Vincent found the first problem with the security footage at 8:43 p.m.
Eleven minutes were missing.
Dominic sat behind the desk in his private study while three monitors displayed camera feeds from the rehabilitation wing.
Clare and Ellie were upstairs in a guest suite with two female staff members Dominic trusted. Clare had protested until Dominic explained that whoever had tampered with his brace might realize Ellie had seen something.
That ended the argument.
Vincent stood beside the monitors.
“Camera twelve runs continuously.”
“Usually?”
“Always.”
“And yesterday?”
Vincent tapped the screen.
“4:16 p.m. to 4:27 p.m. Nothing.”
“System failure?”
“No.”
“How do you know?”
“Other cameras stayed online.”
Dominic leaned back.
His leg felt different.
Not healed.
Not painless.
But different.
For weeks he had assumed every new ache meant his body was failing him.
Now he wondered how much of that suffering had been manufactured.
Dr. Mercer stood near the fireplace.
“I want imaging done tonight.”
Dominic looked at him.
“Why?”
“If the brace has repeatedly compressed the nerve, I need to know whether there’s additional damage.”
“Repeatedly?”
Mercer hesitated.
Dominic caught it.
“You think this happened more than once.”
“I think we should consider the possibility.”
Vincent turned.
“How many people have access to the brace?”
“Dominic. Myself. Two physical therapists. Three rehabilitation technicians.”
“And Arthur Voss?”
“No medical reason.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
Mercer exhaled.
“The rehabilitation wing isn’t restricted from senior household guests.”
Dominic’s phone vibrated.
Arthur.
He ignored it.
A second message arrived.
Then a third.
Vincent glanced at him.
“What’s he saying?”
Dominic read the screen.
Council members are leaving.
You are making yourself look unstable.
Call me before this becomes embarrassing.
Dominic placed the phone facedown.
“Pull access records.”
Vincent nodded.
“Already doing it.”
There was a knock.
One of Vincent’s security officers entered carrying a small plastic evidence bag.
“Found this behind the rehabilitation cabinet.”
Inside was a tiny screwdriver.
Mercer frowned.
“That isn’t ours.”
Dominic looked at Vincent.
“Prints?”
“We’ll handle it properly.”
“Good.”
Another knock.
This time Clare stood in the doorway.
“I’m sorry.”
Dominic motioned her inside.
“What happened?”
“Ellie won’t sleep.”
“That’s understandable.”
“She says she needs to tell you something.”
Dominic looked at Vincent.
“Bring her.”
Minutes later Ellie entered wearing borrowed pajamas, clutching her wooden latch board.
She climbed onto the sofa beside her mother.
Dominic remained behind the desk to avoid intimidating her.
“What did you remember?”
Ellie stared at her toy.
“The man wasn’t alone.”
Vincent’s attention sharpened.
“Who else?”
“A lady.”
“What lady?”
Ellie shrugged.
“White shoes.”
Clare frowned.
“White shoes?”
“She had squeaky ones.”
Mercer went still.
Dominic noticed.
“Samuel?”
The doctor looked uncomfortable.
“Medical shoes.”
“Who wears them?”
“Half the rehabilitation staff.”
Vincent crouched several feet from Ellie.
“Can you remember anything else?”
Ellie nodded.
“She said he shouldn’t do it.”
Dominic’s eyes narrowed.
“What did the man say?”
Ellie squeezed the toy.
“He said…”
She struggled to remember.
Clare rubbed her back.
“It’s okay.”
Ellie finally whispered, “Just enough.”
Nobody moved.
Dominic felt cold.
“Just enough for what?”
Ellie shook her head.
“That’s all.”
Vincent stood.
Dominic looked at him.
“Find the woman.”
