Chapter 4: The Man in the Recording
The second video began with Vanessa standing in the hallway, her phone pressed against her ear.
My father leaned forward, one hand braced against the desk.
I stood behind him, trying to ignore the dull ache in my cheek. Every instinct told me that whatever we were about to discover would be worse than what we had already seen.
On the screen, Vanessa checked the time on her phone.
Then she walked to the front door and opened it.
The man in the dark jacket stepped inside.
Unlike the first recording, this angle captured part of his face. He was in his forties, with close-cropped hair and a thin scar near his chin. He looked around the hallway before placing his black case on the table beneath the camera.
Vanessa pointed toward the lens.
The man shook his head.
She said something, gestured impatiently, then took out her phone again.
My father paused the footage.
“Do you recognize him?”” he asked me.
I studied the man's face.
“No.””
“Think carefully, Ethan.””
“Dad, I have never seen him before.””
Marcus looked uncomfortable at the sharpness in my voice.
He had asked me to remember, as though I were the one who had brought a stranger into our house.
I swallowed my anger.
“Play it.””
My father restarted the video.
The man opened his case and removed a small electronic device. He climbed onto the bench beneath the camera, inspected the wiring, and connected the device to something hidden behind the mounting bracket.
Vanessa watched anxiously.
At one point, the man pointed toward the camera and shook his head again.
She stepped closer and jabbed a finger toward his chest.
Whatever she said seemed to convince him.
He continued working.
A minute later, he climbed down and packed his equipment away. Before leaving, he handed Vanessa a small black object that fit inside her palm.
She examined it, nodded, and slipped it into her pocket.
Then she smiled.
Not the nervous smile she had worn when my father questioned her.
Not the embarrassed smile she sometimes used when caught in a minor lie.
This smile was different.
It belonged to someone who believed she had successfully arranged something terrible and would never have to answer for it.
My father stopped the video.
For a long moment, he stared at the screen.
“Who the hell is this man?”” he whispered.
Vanessa stood near the doorway, hugging herself.
“Marcus, I can explain.””
He turned toward her.
“Then explain.””
“I hired someone to check the security equipment.””
“Why?””
“Because I was worried about the house.””
“Worried about what?””
She glanced at me.
My father noticed.
“Stop looking at Ethan and answer me.””
Vanessa pressed her lips together.
“I thought someone might be accessing our cameras without permission.””
I almost laughed.
“You brought a stranger into the house to protect us from strangers?””
Her eyes flashed.
“You have no idea how stressful it is to live here.””
“I'm starting to understand.””
Marcus raised a hand between us.
“Both of you, stop. Vanessa, do you have a receipt? An email? Anything that identifies this technician?””
She hesitated.
“I arranged it privately.””
“Through what company?””
“An independent contractor.””
“What is his name?””
She looked away.
“I don't remember.””
My father stared at her.
“You hired a man, let him tamper with my security system, and you don't remember his name?””
“I was upset, Marcus!””
“Before or after he arrived?””
She opened her mouth, then closed it again.
I watched the color drain from her face.
Marcus turned back to the computer and paused the recording on a frame that showed the man's face clearly.
“We're going to find out who he is.””
Vanessa stepped forward.
“Please don't involve the police. They'll turn this into something much bigger than it needs to be.””
“Bigger than what?””
“A family disagreement!””
I felt something hot rise in my chest.
“You accused me of attacking you. Dad punched me. And now there's footage of you arranging something with a stranger before it happened. How is that a family disagreement?””
Her expression hardened.
“You need to be careful, Ethan.””
“No. You do.””
For the first time, I didn't lower my eyes.
She looked genuinely surprised.
My father turned toward me, and I braced myself for another demand that I behave respectfully.
Instead, he said, “She's right about one thing. We need to understand what happened before we decide our next move.””
I stared at him.
“Are you serious?””
“Ethan—”
“You watched her rip her own dress. You watched her lie. You watched yourself hit me because she told you to. What else do you need to understand?””
Marcus flinched.
Vanessa moved toward him, sensing weakness.
“Marcus, he's using this footage to turn you against me.””
He stepped away from her.
“Don't.””
The single word stopped her.
My father returned to the computer and began searching through the remaining files.
The system had recorded the front entrance for several hours. There were clips of delivery drivers, our neighbor collecting a package, and a stray cat wandering across the porch.
Then Marcus found another recording.
It showed Vanessa meeting the same man outside the house three days earlier.
She stood beside a silver sedan parked near the curb. The man handed her an envelope.
She opened it, examined its contents, and slipped it inside her handbag.
Before they separated, she took his hand.
He kissed her cheek.
I stared at the screen.
My father didn't say anything.
He merely rewound the clip and watched it again.
“Do you know him now?”” he asked Vanessa.
She shook her head.
“No.””
Marcus's face tightened.
“He's kissed you, and you still don't know who he is?””
“It was a greeting!””
“That isn't how you greeted the delivery driver who brought your groceries yesterday.””
“Don't be ridiculous.””
My father looked at the footage again.
Then he noticed something in the corner of the frame.
The silver sedan's license plate.
He enlarged the image and wrote down the number.
“I'm going to have someone identify this vehicle.””
Vanessa's composure cracked.
“You can't be serious.””
“I've never been more serious in my life.””
“You're going to destroy our marriage over a man you saw on a security recording?””
Marcus turned toward her.
“No, Vanessa. I'm beginning to wonder whether our marriage is something you wanted to use to get what you needed.””
She recoiled as if he had struck her.
For a second, she looked less like a frightened wife and more like someone calculating how much trouble she was in.
Then she started crying again.
“I gave up so much for you,” she whispered.
“I left my old life behind. I helped raise Ethan. I made this house a home.””
I looked at the faded photograph on the shelf behind my father's desk.
My mother stood in front of that same house, holding me in her arms.
The home hadn't needed to be made.
It had been one before Vanessa ever arrived.
“You replaced Mom's furniture, removed her pictures, and told me her things were worthless,” I said.
“You didn't make this house a home. You made it a place where I was afraid to speak.””
Vanessa turned on me.
“You ungrateful little—”
“Vanessa!”” Marcus shouted.
She stopped.
He had finally heard her speak without the sugary voice she used in front of him.
He had finally seen the woman beneath it.
My father took out his phone.
“I'm contacting the security company. They'll tell me whether this man was authorized to modify the system.””
Vanessa hurried toward him.
“Marcus, wait.””
He lifted the phone to his ear.
She grabbed his arm, then released it when he looked down at her hand.
“Please,” she said.
“I need you to understand something before you make a call you'll regret.””
“What?””
Her eyes moved toward the computer.
Then toward me.
And the answer she finally gave made my blood turn cold.
“If that man tells you what I paid him to do, you'll lose everything you think you know about me.””
Marcus slowly lowered the phone.
“What did you pay him to do, Vanessa?””
She said nothing.
I heard the clock ticking on the wall.
Then, suddenly, a notification sounded from the computer.
A new file had appeared in the local archive.
It was dated four weeks earlier.
Marcus clicked it.
The recording showed Vanessa sitting alone in his office, opening the bottom drawer of his desk.
She removed a thick folder.
My father stiffened.
I recognized the folder.
It contained documents related to my mother's estate.
Vanessa turned the pages, selected one document, and took a photograph of it with her phone.
Then she placed the folder back in the drawer.
Before leaving, she looked directly toward the camera.
Her lips moved.
My father leaned closer to the screen.
This time, neither of us needed to read her lips to understand the meaning of the recording.
May you like
She had been planning something long before she tore her dress.
And whatever she wanted from the documents in that folder, she was willing to destroy me to get it.
