Chapter 7 - THE PHOTOGRAPH FROM INSIDE
For three seconds, I forgot how to breathe.
The photograph showed Ethan asleep beneath the blue blanket in the secure residence. His dinosaur was tucked under his arm. The bedside lamp was on. The angle came from the doorway, just beyond the frame of the room's internal camera.
Whoever had taken it had been inside the building.
I handed the phone to Frank.
“Seal the residence. Nobody moves.”
He was already speaking into his radio.
“Lock down all internal corridors. Preserve the camera system. No one enters or exits without authorization.”
I ran toward Ethan's room.
The nurse stood outside the door, pale and confused.
“Where is he?”
“Inside. He's asleep.”
I opened the door.
Ethan was exactly where the photograph showed him. The blanket rose and fell with his breathing. I crossed the room and checked the window. Locked. The balcony door. Locked. The bathroom. Empty.
I looked behind the curtains.
Nothing.
Then I noticed the small white sensor above the door. Its indicator light was dark.
“Who disabled this?”
The nurse shook her head. “I don't know. It was working when I checked him.”
I pressed the call button.
Frank appeared seconds later.
“Find the camera technician. I want to know when this went offline.”
He checked the sensor.
“Someone removed the power module.”
“From inside the room?”
“Yes.”
I looked at the nurse.
“Who entered this room after Ethan fell asleep?”
“Only me, the pediatrician, and the night orderly.”
“Names.”
She gave them.
Frank took the list and left.
I sat beside Ethan and held his hand. He stirred but did not wake.
A voice came from the doorway.
“Dominic?”
It was Sophia.
She stood there holding Lily. Her face was white.
“What's happened?”
“Nothing you need to worry about.”
She looked at my expression.
“Please don't lie to me.”
I told her about the photograph.
Sophia tightened her arms around Lily.
“Someone came inside?”
“We're checking.”
“Then we're not safe here.”
“I won't let anyone near you.”
She looked at Ethan.
“You can't promise that.”
The words were quiet. They were also true.
I stood.
“Frank will move you and Lily to the medical suite. It has a separate entrance.”
“No,” Sophia said. “I'm staying with Ethan.”
“Sophia—”
“He trusts Lily. He feels safe with her. If you move us apart, he'll wake up and wonder where she is.”
I looked at the children.
Ethan had been through enough. I nodded.
“Then you stay together. Frank will place a guard outside.”
Sophia sat in the chair beside Ethan's bed. Lily climbed down and curled up beside her mother.
I stepped into the corridor.
Frank was waiting.
“The camera technician is missing.”
“Missing?”
“He left the building twenty minutes ago. His car is still in the parking lot.”
“Name?”
“Caleb Dunn.”
“Find him.”
Frank lowered his voice. “We also found that the night orderly used a master key to enter Ethan's room at 1:13 a.m. He says he was checking the air filter.”
“Did he?”
“He says yes.”
“Did he disable the sensor?”
“He denies it.”
I looked at the door.
“Bring him to me.”
The orderly, a young man named Paul Keene, arrived with two officers. He looked terrified.
“I didn't take that photograph,” he said before anyone asked.
“Did you enter Ethan's room?”
“Yes. I was told to check the air filter.”
“By whom?”
“Mr. Pierce.”
Malcolm.
“Did he give you the key?”
Paul nodded.
“Did he tell you to disable the sensor?”
“No. He said the camera was creating interference with the medical monitor. He told me to remove the power module for a few minutes.”
“Did you?”
“I did. I put it back.”
“When?”
“After I checked the filter.”
“Did you see anyone else in the room?”
Paul shook his head.
“Did you take a photograph?”
“No, sir.”
Frank showed him the image.
Paul stared at it.
“I didn't take that.”
“Who could have?”
He swallowed.
“Mr. Pierce had a second access card. He said it was for emergencies.”
I looked at Frank.
“Find the card.”
Paul began to cry.
“I didn't know he was doing anything wrong. He told me it was routine.”
I believed that he might be telling the truth. But belief was no longer enough.
The police took him for questioning.
At 2:30 a.m., Naomi called.
“We have a location for the aircraft.”
“Where?”
“It landed at a private strip in Nova Scotia. The flight was registered under a company linked to Anthony.”
“Is he there?”
“Not anymore. The aircraft left without filing a new destination.”
“Can they track it?”
“Not yet.”
I walked toward the office. On the wall was a photograph of my father, my sister, and me standing in front of the old family house. Anthony had not been in it. He had joined our family years later, smiling at every gathering, offering to help with every problem.
I had mistaken charm for loyalty.
Naomi arrived twenty minutes later with a laptop.
“The photo was uploaded through the residence's guest network,” she said. “The device used was registered to the medical coordinator.”
“Did she take it?”
“She says her tablet was stolen from her car two days ago.”
“Was that reported?”
“No.”
I stared at the screen.
“Who knew the tablet was missing?”
“Malcolm. He was told because the device contained the medical access app.”
The chain was becoming clear.
Malcolm had arranged access to Ethan's medical records. He had controlled the security supervisor. He had influenced the cake supplier. He had placed someone inside the residence.
But Anthony was still the man on the footage.
“Where is the money going?” I asked.
Naomi opened another file.
“Vale Capital received a series of transfers from a holding company. The same company paid Northbridge Advisory and the replacement cake supplier. We found a large transfer scheduled for tomorrow morning.”
“Amount?”
“Twenty million.”
“From whom?”
“An account connected to one of your overseas subsidiaries.”
I looked at her.
“That's my money.”
“Yes. But the transfer was approved using your digital authorization.”
“I didn't approve it.”
“The authorization token was copied.”
I understood.
The cake had been a distraction. If Ethan had died, I would have been consumed by grief, the estate would have been thrown into chaos, and Malcolm could have moved the money while I was unable to think clearly.
“Freeze the account.”
“I'm working on it.”
“Now.”
She called the bank.
I called the police.
At dawn, Frank came into the office.
“We found Caleb Dunn.”
“Where?”
“In a storage unit outside Stamford. He's alive, but he's been beaten.”
I stood.
“Did he identify who attacked him?”
“He gave us a name.”
“Who?”
Frank looked at me.
“Anthony Vale.”
After the police secured the room, I sat beside Ethan and waited for him to wake. I had not told him about the photograph. I did not want him to imagine someone standing over his bed while he slept.
He opened his eyes just after dawn.
“Dad, did you sleep?”
“A little.”
“You should sleep more.”
I smiled. “I'll try.”
He looked toward the chair where Lily had been sitting. “Where is she?”
“With her mother.”
“Can she come back?”
“Of course.”
He nodded, then asked whether he could go home. I told him we were still working on that. He did not argue, but I could see the disappointment in his face.
Children should not have to learn the difference between a home and a safe house.
When Sophia heard about the missing camera technician, she asked whether Lily should be taken to her grandmother's home. I told her the decision was hers. She chose to remain with Ethan because the children were calmer together.
I arranged for a child counselor to visit, not because either child had done anything wrong, but because they had experienced something frightening. The counselor explained that Lily might repeat the story, ask the same questions, or become clingy for a while. We should answer honestly without making her feel responsible.
That advice stayed with me.
When Lily asked whether the bad man was angry because she stopped him, Sophia told her, “You helped Ethan. The grown-ups are responsible for stopping the bad man now.”
It was exactly right.
I had been so focused on finding the person behind the attack that I had almost forgotten the children needed to feel like children again.
I later asked the counselor to speak with me as well. She explained that parents sometimes tried to hide every sign of fear from children, believing it would make them feel secure. But children noticed more than adults realized. Ethan knew I was frightened, even when I smiled. Lily knew Sophia was worried, even when her mother told her everything was fine.
“Give them simple truths,” the counselor advised. “Tell them what is happening in words they can understand. Don't promise what you cannot control.”
May you like
I thought about my promise to Ethan that the men would never come near him again. I could promise that we would protect him, that the police were involved, and that we would take every reasonable step. I could not promise that danger would never exist.
That distinction was difficult. It was also honest.
