CHAPTER 4 — Seven Hours of Evidence
The police arrived the next morning.
Detective Hannah Brooks sat beside my hospital bed with a small recorder placed between us.
She had already listened to Valerie’s voicemail.
“Did Ms. Carter know you were going to the department store?”
“I never told her.”
“Did your husband know?”
“Yes. I texted him that morning.”
Detective Brooks wrote something down.
“Did he respond?”
“He sent a thumbs-up.”
The detective’s expression revealed nothing.
“Did you notice Ms. Carter before entering the elevator?”
I searched my memory.
Crowded store.
Bright shopping bags.
Perfume counters.
Families moving toward the escalators.
Then I remembered a blonde woman standing near the jewelry department, looking down at her phone.
“I may have seen her.”
“Did she enter before or after you?”
“After.”
The detective closed her notebook.
“We’re reviewing security footage.”
Before leaving, she stopped near the door.
“Mrs. Miller, elevator failures are uncommon. An emergency stop can be activated manually, but the mechanism is located behind a locked panel.”
“Was the panel opened?”
“We don’t know yet.”
That afternoon, Tyler—the delivery driver trapped with us—came to visit.
His left arm was covered in scratches, but he smiled when he saw me.
“I brought something.”
He placed his phone on the table.
“I was recording during the last hour.”
“Why?”
“My boss never believes me when deliveries go wrong.”
Despite everything, I almost laughed.
Tyler opened an audio file.
At first, the recording captured only breathing, quiet crying, and the occasional metallic groan from the elevator.
Then Valerie’s voice emerged.
Faint.
Almost too quiet to hear.
“I knew he would come.”
Another woman asked, “Who?”
Valerie responded:
“Alex.”
A few seconds later, Tyler’s own voice could be heard asking how she knew which fire station would respond.
Valerie did not answer.
Then came a small metallic click.
I leaned closer to the phone.
“What was that?”
Tyler replayed it.
Click.
Scrape.
Snap.
“I heard it around the time the lights went out,” he said. “Valerie was near the control panel.”
My mother folded her arms.
“Why didn’t you say anything inside the elevator?”
“It was dark. I didn’t know what she was doing.”
Detective Brooks returned and took possession of the recording.
The next morning, investigators opened the emergency control panel.
Inside, wedged beside the damaged lock, they found a small piece of gold metal.
It had broken from a bracelet.
In my memory, Valerie’s bracelets had clicked together every time she trembled.
The detective placed a photograph in front of me.
The broken piece was shaped like a tiny letter.
An A.
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And in the department store’s security footage, Valerie had entered the elevator wearing a bracelet that spelled one name.
ALEX.
