside.
"He told me he was at a job site all morning," Claire said.
"We'll give Brooks the times," Tessa replied.
A memory surfaced: Claire had awakened Tuesday to a faint chemical smell in the hall. Margaret had said she'd cleaned the sink drain. Later that day, Claire had found the little red plunger beside the bathroom cabinet instead of under it.
The household owned two plungers. Margaret had bought the long-handled black one the previous week after announcing that the old red one was useless.
Claire had teased her for shopping for plumbing equipment as if it were a birthday present.
Now she felt sick remembering the laugh.
Brooks called back after reviewing the basic timeline. "We are following up on your neighbor's recording," she said. "I also want you to think carefully about any similar incident. Not a guess. Something you actually observed."
Claire opened the notes application where she tracked Wren's feedings. Mixed among the ordinary entries were small, irritated comments she'd written for herself and forgotten.
Sunday: Nursery door latched when I woke. Thought Ethan did it.
Tuesday: Wet blanket again. Ask Margaret why.
Thursday: Bottle in sink smelled like cleaner. Threw it away.
Her stomach tightened. She had never linked those moments. Exhaustion made every inconvenience feel like one more thing she was failing to manage.
"I wrote these before today," she told Brooks. "They're dated."
"Preserve the original notes," Brooks said. "Don't alter them. We'll discuss how to document them properly."
That evening, Claire sat beside Wren's bassinet while Tessa's husband and teenagers kept respectfully out of sight. On her phone, she zoomed in on a photograph she'd taken Sunday because Wren had smiled in her sleep.
In the background, reflected faintly in the nursery mirror, was the open door. A strip of dull brass appeared above the handle.
Claire remembered the strange click she'd heard two nights earlier.
The image had been taken for a perfectly ordinary reason. Wren had smiled at something invisible while she slept, and Claire had wanted to show Ethan. Now the corner of that same photograph made her question who had been able to move freely through the nursery while she was resting.
"I didn't put a bolt on that door," she whispered.
Tessa came to look. "Ethan did some work around your house last month, didn't he?"
"He replaced two loose hinges. That's what he said."
Claire sent the photograph to Brooks and turned the phone facedown. For several minutes she watched Wren breathe.
Then a new message arrived from Ethan.
I know you're looking through old clips. Please stop before you misunderstand something you can't take back.
May you like
Claire read the sentence carefully. She had told no one but Tessa and the detective about the clips.
Whatever Ethan knew, he knew before she asked.
