Chapter 2 - ELEVEN MINUTES ERASED At 8:43 that night, Vincent Hale found the first hole in Dominic Vale’s house.
It wasn’t a broken window.
It wasn’t an unlocked door.
It wasn’t a stranger hiding beyond the gates.
It was eleven minutes of nothing.
Camera Twelve had gone black from 4:16 p.m. until 4:27 p.m. the previous afternoon.
Dominic sat in his private study while rain battered the windows.
Three monitors illuminated his face.
“System failure?”
Vincent shook his head.
“No.”
“How certain?”
“Completely.”
Vincent enlarged the security timeline.
“Every other camera stayed online. Somebody removed these eleven minutes.”
Dominic looked toward his injured leg.
“Who can erase footage?”
“My department.”
“Names.”
Vincent hesitated only a second.
“Four supervisors. Me. Peter Sloan under emergency household authority.”
Peter Sloan.
Dominic’s estate manager.
Twelve years of service.
Twelve years of trust.
Dominic leaned back.
“Investigate everyone.”
Vincent nodded without protest.
That was why Dominic trusted him.
A guilty man might have become offended.
Vincent simply started working.
Dr. Mercer stood beside the fireplace studying the brace.
“I want new imaging tonight.”
Dominic looked toward him.
“You think they caused damage?”
“I don’t know.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
Mercer exhaled.
“Yes.”
Dominic’s expression hardened.
The conspiracy was no longer about a vote.
Somebody might have permanently damaged his body simply to make him appear incapable of leadership.
His phone vibrated.
Arthur.
Dominic ignored it.
Another message appeared.
Then another.
Finally Dominic read them.
The council is leaving.
You’re embarrassing yourself.
Call me before this becomes irreversible.
Dominic placed the phone facedown.
“Vincent.”
“Yes?”
“Bring me everyone who entered rehabilitation yesterday.”
Before Vincent could answer, someone knocked.
Clare stood outside.
Her face was pale.
“What happened?”
“It’s Ellie.”
Dominic immediately straightened.
“Is she hurt?”
“No.”
Clare shook her head.
“She remembered something.”
Minutes later, Ellie entered wearing borrowed pajamas and carrying her wooden latch board.
She climbed onto the sofa.
Dominic deliberately remained behind his desk.
He had learned quickly that Ellie spoke more freely when adults weren’t towering over her.
“What did you remember?”
Ellie stared at her toy.
“The man had a lady.”
Vincent looked up.
“What lady?”
“White shoes.”
Mercer went still.
Dominic saw it.
“Samuel?”
“Medical footwear.”
“How many staff wear white shoes?”
Mercer grimaced.
“Several.”
Ellie continued playing with the latch.
“The lady was mad.”
Dominic leaned forward.
“Why?”
“She said he shouldn’t.”
“Shouldn’t what?”
Ellie shrugged.
“What did the man say?”
The little girl squeezed the wooden board.
Her brow furrowed.
Then she whispered three words.
“Just enough.”
Nobody moved.
Dominic felt something cold settle inside him.
“Just enough for what?”
Ellie shook her head.
“That’s all.”
Vincent brought personnel photographs twenty minutes later.
Ellie studied each face.
At photograph number five, her finger stopped.
Angela Pierce.
Thirty-four.
Physical therapist.
Eight months working at the estate.
Ellie tapped the picture.
“Squeaky shoes.”
Vincent immediately called Angela.
No answer.
Again.
Nothing.
Security officers drove to her apartment.
Her car was downstairs.
Her phone sat on the kitchen counter.
Her purse remained beside the door.
But Angela Pierce was gone.
At 10:02 p.m., Vincent found another record.
Arthur Voss entered the rehabilitation wing at 4:14.
He left at 4:31.
The deleted footage existed almost perfectly inside that window.
Dominic stared at the timestamps.
Then his phone vibrated again.
Arthur.
This time Dominic answered.
“Come back.”
Arthur paused.
“Tonight?”
“Now.”
“Why?”
Dominic looked toward the frozen security screen.
“You wanted your vote.”
Arthur became silent.
Dominic smiled without humor.
“Come collect it.”
Arthur arrived twenty-eight minutes later.
He walked into Dominic’s study wearing the same gray suit and the same controlled expression.
But when he noticed the monitors displaying rehabilitation footage, his eyes changed.
Dominic saw it.
Arthur sat.
Dominic slid the access log across the desk.
“You visited rehabilitation yesterday.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“To see you.”
“I wasn’t there.”
“I discovered that.”
“What did you do for seventeen minutes?”
Arthur smiled.
“Are you interrogating me?”
“No.”
Dominic leaned back.
“If I were interrogating you, you wouldn’t need to ask.”
Arthur’s smile disappeared.
Dominic tapped the paper.
“Did you touch my brace?”
“No.”
“Did Angela?”
“She’s a physical therapist.”
“Where is she?”
Arthur frowned.
“How should I know?”
Dominic studied him.
Arthur was excellent at lying.
Perhaps because most of his lies contained enough truth to survive casual inspection.
But tonight Dominic wasn’t inspecting casually.
Then Ellie appeared in the doorway.
Arthur turned.
Recognition flashed across his face.
Ellie immediately stepped behind Clare.
Arthur recovered.
“Is that the child?”
Dominic remained expressionless.
“What child?”
Arthur froze.
“The one who…”
He stopped.
Too late.
Dominic leaned forward.
“The one who what?”
Arthur stood.
“This is ridiculous.”
Dominic smiled faintly.
“Yes.”
Vincent stepped beside the door.
“Very.”
Arthur realized his mistake.
Nobody had told him Ellie discovered the reversed mechanism.
Yet somehow he already knew the child mattered.
Arthur turned toward Dominic.
“You’re trusting a four-year-old?”
“No.”
Dominic rose carefully.
“I’m trusting mistakes.”
He took one step toward Arthur.
Then another.
Arthur’s eyes dropped toward Dominic’s improving leg.
Dominic noticed.
“You look disappointed.”
Arthur scoffed.
Before he could respond, Vincent’s phone rang.
He answered.
His face changed.
“Where?”
Dominic waited.
Vincent listened.
Then ended the call.
“They found Angela.”
Arthur’s face lost color.
Dominic saw that too.
“Alive?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
Vincent looked directly at Arthur.
“Locked inside a maintenance room in the north garage.”
The study became silent.
Arthur took one step backward.
Dominic moved closer.
Vincent’s phone rang again.
Another update.
Angela was terrified.
Dehydrated.
But conscious.
And she was repeating one sentence.
Dominic asked what it was.
Vincent looked at him.
“She says she didn’t reverse your brace.”
Arthur exhaled.
Then Vincent added:
“She says someone forced her to let them inside.”
Dominic’s eyes moved toward Arthur.
“Who?”
Vincent shook his head.
“She refuses to say over the phone.”
“Why?”
Vincent looked toward the hallway.
“Because she says the person who helped them can enter every room in this mansion.”
Dominic stopped.
The words were worse than Arthur’s presence.
Worse than the deleted footage.
Worse than the brace.
May you like
Because they meant somebody Dominic trusted had opened the doors.
And upstairs, beneath those same doors, slept the four-year-old girl who had seen too much.
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