Chapter 2: The Woman in the Recording
Daniel waited until Mia locked herself in the upstairs bathroom before opening the camera account.
He sat alone at the kitchen island, the room suddenly feeling unfamiliar. The refrigerator hummed. Rain tapped against the windows. Somewhere upstairs, a faucet ran, stopped, and started again.
His father's untouched cup of tea sat beside the sink.
Daniel stared at it for several seconds before opening the website on his laptop.
The camera account displayed a list of dates and times.
September 29.
September 30.
October 1.
October 2.
Each date contained dozens of recordings, most only a few minutes long. The system had captured ordinary fragments of family life: Thomas watering the plants, Mia carrying laundry, Daniel arriving home after dark.
Nothing seemed unusual.
Then he clicked October 2.
A video opened.
The dining room appeared on the screen, empty except for the long wooden table and the framed photograph of Daniel's mother hanging on the wall.
At 2:14 p.m., Thomas entered carrying a grocery bag.
He set it on the table and began putting away the vegetables.
At 2:19 p.m., Mia walked in.
She wore the cream sweater Daniel had bought her for their anniversary. Her phone was pressed to her ear, and she was speaking in a low voice.
The recording had no sound at first.
Daniel leaned closer.
Mia paced between the table and the window. She glanced toward the hallway twice, then pulled out a chair and sat down.
At 2:23 p.m., she looked directly toward the camera.
Daniel felt his pulse quicken.
She knew exactly where it was.
He checked the settings. Audio was available, but the recording was muted. He turned the sound up and restarted the clip.
Mia's voice filled the kitchen.
“I'm telling you, he's getting suspicious.””
A pause.
“No, Daniel doesn't suspect anything. He's too busy trying to save everyone.””
Daniel's fingers froze over the keyboard.
Mia leaned forward, her elbows resting on the table.
“I just need another month. Once the money comes through, I can handle the rest.””
Another pause.
Then she laughed.
Not nervously.
Not like someone frightened or cornered.
It was the relaxed laugh Daniel knew from their private conversations, the one she used when she believed nobody else could hear her.
“Don't worry about Thomas. He'll be gone soon enough.””
Daniel stopped breathing.
On the recording, Mia suddenly glanced toward the hallway.
“Wait. Someone's coming.””
She ended the call.
Thomas entered carrying a basket of clean towels.
“Would you like some tea, Mia?”” he asked.
She smiled at him.
“That would be lovely, Thomas. Thank you.””
Daniel stared at the screen.
The woman who had just spoken about making his father disappear was now smiling at the old man as if he were a beloved relative.
Thomas placed the towels on a chair.
“Are you feeling all right?”” he asked.
“You look pale.””
“Just tired,” Mia replied.
“You should get some rest.””
“I will.””
Thomas turned toward the kitchen.
As he passed the dining table, Mia's smile vanished.
She watched him leave, then took her phone from her pocket and typed something.
Daniel paused the video.
His mouth had gone dry.
He replayed the conversation, then watched the next few minutes.
Nothing dramatic happened. Mia folded a napkin. Thomas returned with a cup of tea. They exchanged polite remarks about the weather.
But now every movement looked different.
Daniel felt sick.
He skipped forward to the afternoon recording from October 5.
At 4:07 p.m., Mia entered the dining room carrying a small envelope. She looked around, then placed it beneath a stack of mail.
She took out her phone and photographed the envelope.
A moment later, Thomas walked in.
“Is that the electric bill?”” he asked.
Mia jumped.
“What?””
“The envelope. I thought the electric bill came yesterday.””
“Oh, this? Just something for work.””
Thomas nodded.
“Everything all right?””
“Perfectly fine.””
He moved toward the cabinet.
Mia waited until his back was turned, then slipped the envelope into her handbag.
Daniel rubbed his forehead.
He wanted the recordings to reveal something simple. Something that would allow him to apologize to his father, explain his wife's panic as a misunderstanding, and somehow return their family to what it had been.
Instead, every clip opened another door.
He selected October 9.
At 11:36 a.m., Thomas sat alone at the dining table, reading a newspaper. Mia entered with her phone in one hand and a bottle of water in the other.
She placed the bottle on the table.
“Thomas, could you do me a favor?””
“Of course.””
“Would you mind taking this package to the post office when you go out?””
She handed him a small cardboard box.
Thomas examined the label.
“What's inside?””
“Work documents.””
“Wouldn't it be easier to have them collected?””
“I'd rather handle it this way.””
Thomas looked at her for a moment.
“All right.””
He took the box.
Mia smiled and kissed his cheek.
“Thank you. You're a lifesaver.””
When Thomas left the room, she immediately opened her phone and made another call.
Daniel increased the volume.
“Yes,” she said.
“He took it.””
A pause.
“No, he didn't open it. Why would he?””
Her face hardened.
“Listen, if this doesn't work, I have another plan. But you need to stop calling me here.””
Daniel closed the laptop.
He sat motionless, his palms pressed against the counter.
The house seemed to tilt around him.
He had seen enough to know that Mia had been hiding something serious. But he still didn't know what it was, who she was speaking to, or why his father had become the center of her plans.
Then he remembered the final recording from October 2.
He reopened the account and selected 2:41 p.m.
Mia was alone in the dining room.
She pulled a document from her handbag and spread it across the table.
Daniel zoomed in.
The image sharpened slowly.
At the top of the page were the words *Power of Attorney*.
Below them was his father's full legal name.
Thomas Edward Whitmore.
Daniel leaned closer.
The document appeared to authorize someone else to manage Thomas's financial affairs. He could make out a signature at the bottom, but the image was too blurry to read it clearly.
Mia took a photograph of the page.
Then she opened a drawer and removed a small black notebook.
She flipped to a marked page and wrote something down.
Daniel paused the recording.
He stared at the document until the words blurred.
His father had money, but not the kind of money that would make anyone rich. He owned a modest investment portfolio, a paid-off car, and a small insurance policy left by Daniel's mother.
Still, Daniel remembered something Thomas had mentioned several months earlier.
The sale of the family home had gone through at a much higher price than expected.
Thomas had planned to put most of the proceeds into a trust for Daniel's future children.
They didn't have children yet, but it was something Thomas had spoken about with quiet pride.
Daniel had never asked for the details.
He had trusted his father.
And he had trusted Mia.
A floorboard creaked upstairs.
Daniel quickly minimized the video.
Mia appeared at the top of the staircase a moment later, her eyes swollen from crying.
“Daniel?””
He closed the laptop.
“What?””
She descended slowly, one hand on the railing.
“Can we talk?””
“About what?””
“About your father.””
Daniel looked at her for a long moment.
“What about him?””
Mia swallowed.
“I know you saw something.””
“Then you know why I want answers.””
She walked to the island and sat opposite him.
“I was scared,” she whispered.
“Things were getting out of control.””
“What things?””
She twisted her wedding ring.
“Your father has been behaving strangely. He forgets conversations. He moves things around. Sometimes he says things that don't make sense.””
“Is that why you were discussing him with someone on the phone?””
Her eyes widened.
Daniel knew then that she hadn't expected him to find the recording.
“Who were you talking to?””
“My sister.””
“Which sister?””
“Lauren.””
“You told me Lauren was in Seattle.””
“She was.””
“Then why did you say someone was coming?””
Mia stared at him.
For several seconds, she said nothing.
Then she leaned forward and whispered, “Because I was talking about a man you don't know.””
Daniel felt a cold chill creep up his back.
“Who?””
Before she could answer, the front door opened.
Thomas stepped inside carrying a paper bag from the pharmacy. He stopped when he saw them sitting together.
“Am I interrupting?”” he asked.
Mia immediately stood.
“No, Thomas. We were just talking.””
Thomas looked at Daniel.
“Did you watch it?””
Daniel nodded.
His father placed the pharmacy bag on the counter.
“Then you know I didn't attack her today.””
Daniel looked down at his hands.
“I don't know what to believe.””
Thomas's expression softened, but only slightly.
“That's fair.””
Mia grabbed her handbag.
“I need some air.””
She headed toward the front door.
Daniel rose.
“Not yet.””
She stopped.
“Excuse me?””
“You're going to tell me who you were talking to.””
Mia turned slowly.
For the first time since Daniel had known her, there was no sadness in her expression. No pleading. No attempt to appear wounded.
Only cold calculation.
“You really should have left that recording alone,” she said.
Then she reached into her handbag and pulled out a folded document.
Daniel recognized the heading immediately.
It was another power of attorney.
But this one had his name on it.
And beneath his signature was a date from six months earlier, when he had been hospitalized after a car accident and heavily medicated.
He stared at the paper.
“I never signed this.””
Mia's eyes filled with tears again.
“No,” she whispered.
“You didn't.””
Thomas took a step forward.
“Daniel, don't touch that paper. Call a lawyer.””
But Daniel was already reaching for it.
Because at the bottom of the page, beside a witness signature, was a name he had not expected to see.
*Lauren Whitmore.*
May you like
His mother's sister.
A woman who had been dead for eleven years.
