Chapter 3 - THE CAMERA IN THE WALL
Michael was back at the mansion before dawn.
Noah remained at the hospital under armed guard with Emily sitting outside his room.
Michael had wanted her with him.
Emily had refused.
"Your son is the target."
She had looked him directly in the eye.
"So I stay where your son is."
Michael had not argued.
That decision bothered Frank.
Michael could see it during the entire drive north.
Rain sheeted across the windshield while the armored SUV cut through empty roads.
Frank sat beside him in silence.
Neither man spoke until the mansion gates appeared through the storm.
Michael finally broke the silence.
"How long have you known the name Blue Harbor?"
Frank looked out the window.
"Years."
"How many?"
"Fifteen."
Michael laughed softly.
"We have known each other seventeen years."
"I know."
"So for almost our entire friendship, you have had a secret connected to the substance used on my son."
Frank's face hardened.
"That is not what I said."
"It is what I heard."
The SUV stopped beneath the covered drive.
Frank opened his door.
Michael caught his sleeve.
"If you lie to me again tonight, I will know."
Frank looked at him.
"No, you won't."
Michael released him.
That answer stayed with him as they entered the house.
The nursery had been turned into a crime scene.
A section of decorative molding had been removed from the east wall.
Behind it sat a camera no bigger than the tip of a finger.
A thin fiber line ran down inside the wall.
Dawson, one of Michael's senior security men, stood beside the opening.
"No wireless transmission."
Michael looked at him.
"Meaning?"
"Hardwired."
Dawson pointed toward the floor.
"Whoever installed it fed the line through the wall cavity."
Frank crouched beside the opening.
"Where does it terminate?"
"We don't know yet."
"Find out."
Dawson nodded.
Michael looked around the room.
Noah's bottle still sat on the dresser.
A tiny sock lay beneath the rocker.
The sight of it almost broke his concentration.
He forced himself to focus.
"When was this room renovated?"
Frank answered immediately.
"Four months ago."
Michael turned.
"After Claire died."
"Yes."
Michael's late wife had chosen the nursery before Noah was born.
She had spent weeks arguing about paint colors, curtains, and whether the room needed custom shelving.
After her death, Michael had changed almost nothing.
The only renovation had happened because a pipe burst in the adjoining bathroom.
Frank had managed the repairs.
Michael looked at him.
Frank understood the question before it was spoken.
"Do not do that."
"Do what?"
"Turn every fact into an accusation."
"You hired the contractors."
"I hired the company."
"You approved the workers."
"My office did."
"Your office is you."
Frank stood.
"If I wanted to spy on your nursery, Michael, I would not use a camera your own security team could find in ten minutes."
"It took them four months."
Frank said nothing.
Dawson cleared his throat.
"There's more."
Both men looked at him.
"The camera had local storage."
"Had?"
"The card is gone."
Michael's hands curled into fists.
"When was it removed?"
"Recently."
"How recently?"
"The wall plate has fresh tool marks."
Frank stared at the molding.
"Tonight."
Dawson nodded.
"Most likely."
Michael turned toward the doorway.
"Margaret."
Frank stepped in front of him.
"She is being questioned downstairs."
"Then I'm joining."
"No."
Michael stopped.
Frank held his ground.
"You are not questioning anyone while your son is in intensive care and you have not slept."
Michael smiled without warmth.
"You are confusing friendship with authority."
"And you are confusing rage with judgment."
For a second, Dawson looked as though he wanted to disappear through the wall.
Michael walked past Frank.
Margaret sat in the breakfast room with two guards at the door.
Her eyes were swollen.
Her hands shook around a cup of untouched tea.
When Michael entered, she stood too quickly and knocked the cup over.
"Mr. Carter."
"Sit."
She sat.
Michael remained standing.
Frank entered behind him.
Margaret's eyes flicked toward Frank.
Again, Michael saw fear.
"Margaret, who was in the nursery between eight and nine tonight?"
"Me."
"Only you?"
"Mostly."
Michael leaned closer.
"Mostly is not only."
Margaret swallowed.
"Dr. Mercer came in."
Frank's head snapped toward her.
Michael went still.
Dr. Alan Mercer was Noah's pediatrician.
He had been Claire's doctor during the final months of her pregnancy.
He had attended Noah's birth.
He had eaten at Michael's table twice.
"Why was Mercer here?"
"He said he wanted to check Noah because of the cough from last week."
Michael stared at her.
"Noah does not have a cough."
Margaret began to cry again.
"I know."
"Then why did you let him in?"
"Because he is his doctor."
"At eight-thirty at night without calling me?"
"He said you knew."
Michael looked at Frank.
"Did I?"
"No."
"Did you?"
"No."
Margaret wiped her face.
"He was only upstairs for a few minutes."
Michael's voice dropped.
"Did he touch Noah?"
"He checked him."
"Did he undress him?"
Margaret hesitated.
That hesitation answered everything.
"He lifted his shirt."
Michael gripped the back of a chair.
"And you watched him?"
"I was warming a bottle."
"So you did not watch him."
"No."
Michael turned toward Frank.
"Find Mercer."
Frank already had his phone out.
Margaret made a small sound.
"There is something else."
Michael looked back.
"Say it."
She stared at Frank.
"He told me to keep the nursery warm."
Frank stopped dialing.
"Who?"
"Dr. Mercer."
Michael's voice became very quiet.
"How warm?"
"Eighty degrees."
"Why?"
"He said Noah had been running cold."
Michael thought of Emily's warning.
Stop warming him.
He looked at Frank.
"Mercer knew."
Frank's phone was already ringing.
No answer.
He tried again.
Still no answer.
Dawson entered the breakfast room.
"We traced the hidden camera line."
Frank lowered his phone.
"Where?"
Dawson's face looked wrong.
"Basement level."
"Security room?"
"No."
"Then where?"
Dawson glanced at Michael.
"Your wife's old wine room."
Michael stopped breathing.
Claire had been the only person who used that room.
After she died, Michael locked it.
He had not opened the door in four months.
"Get the key."
Frank did not move.
Michael turned toward him.
"Get the key."
"Michael."
"What?"
Frank looked toward the guards.
"We should clear the house first."
Michael's eyes narrowed.
"Why?"
"Because if the camera terminates in that room, someone has had access to a space that should be sealed."
"Exactly."
"Which means we do not know what else is down there."
Michael stared at him.
"You are afraid of that room."
Frank's expression went flat.
"I am careful."
"No."
Michael stepped closer.
"You are afraid."
Frank held his gaze.
"Sometimes those are the same thing."
They went downstairs with Dawson and two armed guards.
The wine room sat at the end of a narrow corridor beyond the main cellar.
Michael had not seen the door since the week after Claire's funeral.
Her brass key still hung on a hook inside his private office.
Dawson brought it down.
Michael inserted it.
The lock turned.
Cold air rolled out when the door opened.
The room smelled of cedar, dust, and Claire's favorite perfume.
Michael almost stepped back.
Wine racks lined three walls.
A narrow tasting table stood in the center.
Everything looked untouched.
Then Dawson pointed beneath the table.
A fiber line ran into a black metal box fixed beneath the wood.
Frank moved toward it.
Michael caught his arm.
"Don't."
Frank looked at him.
Michael knelt.
The box had no manufacturer mark.
Only a small keypad.
Above the keypad was a strip of faded white tape.
Claire's handwriting covered it.
Michael recognized every letter.
IF MICHAEL FINDS THIS, FRANK LIED.
Nobody moved.
Michael read it again.
Then a third time.
Dawson slowly stepped away from Frank.
The guards did the same.
Frank stared at the message.
For the first time that night, he looked genuinely shocked.
Michael stood.
"Tell me she was talking about another Frank."
Frank said nothing.
"Tell me."
Frank finally looked at him.
"I can't."
Michael's face hardened.
"Then start talking."
Before Frank could answer, every light in the basement went out.
Darkness swallowed the room.
A gunshot exploded in the corridor.
Someone screamed.
Then the wine room door slammed shut.
Michael heard the lock turn from the other side.
And in the dark beside him, Frank whispered one sentence.
May you like
"They know we found it."
