Chapter 1 - She Thought the Camera Was DeadGretchen Sloan had already pulled the power cord from the wall.
She had checked twice.
The small security camera above the living-room shelf had gone dark.
No green light.
No little electronic click.
Nothing.
Perfect.
One-year-old Toby Harper sat strapped into his high chair, cheeks wet with tears, oatmeal smeared across his mouth, chin, and pale-blue shirt.
He turned his head as soon as Gretchen raised the spoon again.
“No.”
The word wasn’t really a word yet.
Just a frightened sound.
Gretchen’s jaw tightened.
“Eat.”
Toby twisted farther away.
The spoon hit his cheek.
Oatmeal smeared toward his ear.
He started crying louder.
Gretchen looked toward the hallway.
No footsteps.
Dominic was at the office.
The housekeeper had been sent grocery shopping.
Archer was upstairs.
And the camera was unplugged.
Gretchen grabbed Toby’s chin.
“Stop it.”
The baby cried harder.
She shoved another spoonful toward his mouth.
He turned.
The oatmeal dropped onto his shirt.
Something inside Gretchen snapped.
“Eat!”
Her hand moved.
A sharp slap.
Toby screamed.
The sound filled the enormous family room.
His tiny shoulders shook.
“Eat, you little bastard!”
Footsteps exploded upstairs.
Gretchen froze.
Eight-year-old Archer ran down the staircase so fast he nearly fell on the final step.
“GRANDMA GRETCHEN! STOP!”
He rushed toward his brother.
Gretchen stood.
“What did you say to me?”
Archer put himself between her and the high chair.
Toby reached toward him, sobbing.
Archer’s face was pale.
“You hit him!”
“He was choking himself by fighting me.”
“No, he wasn’t!”
Gretchen stepped closer.
“You want to be punished too?”
Archer’s eyes moved toward the camera.
His fear changed.
Just slightly.
He pointed.
“Dad will see.”
Gretchen followed his finger.
Then laughed.
It was a horrible sound.
Almost relieved.
“No, he won’t.”
Archer stared at her.
“I unplugged it.”
She pointed toward the loose cord hanging beside the outlet.
“You children need to learn something.”
She crouched until her face was level with his.
“Your father cannot protect you from things he never sees.”
Archer swallowed.
Gretchen smiled.
“And after today, if either of you tells him I touched Toby, I’ll say you made the whole thing up because I took away your tablet.”
Archer didn’t answer.
“You know who he’ll believe.”
That part hurt because Archer wasn’t certain she was wrong.
Gretchen had lived with them for almost eleven months.
Ever since Archer and Toby’s mother, Laura, died.
Dominic had needed help.
Gretchen was Laura’s mother.
A grieving grandmother.
At least that was what everyone called her.
When Archer complained that Gretchen yelled too much, Dominic said she was tired.
When he said she searched his room, Dominic said she was cleaning.
When Toby cried every time Gretchen entered the nursery, Dominic said babies went through phases.
Gretchen knew exactly how far adult credibility could stretch.
Archer looked at the camera again.
Then he did something Gretchen didn’t understand.
He smiled.
Not happily.
Just enough to make her stop.
“What?”
Archer said nothing.
Then—
BEEP.
A tiny green light appeared above them.
Gretchen’s face changed.
The camera clicked.
The lens adjusted.
“No.”
Archer stepped backward toward Toby.
“You forgot.”
Gretchen stared at the camera.
“What?”
“It has backup power.”
Her mouth opened.
Archer had heard his father explain it months earlier after a storm knocked out electricity.
Every family camera had a battery backup and an emergency cellular connection.
Gretchen rushed toward the shelf.
At that exact moment, twenty-one miles away in downtown Los Angeles, Dominic Harper’s phone vibrated across a conference-room table.
HOME CAMERA: POWER INTERRUPTION. BACKUP MODE ACTIVE.
Dominic glanced down.
He almost ignored it.
Then another alert appeared.
LOUD DISTRESS SOUND DETECTED — FAMILY ROOM.
His body went still.
“Excuse me.”
The investors across from him stopped talking.
Dominic opened the app.
Toby’s screaming filled his phone.
He saw his youngest son in the high chair.
Food covering his face.
Archer standing protectively in front of him.
And Gretchen reaching toward the camera.
“Gretchen?”
Dominic shot to his feet.
Everyone in the conference room stared.
Then Dominic noticed something underneath the live video.
The app had automatically surfaced recent motion events associated with the same camera network.
One thumbnail showed his home office.
Another showed Gretchen.
Alone.
2:14 a.m.
Three nights earlier.
Dominic tapped it.
The footage played.
Gretchen entered his office.
Closed the door.
Walked directly to his desk.
She didn’t search randomly.
She opened the bottom drawer.
The one Dominic had told everyone never to touch.
She removed a small blue envelope.
Held it beneath the desk lamp.
Then slipped something from inside it into her pocket.
Dominic forgot the meeting.
Forgot the investors.
Forgot everything except the screen.
“Gretchen?”
His voice blasted through the camera speaker at home.
Gretchen jerked backward.
Archer’s eyes widened.
“Dad!”
Dominic switched to live audio.
“Archer, take Toby and move away from her.”
Gretchen stared at the camera.
Her face turned completely white.
“Dominic.”
“What did you do to my son?”
“Nothing. He was having a feeding tantrum.”
“I saw you.”
Silence.
The words destroyed her prepared explanation.
Dominic grabbed his keys.
“Archer, stay where the camera can see you.”
“I will.”
Gretchen stepped toward him.
Dominic shouted through the speaker.
“Do not touch either child.”
She stopped.
For the first time, Archer saw fear in her.
Real fear.
But not because Dominic had seen what she did to Toby.
Gretchen looked toward the hallway.
Toward Dominic’s office.
Then toward the front door.
Dominic noticed.
So did Archer.
“Dad,” the boy said.
“What?”
“She’s been going into your office a lot.”
Dominic stopped walking.
“What do you mean?”
Gretchen snapped.
“Archer, shut up.”
Dominic’s voice became dangerously calm.
“Let him talk.”
Archer stared at his grandmother.
“She keeps asking me if Mom ever gave you a key.”
Gretchen moved toward him.
The camera speaker exploded.
“DON’T.”
She froze.
Dominic looked again at the old recording beneath the livestream.
The blue envelope in Gretchen’s hands.
He remembered putting it inside the locked drawer almost a year earlier.
Laura had given it to him shortly before Toby was born.
She had written only one sentence on the front.
For Dominic — if anything happens to me, read this before you trust anyone with the boys.
After Laura died unexpectedly months later, Dominic had never opened it.
He couldn’t.
He told himself he would when he was ready.
Now the envelope was gone.
And Gretchen had been searching for something inside his office repeatedly.
Dominic called 911 while running toward the elevator.
At home, Gretchen stared at the active camera.
Then at Archer.
“What did you tell him?”
Archer held Toby tighter.
“Nothing yet.”
May you like
That word terrified her.
Yet.
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