Chapter 2 - NOBODY TOUCHES THE CAMERADennis tried to close the door.
Officer Ellis stopped it with one hand.
Not dramatically.
Just enough.
“Mr. Hale, we need to speak with you.”
“What is this?”
“Your daughter has made an allegation regarding her fall.”
Dennis looked at me.
“What did you tell her?”
That sentence mattered.
Not:
Is Meadow okay?
Not:
What allegation?
What did you tell her?
I felt my body move forward.
Officer Webb put out an arm.
“Victoria.”
Right.
Stay back.
Dennis pointed.
“She wasn’t even here.”
Ellis said:
“Sir, step away from the doorway.”
“This is my house.”
“It is also your wife’s residence.”
Serena appeared behind him.
Her face had lost all color.
“Victoria.”
I looked at my sister.
No words came.
Dennis turned toward the hallway.
Ellis immediately said:
“Don’t touch anything.”
“I’m getting my phone.”
“Stay where you are.”
The local security hub sat inside a cabinet beneath the staircase.
Dennis knew it.
So did I.
The officers knew because I had told them.
He stopped.
“Am I under arrest?”
“No.”
“Then you can’t order me around my own house.”
Ellis remained calm.
“You are free to speak with counsel. We are also preserving a potentially relevant scene concerning a reported injury to a child. If you interfere with evidence after being informed of that, you may create additional problems for yourself.”
Dennis looked toward me again.
“You’re turning Meadow against me.”
I finally spoke.
“She’s in a shoulder brace.”
“She fell.”
“The camera will tell us.”
His eyes flicked toward it.
Small movement.
Huge answer.
Serena whispered:
“Dennis.”
He snapped:
“Shut up.”
My sister recoiled.
Officer Webb noticed.
So did I.
Another officer went around the exterior while investigators sought proper authority for further evidence collection.
I logged into the security account from my phone under police observation.
Event history.
Kitchen motion.
Hallway motion.
Stairwell.
I tapped the time Meadow was injured.
Loading.
Then:
FILE UNAVAILABLE.
My stomach dropped.
“No.”
Officer Webb leaned closer.
“What?”
“It’s gone.”
Dennis said nothing.
I refreshed.
The local event clip had been deleted.
“When?” Ellis asked.
The application showed activity log.
Administrator deletion.
Thirty-eight minutes earlier.
Account:
DENNIS_HALE.
I looked up.
Dennis whispered:
“That doesn’t mean anything.”
Maybe.
Maybe not.
May you like
But one thing was suddenly clear.
He had already touched the camera.
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