Chapter 3 - THE CAMERAS WERE SENDING VIDEO SOMEWHERE ELSEEverett called police before he called a technician.
He showed them Doreen’s recording.
Seraphina denied abuse.
She called the cold shower “discipline.”
The officer interviewing her did not appear impressed.
Hadley was interviewed separately with Doreen nearby.
Everett wasn’t allowed to sit in.
He hated that.
But he understood.
Seraphina was told to remain away from Hadley while investigators determined next steps.
She moved to the guest wing under police supervision while arrangements were made.
Then Julian Reyes arrived.
Everett knew Julian from Whitmore Capital’s cybersecurity team.
Thirty-four.
Brilliant.
Blunt.
He walked into the mansion carrying two laptops and looked at the nearest camera.
“Who installed this system?”
“Northstar Residential Security.”
“Original install?”
“Six years ago.”
“Any upgrades?”
“Two.”
“Who authorized the latest?”
Everett thought.
“Seraphina handled it.”
“When?”
“About eight months ago.”
Julian looked at him.
“That matters.”
They went to the security closet.
The main recorder appeared normal.
Power on.
Network connected.
Yet Everett’s app showed every camera offline.
Julian typed for five minutes.
Then stopped.
“Oh.”
Everett hated that sound.
“What?”
“You don’t own the admin account anymore.”
“What?”
“Your login is a viewer account.”
“I’m the homeowner.”
“Technically the system thinks you’re a guest.”
Everett stared.
“Who is admin?”
Julian turned the screen.
S.WEST
Everett frowned.
“Seraphina Whitmore?”
“Could be.”
Her maiden name was West.
Everett felt anger rise.
“When was the account created?”
“Eight months ago.”
The upgrade.
“Can you see what it changed?”
“Give me a minute.”
Julian worked.
Then:
“Your mobile app wasn’t disconnected from the cameras.”
“Then why does it say offline?”
“Someone created a false status layer.”
Everett stared.
“In English.”
“Your app is being told the cameras are dead while the cameras remain operational.”
Doreen covered her mouth.
Everett felt cold.
“So Seraphina could watch?”
“If she controlled the admin account, yes.”
“Could she record?”
Julian looked at him.
“They’ve been recording continuously.”
Silence.
Everett swallowed.
“Where?”
“Locally.”
Julian pointed toward the recorder.
“And somewhere else.”
Everett’s pulse changed.
“Where?”
“That’s what I’m trying to determine.”
Network logs showed encrypted uploads every night at 2:00 a.m.
Large files.
Hundreds of gigabytes over several weeks.
Destination hidden behind a private relay.
Julian frowned.
“This is deliberate.”
“Can you access local recordings?”
“Probably.”
“Do it.”
“Everett.”
“What?”
“You may not want to watch everything yourself.”
“I do.”
“No.”
Julian looked at him.
“You think you do.”
Everett’s face hardened.
“That’s my daughter.”
“Exactly.”
Julian’s tone softened.
“If there’s footage of abuse, police need the original files. And Hadley may deserve not to have her father repeatedly watching her worst moments.”
That stopped him.
Everett exhaled.
“Copy it. Preserve everything.”
Julian nodded.
Then found the first problem.
“Someone deleted sections.”
“How many?”
“A lot.”
“Can they be recovered?”
“Possibly.”
Doreen asked:
“Which sections?”
Julian opened a calendar.
Almost every weekday afternoon had missing blocks.
Times when Everett was usually away.
Hadley was home.
Seraphina was home.
Doreen sometimes was.
Everett’s stomach tightened.
“This is systematic.”
“Yes.”
“Who deleted them?”
“Admin.”
“S.WEST.”
“Yes.”
Everett looked toward the guest wing.
Seraphina hadn’t accidentally discovered active cameras.
She had controlled them.
She created fake outages.
She deleted footage.
But why upload the files somewhere else first?
Julian opened a surviving clip.
Kitchen.
Two weeks earlier.
Seraphina stood at the counter talking on her phone.
Audio was enabled.
Everett heard his wife say:
“He still thinks the system is dead.”
A male voice answered faintly from speaker.
Couldn’t make out words.
Seraphina:
“No. Hadley is noticing the lights.”
Everett stopped breathing.
Julian paused the recording.
Doreen whispered:
“Oh my God.”
“Play it.”
The clip continued.
Seraphina paced.
“I told you we should remove the upstairs cameras.”
The male voice responded.
This time clearer:
“No. We need the archive.”
Seraphina lowered her voice.
“Then you deal with the girl.”
Everett went cold.
Julian looked at him.
Seraphina continued:
“She asks questions every time the light changes.”
Male voice:
“Keep her away from Laurel’s room.”
Everett’s heart slammed.
His dead wife’s name.
Seraphina:
“I am.”
Male voice:
“And the old recorder?”
“I haven’t found it.”
Silence.
Then the man said:
“You’d better.”
The clip ended.
Everett stared at the screen.
“What old recorder?”
Doreen looked pale.
“I might know.”
Everett turned.
“What?”
She hesitated.
“Laurel once asked me to hide something.”
“When?”
“Before the accident.”
His skin prickled.
“What did she give you?”
“A small recording unit.”
“Where is it?”
Doreen looked toward the staircase.
“I don’t know.”
Everett stared.
“You hid something for my wife and forgot where?”
“No.”
Doreen swallowed.
“She took it back.”
“When?”
“Three days before she died.”
Everett felt the room shift.
“Why?”
“She said she had finally caught what she needed.”
“What?”
“She wouldn’t tell me.”
“Who was she afraid of?”
Doreen’s eyes filled.
“I thought it was someone at your company.”
Everett’s chest tightened.
“Who?”
“I never knew.”
Julian replayed Seraphina’s phone call.
Keep her away from Laurel’s room.
And the old recorder?
I haven’t found it.
Everett looked at Doreen.
“Seraphina is searching for whatever Laurel recorded.”
“Yes.”
“But Seraphina told me she never knew Laurel.”
Doreen nodded slowly.
“So she lied about that too.”
Julian interrupted.
“There’s something else.”
He pointed at the network map.
The nightly camera uploads had finally resolved to a destination.
Not a public cloud provider.
Not Northstar.
A private server.
Owned by a company called:
Vantage Risk Consulting.
Everett knew the name.
He stood completely still.
Vantage handled background investigations for Whitmore Capital.
Its founder had been Everett’s friend for twenty years.
Graham Voss.
May you like
And three months before Laurel died—
Graham had been the last person Everett knew who spoke to her.
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