Chapter 6 - Walter’s CameraWalter Price had spent twenty-seven years watching doors.
He trusted cameras more than people.
That was why Roman listened when the seventy-two-year-old former security supervisor said, “Your family archived the wrong system.”
They sat in Room 18 that evening.
Walter’s cane rested against his chair.
Roman placed Samuel Voss’s affidavit on the table.
Walter barely glanced at it.
“Paper can be rewritten.”
“You have something better?”
“Maybe.”
Walter looked toward Lily.
“You brought my old storage case?”
She nodded and slid a plastic box from beneath the motel bed.
Walter opened it.
Inside were dozens of MiniDV tapes.
Roman stared.
“You kept security recordings?”
“Not mansion recordings.”
Walter lifted one tape.
“Backup diagnostic feeds.”
Roman frowned.
Walter explained.
Twenty-two years earlier, the mansion security system had been upgraded.
Walter had used portable recording units to test camera coverage.
The backup tapes were never part of the official archive.
“Why keep them?”
Walter shrugged.
“I keep things.”
Margaret smiled faintly.
“He keeps grocery receipts from 1998.”
Walter ignored her.
He selected a tape marked APR 10–15.
Roman felt the atmosphere change.
“You recorded the week of the fire.”
“Parts of it.”
They borrowed an old camcorder adapter from the motel owner.
The footage flickered onto the television.
April tenth.
The Kane mansion driveway.
Elizabeth’s Mercedes arriving.
April eleventh.
Marcus entering at 9:13 p.m.
Leaving at 11:47.
Roman remembered that night only vaguely.
His mother had been upstairs.
His father had traveled to Milwaukee.
Then April twelfth.
The day of the fire.
At 4:22 p.m., Dr. Nathan Bell entered the mansion.
Roman leaned forward.
“The physician from St. Agnes.”
Walter nodded.
Bell stayed thirty-seven minutes.
At 5:04 p.m., Elizabeth left in her Mercedes.
At 5:11, Marcus’s car followed.
Roman stopped the footage.
“Official records say my mother drove to Lake Geneva alone.”
Walter nodded.
“She didn’t.”
They resumed.
At 5:19 p.m., another car left the mansion.
Vincent Kane’s.
Roman froze.
“My father was supposed to be in Milwaukee.”
Walter looked troubled.
“I never understood that.”
Roman rewound.
The driver could not be clearly seen.
“Could Marcus have used his car?”
“No. Marcus’s had already left.”
“Who else?”
Walter shook his head.
The footage jumped.
Then the date changed.
May twenty-sixth.
Six weeks after the funeral.
Walter’s camera showed Arthur leaving the mansion garage at 6:40 p.m.
Arthur whispered, “That was when Vincent sent me.”
At 11:53 p.m., Arthur returned.
At 12:06 a.m., Vincent’s car left.
Roman stared.
“My father went out after you told him she was gone.”
Arthur nodded.
“He drove away like a madman.”
“Where?”
“I don’t know.”
Walter changed tapes.
May twenty-seventh.
Vincent returned at 5:31 a.m.
His white shirt was wrinkled.
He carried something.
Roman leaned toward the television.
“A folder?”
Walter paused the image.
It looked like a dark leather document case.
Roman remembered that case.
His father had kept legal documents inside it for years.
“Do you know where that is?”
Arthur shook his head.
Roman’s phone rang.
His attorney.
“Roman, we found the Hawthorne transfers.”
“Tell me.”
“There were five major transactions. Two properties, municipal bonds, a publishing stake, and cash.”
“Marcus received them?”
“Entities he controlled did.”
“Signed by Elizabeth?”
“Purportedly.”
“Dates?”
There was a pause.
“Some after April twelfth.”
Roman closed his eyes.
Fraud.
At minimum.
“What else?”
“The signatures were notarized.”
“By whom?”
“Dr. Nathan Bell witnessed two. Samuel Voss notarized one. The other two were certified by a bank officer named Claire Donnelly.”
Roman’s eyes opened.
Helen sat upright.
“Claire Donnelly?”
Roman looked at her.
“The nurse?”
Helen shook her head.
“She told me she was a nurse.”
Roman put the call on speaker.
His attorney continued.
“Claire Donnelly worked at Lakeshore National Bank until twenty-two years ago. She resigned the month after Elizabeth’s funeral.”
Roman felt the room tighten.
“Where is she now?”
“We’re looking.”
Walter spoke.
“I remember Claire.”
Everyone turned.
“She visited the mansion.”
“When?”
“A few times before the fire.”
“What for?”
“She met Elizabeth privately.”
Helen frowned.
“I never saw her.”
“She used the service entrance.”
Roman stared at Walter.
“Why?”
“Elizabeth asked me not to log the visits.”
Roman almost laughed from frustration.
“Another secret.”
Walter bristled.
“Your mother had reasons.”
“So did everyone.”
Lily intervened quietly.
“Roman.”
He looked at her.
“You’re angry because they kept things from you. But you were fourteen.”
Roman’s jaw tightened.
“That stopped being true twenty-two years ago.”
Lily did not flinch.
“And for eleven of those years, they believed you rejected them.”
That silenced him.
Roman looked at Arthur.
The old man lowered his eyes.
Roman returned to the television.
“Keep playing.”
The footage advanced.
June second.
Marcus entered the mansion carrying two document boxes.
June third.
Samuel Voss arrived.
June fifth.
Dr. Bell.
Then June seventh.
A woman wearing a scarf and large sunglasses approached the side entrance.
Walter inhaled sharply.
Roman stopped breathing.
The footage was grainy.
The woman turned toward the camera for less than a second.
But Roman knew the shape of that face.
The posture.
The slight tilt of her head.
Arthur stood.
“That’s Elizabeth.”
Helen covered her mouth.
Roman moved closer to the television.
The timestamp read:
JUNE 7 — 2:14 A.M.
Nearly eight weeks after the funeral.
The woman entered through the service door.
No footage showed her leaving.
Roman turned toward Walter.
“Where is the rest?”
Walter’s expression had gone blank.
“There should be more.”
He searched the case.
Nothing.
“The tape ends at 3:02.”
“What happened at 3:02?”
Walter stared at the frozen image.
“That was the night Vincent ordered the east wing cameras shut down.”
Roman felt cold spread through him.
“Why?”
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Walter looked at him.
“He said your mother was coming home.”
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