Chapter 13: The Video Recorded Yesterday
Chapter 13: The Video Recorded Yesterday
The room fell silent.
No one moved.
No one even looked away.
I stared at the technician.
"That's impossible."
My voice barely rose above a whisper.
"Emily died two years ago."
He nodded.
"I know."
"Then how could she record a video yesterday?"
"I didn't say Emily recorded it."
He looked down at the monitor.
"I said the file was created yesterday."
A cold chill ran through me.
Detective Harris stepped closer.
"Play it."
The technician hesitated.
"It's encrypted."
"Can you open it?"
"I already did."
"Then play it."
The screen flickered.
Static filled the monitor.
A timestamp appeared in the corner.
Yesterday – 4:17 P.M.
Then the picture cleared.
My heart nearly stopped.
Noah sat in the living room of my own house.
He was smiling.
Holding his favorite stuffed dinosaur.
Someone behind the camera spoke softly.
"Can you tell me your name?"
"Noah Carter."
"And how old are you?"
"I'm five."
The voice chuckled.
"Very good."
"Can you tell me who loves you the most?"
Noah smiled.
"My daddy."
The camera remained steady.
"Anyone else?"
"My mommy."
A lump formed in my throat.
"The one in Heaven."
The unseen person stayed silent for a moment.
Then asked another question.
"What about Judge William?"
Noah frowned.
"He says he loves me."
The voice continued.
"Do you believe him?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"He lies."
Grace quietly wiped away a tear.
The interviewer changed direction.
"Who told you that?"
"My mommy."
Every detective in the room exchanged glances.
The voice became noticeably sharper.
"When did your mommy tell you that?"
Noah looked confused.
"Before she went to Heaven."
The screen froze.
Then skipped ahead several seconds.
Now Noah looked frightened.
The same voice asked another question.
"Where did your mommy hide the blue notebook?"
"I don't know."
"Think carefully."
"I don't know."
"You do."
"I don't."
The interviewer sighed.
Someone placed a small toy truck on the table.
"If you answer..."
"...you can keep this."
Noah shook his head.
"I already have one."
Another pause.
Then the voice hardened.
"What did Grace tell you?"
Noah looked toward the floor.
"She said..."
"...good people don't help bullies."
The room became perfectly still.
The voice laughed.
Not loudly.
Just enough to make my skin crawl.
The video ended.
I couldn't breathe.
"They questioned him."
Grace nodded.
"They've been trying to get information from him."
Detective Harris replayed the beginning.
"Listen carefully."
Everyone remained silent.
He pointed toward the speakers.
"The man's voice."
Matthew's face immediately changed.
"I know him."
I looked sharply at my brother.
"Who is it?"
He swallowed.
"That's not William."
"Then who?"
"My father's attorney."
"The one who handled every family trust."
Detective Harris looked surprised.
"What's his name?"
Matthew answered quietly.
"Charles Whitmore."
The name meant nothing to me.
But Harris reacted instantly.
"I know that name."
"You do?"
"He resigned from the State Bar eight years ago."
"Why?"
"He disappeared."
Grace frowned.
"Disappeared?"
"He simply closed his office."
"No forwarding address."
"No retirement announcement."
"Nothing."
Matthew nodded.
"William never lets people retire."
The room became silent again.
The technician rewound the video.
"This wasn't the interesting part."
He skipped to the final twenty seconds.
The screen changed.
Noah had already left the room.
The camera continued recording.
The unseen man walked toward a nearby window.
His reflection briefly appeared in the glass.
The technician froze the frame.
A blurry figure became visible.
Detective Harris leaned closer.
"Enhance it."
The image slowly sharpened.
Charles Whitmore stood beside the window.
But he wasn't alone.
Someone else stood behind him.
Only half of the person's face appeared.
Gray hair.
A dark blue suit.
William.
But something else caught my attention.
A wall calendar hung behind them.
The date was circled in red.
Tomorrow.
Detective Harris zoomed in.
There were handwritten words beneath the date.
Final Transfer.
Grace whispered,
"What does that mean?"
No one answered.
The technician enlarged another portion of the image.
A map hung beside the calendar.
It showed the coastline.
Several locations had been marked with red circles.
One of them was Emily's favorite lighthouse.
Another was the abandoned marina nearby.
Then another.
The old Carter shipyard.
I frowned.
"My grandfather owned that property."
Matthew slowly nodded.
"It was sold."
"Years ago."
"To who?"
He hesitated.
Then answered.
"One of William's companies."
Detective Harris looked at the map.
"Three locations."
"He wants us guessing."
Matthew shook his head.
"No."
"He wants us divided."
The detective looked back at him.
"What do you mean?"
"If you send officers to all three..."
"...none of them will have enough people."
Harris understood immediately.
"So where would he really go?"
Matthew stared at the screen.
Then slowly pointed toward the lighthouse.
"Not because Noah is there."
"Because he wants Daniel there."
I looked at him.
"Why?"
Matthew answered without hesitation.
"Because the lighthouse isn't the destination."
"It's the stage."
The room fell silent.
Grace frowned.
"Stage?"
Matthew nodded.
"William never ends a story quietly."
"He always makes an example of someone."
A communications officer hurried into the command center.
"Detective Harris."
"What is it?"
"We finally traced one of the burner phones."
"Location?"
"The old lighthouse."
I looked at Matthew.
He didn't look surprised.
Instead...
He looked terrified.
"No."
Everyone turned toward him.
"What?"
"The phone wasn't left there by accident."
"How do you know?"
"Because that's exactly what I would've done."
Harris narrowed his eyes.
"You designed the diversion."
Matthew nodded.
"For years."
He looked sick.
"I trained them."
Silence filled the room.
Matthew continued.
"I built the routes."
"The escape plans."
"The surveillance blind spots."
"I taught William's people how law enforcement thinks."
Grace stared at him.
"Why are you telling us this now?"
His shoulders slumped.
"Because..."
He looked directly at me.
"...I'm the reason they were able to take Noah."
Before I could respond...
One of the FBI agents who had just arrived rushed into the room carrying a satellite phone.
"Detective Harris!"
Harris turned.
"What happened?"
The agent swallowed hard.
"We've just intercepted a secure transmission."
"From William?"
"No."
"Then who?"
The agent looked at me.
"It was from Noah."
The room froze.
I stepped forward.
"My son?"
The agent nodded.
"He only managed to say four words before the signal disappeared."
My heart pounded.
"What did he say?"
The agent looked down at his notes.
May you like
Then slowly repeated Noah's exact words.
'Daddy... Mommy was right...'"
