Chapter 2 - The Missing Twelve Minutes)
Detective Cole placed photographs on Nora’s hospital table.
He did not show her the worst ones immediately.
He began with the hallway.
A broken ceramic vase.
Wine across the hardwood floor.
A torn piece of dusty-rose fabric caught beneath a cabinet.
Nora recognized it.
Her dress.
Then Cole showed her a photograph of the staircase landing.
Three drops of blood.
“Yours,” he said.
“How do you know?”
“Preliminary hospital comparison.”
Nora touched her bruised cheek.
“I don’t remember bleeding upstairs.”
“That concerns me.”
Cole produced another photograph.
A security camera mounted above the garage.
Nora frowned.
“That camera hasn’t worked in years.”
“It works now.”
“I didn’t repair it.”
“Someone did.”
Cole placed his phone on the table.
“We recovered footage from yesterday.”
Nora watched.
2:11 p.m.
Her car entered the driveway.
2:13.
Nora walked inside.
2:29.
A delivery truck passed the property.
2:34.
Nothing.
2:35.
Nothing.
Then the timestamp jumped.
2:47.
An ambulance arrived.
Nora stared.
“Twelve minutes are missing.”
“Yes.”
“Who deleted them?”
“We’re determining that.”
“Julian?”
“Possibly.”
“Victoria?”
“Possibly.”
Cole stopped the video.
“There’s something else.”
He enlarged the frame from 2:34.
A reflection appeared in the garage window.
A person standing outside.
Nora leaned closer.
The image was distorted by rain.
Male.
Tall.
Dark coat.
“Who is that?”
“We hoped you could tell us.”
“I can’t.”
Cole studied her.
“Your husband says no one else was present.”
“There shouldn’t have been.”
“Your mother-in-law says the same.”
Nora looked at the reflection again.
“Then they’re lying.”
Cole nodded.
“That’s my working assumption.”
Nora looked toward the door.
“Detective, someone texted me before you arrived.”
She showed him the message.
Ask about Section Fourteen.
Cole read it twice.
“Do you know what it means?”
“No.”
“Who has access to your grandfather’s trust?”
“His attorney. The trustee. Maybe the estate accountant.”
“Names?”
“Benjamin Cross was Grandpa’s attorney. Evelyn Shaw is the trustee.”
Cole wrote them down.
“Anyone else?”
Nora hesitated.
“There was another person.”
“Who?”
“My grandfather’s private secretary. Thomas Reed.”
“Where is he?”
“Dead.”
“When?”
“Three months before Grandpa.”
Cole’s pen stopped.
“How?”
“Car accident.”
“Any reason to think it wasn’t an accident?”
“No.”
But as Nora said it, she remembered Samuel’s funeral.
Victoria standing beside Thomas Reed’s widow.
Victoria whispering something.
The widow turning pale.
At the time Nora had thought nothing of it.
Now she wondered.
Cole collected the photographs.
“I’m putting an officer outside your room.”
“Do you think I’m in danger?”
“I think somebody deleted twelve minutes of video after you were badly injured inside a house worth almost nine million dollars.”
Nora said nothing.
Cole stood.
“And somebody wants you to read a sealed trust provision.”
He walked toward the door.
“Detective?”
He turned.
“What happens now?”
“We find out who was standing outside that house.”
After he left, Nora searched her email for Samuel’s estate documents.
The trust summary appeared quickly.
Section 1: Definitions.
Section 2: Beneficiaries.
Section 3: Property.
She scrolled.
Section 13: Restrictions on Transfer.
Then:
Section 14: Reserved.
No explanation.
Section 15 followed immediately.
Nora stared.
Reserved.
Why?
She called Benjamin Cross.
He answered on the second ring.
“Nora?”
“I need Section Fourteen.”
Silence.
“Where are you?”
“Hospital.”
“I know that.”
“Then you know what happened.”
Another silence.
“Benjamin.”
“I can’t discuss Section Fourteen over the phone.”
“Why?”
“Because your grandfather specifically prohibited it.”
Nora’s pulse accelerated.
“Until when?”
“Until activation.”
The exact word she would hear again thirty-six hours later.
Nora whispered, “Activation of what?”
Benjamin exhaled.
“Samuel was afraid something like this might happen.”
“What?”
“Someone trying to take the lake house.”
Nora felt suddenly nauseous.
“Who?”
“I’m coming to the hospital.”
“Benjamin, tell me now.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because if Section Fourteen has been activated, Nora, the lake house is the smallest problem your husband has.”
The call ended.
Nora stared at her phone.
Then the hospital-room door handle moved.
Slowly.
The officer outside said something.
A woman answered.
May you like
Nora recognized the voice.
Victoria.
