Chapter 4 - THIRTEEN MINUTES OF MISSING FOOTAGE|
Sunday morning arrived with a storm rolling over downtown Chicago.
Inside the Hawthorne Grand, Rosa Delgado had been awake all night.
The head of security sat before six monitors, reviewing surveillance footage from the wedding reception.
At 9:04 p.m., Eleanor's wheelchair appeared near the staircase.
At 9:05, the screen went black.
Then the recording resumed at 9:18.
Thirteen minutes.
Gone.
Rosa checked the recording system twice.
Then a third time.
“This is impossible,” she muttered.
A technician named Oliver Grant stood beside her.
“The system didn't crash.”
“What do you mean?”
“Someone authorized a manual interruption.”
Rosa turned.
“Who?”
Oliver opened the access log.
An employee identification number appeared.
C-H-047.
Colin Hayes.
Rosa leaned back.
“Print everything.”
Ten minutes later, Vivian Price entered the security office.
Rosa showed her the log.
Vivian's face tightened.
“Colin said he hadn't touched the security system.”
“Someone used his credentials.”
“Can we recover the footage?”
“Possibly. The ballroom cameras share partial coverage with the west service elevator.”
Oliver began opening archived files.
Meanwhile, upstairs, Ethan confronted his new wife.
Madison was sitting before a vanity, examining her reflection.
A makeup artist had spent an hour trying to conceal the evidence of her sleepless night.
“Did you know my grandmother was moved beside those stairs?” Ethan asked.
Madison sighed.
“Good morning to you too.”
“Answer me.”
“Your grandmother wasn't on the seating plan.”
“She's my grandmother.”
“And she showed up dressed like she was attending a church bake sale.”
Ethan stared at her.
“Is that really what matters to you?”
Madison stood.
“I spent eighteen months planning that wedding!”
“And Amara spent three seconds preventing a funeral!”
Madison recoiled.
“Don't shout at me.”
“Then stop pretending a dress matters more than a human life.”
For a moment, Madison looked almost frightened.
Then her expression hardened.
“You don't understand how much pressure my family is under.”
“What pressure?”
She looked away.
“Forget it.”
Downstairs, Oliver suddenly leaned closer to his monitor.
“Rosa. Look at this.”
Grainy footage showed a man entering a service corridor shortly before the accident.
His face was hidden beneath a baseball cap.
But his clothing was distinctive.
A dark suit.
Brown leather gloves.
And a silver watch with a blue face.
Rosa paused the recording.
The man was carrying a small black tool pouch.
He approached the storage alcove where Eleanor's wheelchair had been parked earlier that evening.
Then he disappeared from view.
Vivian whispered, “Who is that?”
Rosa enlarged the image.
The face remained hidden.
But the watch was unmistakable.
She had seen it before.
On the wrist of someone who had spent the entire wedding night pretending to be helpful.
Someone who had stood beside Patricia Crane during the ceremony.
May you like
Rosa reached for her phone.
“We have a much bigger problem than a missing video.”
