Chapter 8 - The Missing Hour
The estate’s security system stored thirty days of footage.
At least, it was supposed to.
Lucas led Rebecca, Eleanor, and Ethan through the basement while Vanessa followed.
Patricia refused.
That refusal told Eleanor almost as much as cooperation might have.
The equipment room smelled faintly of dust and warm electronics.
A wall-mounted monitor displayed sixteen camera feeds.
Driveway.
Kitchen.
Hallways.
Terrace.
Service entrance.
Study corridor.
Lucas pointed.
“That camera covers the study door.”
Rebecca examined the system.
“Who has administrator access?”
“Mrs. Mitchell. The security company. Maybe the house manager.”
Ethan looked at Vanessa.
“You?”
“No.”
Lucas navigated archived footage.
Three weeks earlier.
The date of Vanessa’s meeting with Turner.
Camera eight showed the hallway.
At 2:14 p.m., Vanessa entered the study.
At 2:51 p.m., she left.
Turner emerged one minute later.
Everything matched Lucas’s account.
Rebecca leaned closer.
“Go back.”
Lucas did.
“Earlier.”
At 1:58 p.m., Patricia entered the study with Turner.
At 2:07, Patricia left.
At 2:14, Vanessa entered.
Eleanor watched silently.
“Now show us after Turner left.”
Lucas advanced.
At 2:52, Turner exited.
At 3:03, he returned.
At 3:04, the footage jumped.
The timestamp became 4:11.
Ethan frowned.
“What happened?”
Lucas checked another camera.
Same gap.
Camera six.
Same.
Camera twelve.
Same.
Every recording between 3:04 and 4:11 was gone.
Rebecca took photographs of the system screens.
“Who deleted an hour?”
Lucas shook his head.
“I don’t know.”
Vanessa whispered, “He asked about the server room.”
Eleanor examined the hallway feed from 4:11 onward.
At 4:13, Patricia appeared.
She carried a folder.
At 4:15, Turner walked behind her.
Neither looked concerned.
“What happened during that missing hour?” Ethan asked.
No one answered.
Rebecca requested a forensic copy of the system before anyone touched it again.
Lucas knew enough to disconnect remote administrative access without deleting data.
As he worked, Eleanor stepped into the corridor.
Ethan followed.
“You were right about her.”
Eleanor knew he meant Vanessa.
“I was right about one part.”
“Isn’t that enough?”
“For the engagement?”
He looked at her.
“Yes.”
Eleanor chose her words carefully.
“You should not marry someone because your mother approves. You should not refuse to marry someone because your mother disapproves.”
“After tonight?”
“After tonight, you need facts.”
He laughed bitterly.
“She sprayed you with a hose.”
“That fact is complete.”
“You’re really going to separate that from everything else?”
“I’m going to separate what I know from what I suspect.”
Ethan leaned against the wall.
“Dad used to say that.”
“I stole it from him.”
“He probably stole it from you.”
Despite everything, Eleanor smiled.
Then Ethan became serious.
“Why didn’t you tell me about the trust concerns three weeks ago?”
“Because you would have confronted Vanessa.”
“I’m confronting her now.”
“Now we have evidence.”
“You don’t trust me.”
Eleanor hesitated.
There it was.
The accusation beneath every argument they had since Richard died.
Ethan believed his mother saw him as inexperienced.
Eleanor feared her son confused independence with refusing advice.
Both were partly right.
“I trust your ability,” she said. “I do not always trust your patience.”
“That’s a polished way of saying no.”
“It’s an accurate way.”
He looked hurt.
Eleanor continued.
“You fell in love. You stopped asking questions about people around her.”
“That doesn’t mean I’m stupid.”
“I didn’t say stupid.”
“You thought it.”
“No. I thought happy.”
He stared at her.
“Happy people ignore warnings because examining them threatens the happiness.”
Ethan looked toward the basement door where Vanessa stood with Rebecca.
“She knew her mother was using me.”
“She knew Patricia hoped to use your resources.”
“That’s the same thing.”
“No. It may become the same thing. But motives matter.”
“Why are you defending her?”
“I’m not.”
Eleanor touched his arm.
“I’m defending accuracy.”
Rebecca emerged.
“We have another problem.”
She held Vanessa’s phone inside a clear plastic evidence bag.
“Vanessa voluntarily gave me permission to inspect basic account logs.”
Ethan looked toward Vanessa.
She nodded.
Rebecca continued.
“Her password manager shows a successful export three weeks ago.”
Vanessa’s face whitened.
“Export?”
“All stored credentials copied into a file.”
“I didn’t do that.”
“Maybe not.”
Eleanor asked, “Time?”
Rebecca checked her notes.
“3:26 p.m.”
During the missing security footage.
Ethan swore.
“From where?”
“The phone itself.”
Vanessa covered her mouth.
Turner had not merely looked at photographs.
He had likely copied her passwords.
And if Ethan’s credentials had been stored in the vault, that changed everything.
Rebecca looked at Eleanor.
“There’s more.”
“What?”
“Vanessa’s phone connected to a computer by cable at 3:21.”
Lucas frowned.
“There’s a desktop computer in the study.”
Eleanor turned toward the stairs.
“Then that is where we go next.”
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But when they reached the study, the computer was gone.
Only a rectangle of clean wood showed where it had been.
