Chapter 2 - THE CAMERA IN THE WALL
I left two security officers outside Clara’s room.
Then I drove home with Marcus on speakerphone.
By the time I arrived, the dining room had been cleared.
The overturned table remained where I had left it.
Broken crystal glittered across the marble.
Wine stained the rug.
Pieces of lobster shell lay beneath chairs.
The room looked like the aftermath of a disaster.
It was fitting.
Marcus stood beside the far wall.
One decorative air vent had been removed.
Inside was a miniature camera.
“Who installed it?”
“We don’t know yet.”
“Does it store locally?”
“No.”
“Then where does it send the footage?”
“We traced the signal to a server in the house.”
“Where?”
Marcus looked toward the second floor.
“Your mother’s sitting room.”
We walked upstairs.
Eleanor’s private sitting room was decorated with framed photographs of Julian and me.
No photographs of Clara.
I had never noticed that before.
Marcus opened a cabinet behind a row of antique books.
Inside was a small network recorder.
Four camera feeds appeared on the connected monitor.
Dining room.
Kitchen.
Main hallway.
Guest bedroom.
Clara’s guest bedroom.
My blood ran cold.
“Why is there a camera in that room?”
Marcus did not answer.
He did not need to.
During the last month of my business travel, Clara had sometimes slept there because climbing the stairs to our bedroom had become difficult.
Someone had been watching her sleep.
“Download everything.”
“We already started.”
“How far back?”
“At least ninety days.”
I turned toward the doorway.
My younger brother Julian was standing there.
He looked pale.
“What happened here?”
I walked toward him.
“Where is Mom?”
“I don’t know.”
“Try again.”
His eyes narrowed.
“Why are you talking to me like that?”
“Because your mother nearly killed my wife and my son.”
Julian’s face changed.
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“She would never—”
I grabbed his shoulder and pulled him toward the monitor.
A recorded clip was playing.
Clara sat alone at the kitchen island.
My mother stood across from her.
The date showed six weeks earlier.
Eleanor placed a bowl of soup in front of Clara.
Then she picked it up again before Clara could touch it.
My mother’s voice came clearly through the speakers.
“You already had breakfast.”
Clara answered quietly.
“That was yesterday.”
Eleanor laughed.
“You’re dramatic.”
“I’m hungry.”
“You’re huge.”
“The baby is huge.”
“You don’t need all those extra calories.”
Clara reached for the bowl.
Eleanor slapped her hand away.
Julian stopped moving.
The clip continued.
“Sebastian works sixteen-hour days while you sit around eating.”
Clara whispered, “He told me to rest.”
“He tells you what keeps you calm.”
Then my mother leaned closer.
“Do you really think my son still finds you attractive?”
Julian stepped back.
“Turn it off.”
“No.”
I played another clip.
Clara was kneeling in the hallway.
My mother had dropped a shopping bag.
“Pick it up.”
“I’m dizzy.”
“Then crawl.”
Julian covered his mouth.
I looked at him.
“You lived ten minutes away.”
“I didn’t know.”
“You had lunch with her twice a week.”
“I didn’t know.”
“Did you know she was spending my money?”
Julian looked confused.
“What money?”
Marcus handed me a preliminary statement.
My credit card had been charged nearly $190,000 in twelve weeks.
Designer clothing.
Jewelry.
Restaurants.
A luxury spa.
Nothing for Clara.
I looked at Julian.
“Did Mom buy you anything?”
His silence answered.
“What?”
“A watch.”
“How much?”
“I don’t know.”
“Take it off.”
“Sebastian.”
“Take it off.”
He removed a gold watch from his wrist.
Marcus searched the model.
“Thirty-eight thousand dollars.”
Julian stared at it as if seeing it for the first time.
“She said it was from her savings.”
I laughed once.
My mother had used money I gave her to care for my pregnant wife to buy my brother a thirty-eight-thousand-dollar watch.
Then Marcus received a call.
He listened.
His expression hardened.
“We found Mrs. Vance.”
“Where?”
“At the Peninsula Hotel.”
“Alone?”
“No.”
“Who is with her?”
Marcus looked at Julian.
“An attorney.”
I already knew the name before he said it.
“Gerald Knox.”
Julian whispered it first.
Our family attorney.
The man who had handled my father’s estate.
The man who had known us since childhood.
Marcus nodded.
I looked back at the monitor.
If Eleanor had called Gerald before calling either of her sons, she was not panicking.
May you like
She was preparing.
The question was what she had been preparing for long before I came home that morning.
