Chapter 3: What the Cameras Remembered
Dominic read the message a second time.
Then he set the phone face-down on the table.
"Samuel."
Mercer was still standing near the equipment rack, his hands pressed flat against his thighs.
He hadn't moved since Dominic had read the message.
"Who else knew about the nerve damage timeline?"
"My staff.
The surgical team.
The rehabilitation—"
"Who outside this estate?"
Mercer's mouth opened.
Closed.
"Samuel.
I will ask once more."
"I filed a standard progress report.
Three weeks ago.
It goes to the organization's medical liaison as a matter of protocol."
"And the medical liaison reports to?"
The doctor's eyes moved toward the glass doors.
Dominic didn't need him to answer.
Arthur Voss had held the medical liaison appointment for eleven years.
Vincent returned from the security room carrying a laptop.
He set it open on the table without sitting down.
"I found the access log."
"The man on the footage."
"His badge was registered to a contractor.
Rehabilitation equipment maintenance.
But the contract was terminated eight months ago." Vincent turned the screen.
"Someone reactivated his credentials yesterday morning.
Six hours before he walked down that hallway."
"From which terminal?"
"The estate administrative office."
"Who has access to that office?"
"Household staff.
Senior security.
Council members when they're in residence." Vincent paused.
"Arthur arrived yesterday at nine a.m."
The conference room was still visible through the glass.
Arthur had not moved from the head of the table.
He was speaking quietly to the man on his left — a council member named Harlan Briggs, who had been with the organization for twenty-two years and had voted with Arthur on every contested issue for the last four.
Dominic watched them.
"Pull everything Briggs has signed in the last six months."
Vincent looked up.
"You think Briggs is part of it?"
"I think Arthur doesn't do anything alone."
Clare shifted in the corner.
Ellie stirred against her shoulder, then settled again without waking.
Clare looked at Dominic with the careful expression of someone who understood they were inside something dangerous and had decided the safest move was absolute stillness.
Dominic respected that.
"Mrs.
Rowan."
She straightened immediately.
"Sir."
"The man Ellie saw.
Did you see anyone in that hallway yesterday between eleven and noon?"
"I was in the linen room.
The door was mostly closed."
"Mostly."
Clare hesitated.
"I heard footsteps.
I assumed it was one of the technicians.
They come and go during rehabilitation hours." She paused.
"I didn't look out."
"But you heard them."
"Yes."
"One set of footsteps or two?"
Clare's expression shifted.
Something she hadn't considered until this moment.
"Two," she said quietly.
"There were two."
Vincent's eyes moved to Dominic.
Dominic said nothing.
He picked up his phone and dialed.
It rang four times before the line connected.
"This is Lena Voss." Arthur's daughter.
The organization's legal counsel for the past six years.
Her voice was careful and completely awake despite the hour.
"Lena.
I need you in the great room."
A pause.
"It's almost eleven, Dominic."
"I know what time it is."
Another pause.
Longer.
"I'll be there in five minutes," she said.
The line went quiet.
Vincent leaned close.
"You're bringing her in?"
"She drew up the transfer documents."
"Which means she either helped him or she doesn't know what she helped him do."
"Exactly." Dominic looked toward the conference room.
"Either way, I need to know which one."
Arthur glanced up at that moment.
Through the glass, his eyes found Dominic's.
He smiled again.
Smaller this time.
More careful.
Dominic turned away.
On the table, his phone lit up again.
Same unknown number.
No message this time.
Just a photograph.
Clare's home address.
Her daughter's name written beneath it in plain text.
Dominic's hand closed around the phone.
He did not show it to Vincent.
Not yet.
May you like
He looked at Clare across the room — at the sleeping child against her shoulder, at the latch toy still clutched in Ellie's small fist — and made a decision that had nothing to do with the council, the documents, or the vote.
Whatever happened tonight, those two were not leaving the estate.
