Chapter 4: The Camera
The photograph on my phone showed my son asleep in Evelyn’s bassinet.
The angle was wrong.
Too close.
Too low.
Whoever took it had been standing inside the house.
For one terrible second, I couldn't hear anything except my own heartbeat.
Then Evelyn grabbed my wrist.
“What is it?””
I turned the screen toward her.
She went completely still.
“That's impossible.””
“I know.””
She took the phone.
Her eyes moved over the photograph.
“When was this taken?””
I looked at the timestamp.
5:58 a.m.
Seven minutes earlier.
The kitchen suddenly felt different.
Every corner looked darker.
Every closed door looked like it could hide a person.
Evelyn put the phone face down.
“Don't call the police yet.””
I stared at her.
“Why not?””
“Because whoever sent this wants you frightened enough to do something stupid.””
“My baby is being threatened.””
“I know.””
“No, Evelyn. They took a photograph of him from inside your house.””
“I know.””
Her voice cracked on the last word.
That scared me more.
Evelyn walked to the bassinet and lifted my son into her arms.
“Stay close to me.””
I followed her through the house.
The kitchen.
The hallway.
The living room.
The study.
Nothing looked disturbed.
No broken lock.
No open window.
No footprints.
Then I noticed the smallest thing.
A black dot beneath the shelf.
I crouched.
“What is that?””
Evelyn leaned down.
It was a tiny camera.
No larger than the head of a shirt button.
My stomach dropped.
She touched it.
“It wasn't there yesterday.””
“You're sure?””
“I dust this room every morning.””
She stepped back.
I pulled out my phone and photographed it.
Then another.
“Don't touch it,” Evelyn said.
“I wasn't going to.””
She looked toward the hallway.
“There's probably another one.””
We searched without touching anything.
One inside the living room smoke detector.
One beneath the television.
One facing the back door.
Four cameras.
Maybe more.
I felt sick.
“They've been watching you.””
Evelyn shook her head.
“No.””
She looked at me.
“They've been watching you.””
I didn't answer.
She pointed at the newest camera.
“This one was installed recently.””
“How can you tell?””
“The casing is different.””
“And the others?””
“Old security system. Those are mine.””
My breath caught.
“So someone put these here after I arrived?””
“Or before.””
“Why?””
She looked at my phone.
“Because they knew you'd come to me.””
That sentence followed me into the study.
I sat at Evelyn’s desk while my son slept in my arms.
Martin called again.
I answered immediately.
“Tell me everything.””
His voice was low.
“We isolated the recovered file.””
“Is it safe to open?””
“Not on your device.””
“Then what do I do?””
“Come to the office.””
“No.””
“You need to see it.””
“Martin, someone has cameras in Evelyn's house.””
Silence.
Then, “What?””
I explained.
When I finished, he said, “Do not come here.””
I frowned.
“You just told me to come there.””
“I changed my mind.””
“Why?””
“Because I checked the building access logs.””
“And?””
“Someone used your employee badge at 5:31.””
My skin prickled.
“I have my badge.””
“I know.””
“Then who used it?””
“We don't know.””
“Where?””
“Executive floor.””
My mouth went dry.
“Daniel's office?””
“Yes.””
I looked at the wall clock.
6:11.
“Martin.””
“Yes?””
“Who is physically in the building?””
“Security is checking now.””
“Call me when you know.””
He hesitated.
“Roz…”
“What?””
“There was something else in the recovered file.””
“What?””
“A list.””
“Of what?””
“Payments.””
My pulse quickened.
“How many?””
“Thirty-seven.””
“Northbridge?””
“Mostly.””
“Mostly?””
“There are seven payments to different entities.””
“Names?””
“I don't have them all.””
“Give me one.””
He read from the screen.
“Mercer Family Holdings.””
I closed my eyes.
“What amount?””
“Two hundred thousand.””
“Another.””
“Wellington Private.””
“How much?””
“Three hundred and twenty-five.””
“And the others?””
“Five more. All between one hundred and six hundred thousand.””
I looked at the photocopy on the desk.
Four hundred and eighty thousand.
“Where does the money end up?””
“We don't know.””
“Then find out.””
“We're trying.””
“No.””
I heard my own voice become colder.
“Don't try. Trace it.””
He went silent.
Then said, “That's what you would have said before maternity leave.””
I almost smiled.
“I'm not on maternity leave anymore.””
A noise came from the hallway.
My son stirred.
I covered the phone.
“Evelyn?””
No answer.
I stood.
“Evelyn?””
The hallway was empty.
Then I heard her call from the kitchen.
“Roz?””
“Yes?””
“Come here.””
I found her standing over the trash bin.
She was holding a torn envelope.
“What is it?””
“This was in my mailbox.””
She handed it to me.
The paper was thick.
Expensive.
There was no return address.
Inside was a single photograph.
Me.
Walking out of my house that morning.
My suitcase in one hand.
My baby in the other.
The photograph had been taken from across the street.
I stared at it.
On the back, someone had written:
YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO LEAVE ALONE.
Evelyn looked pale.
“What does that mean?””
I turned the photograph over again.
Then I noticed something in the corner.
A tiny timestamp.
4:47 a.m.
Less than five minutes after I left.
“Whoever took this was outside our house.””
Evelyn locked the back door.
Then the front.
“Maybe they followed you.””
“No.””
“Why not?””
“Because they knew we'd come here before I did.””
She stared at me.
“What are you saying?””
I remembered Daniel.
The suitcase.
The way he had watched me pack.
The way he'd said I had nowhere else.
“He didn't just want me to leave.””
Evelyn waited.
“He needed me to leave.””
“Why?””
“So someone could follow me without being seen.””
Her face tightened.
“Are you saying Daniel sent someone?””
“I don't know.””
“But you suspect him.””
“I suspect everyone.””
That afternoon, we drove to a hotel under Evelyn's name.
We left the car two streets away and walked.
No phones.
No credit cards.
No identifying information at the desk.
Evelyn had lived long enough to understand that paranoia wasn't useful unless it was organized.
We took a room on the eighth floor.
My son slept in the middle of the bed while I sat beside him.
Evelyn placed the blue file on the table.
“You haven't looked at the rest.””
“No.””
“Why?””
“Because Robert came for it.””
“That doesn't answer the question.””
I stared at the folder.
“I wanted to know why before I opened it.””
Evelyn nodded.
“That's the right instinct.””
She opened the file.
There were seven pages.
The first listed companies.
The second listed dates.
The third listed amounts.
The fourth listed account numbers.
The fifth was a trust document.
The sixth was a handwritten note.
The seventh was blank except for one name.
MARCUS MERCER.
I frowned.
“Who is Marcus?””
Evelyn went completely still.
“You don't know?””
“No.””
She slowly lowered herself into the chair.
“Marcus Mercer was Daniel's older brother.””
I stared at her.
“Was?””
“He died.””
“When?””
“Eleven years ago.””
I looked at the page again.
The name was written in black ink.
Beneath it was a date.
The date matched the creation of the Mercer Family Trust.
“Why would his name be here?””
Evelyn didn't answer.
“Evelyn.””
She looked at me.
“Because the trust wasn't created for Daniel.””
I felt my heartbeat in my throat.
“Then who was it created for?””
She hesitated.
“For Marcus's daughter.””
I blinked.
“Marcus had a daughter?””
“Yes.””
“Where is she?””
Evelyn looked down.
“No one knows.””
A knock came at the hotel door.
We froze.
Three knocks.
Slow.
Deliberate.
My son stirred.
I stood.
Evelyn raised her hand.
Neither of us moved.
Then a man's voice came through the door.
“Mrs. Shaw?””
Evelyn looked at me.
It wasn't Robert.
It wasn't Daniel.
The man spoke again.
“I have something that belongs to Roz.””
My chest tightened.
Evelyn whispered, “Stay here.””
The handle moved.
Once.
Twice.
Then stopped.
“Open the door,” the man said.
I looked at the blue file.
Then at my son.
The man outside spoke one final sentence.
And this time, I recognized the voice.
May you like
It was Martin.
“Roz, you need to see what Daniel's been hiding.””
