Chapter 2 - The Missing Eleven Minutes
Detective Sofia Reyes arrived at 2:14 in the morning.
She wore a dark gray coat over plain clothes and carried a small notebook that looked older than Lily. Her black hair was tied behind her head, and a thin scar ran across her right eyebrow.
Daniel noticed that she did not begin by asking him questions.
She began by looking at Lily.
Then she studied the X-ray.
Then the bruising visible beneath the bandages.
Only after speaking privately with Dr. Ward did she approach Daniel.
“I’m Detective Reyes. I handle major assaults.”
“They told you it was a fall.”
“They told me many things.”
Daniel handed her the apology letter.
Reyes read it beneath the cold light above the sink.
Her expression did not change until she turned the page over.
“Is this your daughter’s handwriting?”
“Yes.”
“You’re certain?”
“I taught her to write her name.”
Reyes placed the letter inside an evidence sleeve.
“Who had access to her before the ambulance arrived?”
“Those three boys. Maybe the dean.”
“They are adults.”
Daniel looked through the door.
“They didn’t act like it.”
Reyes wrote down the names.
When she reached Dean Voss, she paused.
“You know him?” Daniel asked.
“I know of him.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means Westbridge University has a private security department, a legal response team, and donors who return calls from people in this building faster than the mayor does.”
Daniel looked at Lily.
“That isn’t what I asked.”
Reyes closed the notebook.
“It means investigations involving Westbridge often become complicated.”
Dr. Ward entered with a tablet.
“We reviewed the first neurological images again.”
Daniel stood.
“Is she worse?”
“Not at this moment. But there is something else.”
He placed the tablet on the counter and enlarged a scan.
“Lily has bruising on both wrists. There are pressure marks around her upper arms. Her injuries are not consistent with a simple stairway fall.”
Reyes leaned closer.
“What are they consistent with?”
“Being restrained before impact.”
Daniel’s stomach tightened.
Dr. Ward changed the image.
“There is also a narrow contusion behind the left ear. It could have been caused by a hard object.”
“A weapon?” Reyes asked.
“Possibly.”
Daniel pictured the silver watch on Mason’s wrist. Bryce’s ring. Connor’s phone.
“Can you prove it?”
Dr. Ward looked at him.
“I can document it.”
Reyes’s phone vibrated.
She read the message and exhaled sharply.
“What?” Daniel asked.
“The university sent surveillance footage from the east stairwell.”
“That was fast.”
“Too fast.”
They watched the footage in a small consultation room beside the emergency department.
The video had no audio.
At 11:42 p.m., Lily appeared at the top of the stairwell. She moved unsteadily, one hand touching the wall.
At 11:43, she disappeared beyond the camera’s view.
At 11:54, Bryce, Connor, and Mason entered the stairwell from the lower floor.
They looked down.
Bryce made a call.
The footage skipped.
At 12:02, university security arrived.
Daniel leaned toward the screen.
“Go back.”
Reyes replayed it.
11:43.
Lily disappeared.
11:54.
The students entered.
Daniel pointed.
“Eleven minutes.”
Reyes nodded.
“The recording jumps eleven minutes.”
“Where did they go?”
“There is no footage.”
“There has to be.”
“The university says the camera system experienced a network interruption.”
Daniel laughed once, without humor.
“Only while my daughter was being attacked?”
Reyes paused the image on Mason’s face.
“He is carrying something.”
A dark object protruded from beneath Mason’s coat.
Reyes enlarged the frame. The image pixelated.
It might have been a phone.
It might have been a small tablet.
Or a black notebook.
“Can you arrest them?” Daniel asked.
“Not yet.”
“They were there.”
“Being present is not enough. We need physical evidence, reliable witnesses, or a statement from Lily.”
Daniel looked through the glass wall toward the trauma room.
“She can’t speak.”
“I know.”
A hospital administrator entered without knocking.
Gerald Pike was a narrow man with silver glasses and a tie that appeared too tight around his throat.
“Detective, I need a word.”
“Say it here,” Reyes replied.
Pike glanced at Daniel.
“This concerns patient privacy.”
“I’m her father.”
“She is legally an adult.”
“She is unconscious.”
Pike smiled with professional emptiness.
“Westbridge’s legal representative has requested that no unauthorized personnel access Miss Mercer’s records.”
Dr. Ward stepped forward.
“They do not control her records.”
“The Hale Foundation provides thirty-two percent of this trauma center’s private funding.”
Dr. Ward’s voice turned cold.
“And Lily Mercer is my patient.”
Pike looked toward the X-ray screen.
“The family may wish to consider transferring her to another facility.”
“No,” Daniel said.
Pike turned.
“No?”
“You want her moved before she wakes up.”
“That is an outrageous accusation.”
Daniel stepped closer.
“Then why are you afraid of her staying?”
Pike’s face tightened.
Reyes placed herself between them.
“Mr. Pike, do not touch the patient’s records, room assignment, or care plan without consulting Dr. Ward and me.”
“You cannot order me to run this hospital.”
“No. But I can document obstruction.”
Pike stared at her for several seconds.
Then he left.
Dr. Ward closed the door.
“He will make calls.”
“So will I,” Reyes said.
Daniel looked at the frozen footage again.
Lily at 11:43.
Three students at 11:54.
Eleven missing minutes.
Reyes rewound the video and examined the lower corner of the screen.
A faint reflection appeared in the stairwell window.
A fourth figure.
The person stood behind the camera’s blind spot, wearing what looked like a university security uniform.
Reyes enlarged the reflection.
The face remained hidden.
But the figure’s right hand was visible.
One finger was missing.
Daniel remembered the man who had escorted Lily into her freshman dormitory on her first day.
The head of university security.
Calvin Rusk.
He was missing the little finger on his right hand.
Before Daniel could say the name, alarms sounded from Lily’s room.
Dr. Ward ran.
Daniel followed.
Inside, nurses surrounded the bed. The ventilator alarm screamed. Lily’s heart rate rose sharply across the monitor.
Her body trembled.
Daniel grabbed the bedrail.
“What is happening?”
Dr. Ward checked her pupils.
“She’s reacting to something.”
Lily’s right hand moved beneath the sheet.
Her fingers curled.
Then they tapped against the mattress.
Three quick taps.
A pause.
Two slow taps.
Three quick taps again.
Daniel froze.
When Lily had been a child, they used a simple family signal whenever she was frightened.
Three quick.
Two slow.
Three quick.
May you like
It meant one thing.
Someone is watching.
