Daniel was silent for several seconds.
“Have you spoken to your family?”
“No.”
“Good. Don’t yet.”
“I canceled the cards.”
“That was reasonable. Take screenshots of every transaction before anything changes. Download full statements. Save the note. Save all messages.”
“I already took pictures.”
“What about the apartment cameras?”
I leaned against the wall.
The security cameras.
I had installed three of them after a package theft the previous year—one at the front door, one in the living room, and one overlooking the kitchen entrance. Maya had initially disliked the idea, so we had agreed never to place cameras in bedrooms or private areas.
The footage uploaded automatically to cloud storage.
“I haven’t checked,” I said.
“Check before you contact anyone.”
I returned to the room and opened the security application.
The first thing I noticed was that the kitchen camera had gone offline six days earlier.
The second was that it had not malfunctioned.
It had been manually disconnected.
The living room camera remained active.
I began with the previous morning.
At 8:12 a.m., my mother entered the frame wearing a linen travel suit and sunglasses. Chloe followed, carrying a suitcase. Mark came behind her with two more bags.
Maya stood near the sofa holding Liam.
Even through the small screen, I could see how carefully she moved.
My mother said something. The camera had audio, but the television was on, and the words were difficult to hear.
I increased the volume.
“You have food in the pantry,” Eleanor said.
“There are two packets of noodles,” Maya replied. “And crackers.”
“You said you didn’t have an appetite.”
“I said I felt nauseated.”
“Then noodles are perfect.”
Chloe walked through the room holding a white garment bag.
“Mom, we’re going to miss the car.”
Maya shifted Liam to her other arm.
“At least leave the formula Dr. Stein prescribed.”
Mark stopped beside the open suitcase.
“That stuff cost almost eighty dollars a tin.”
“It’s what his doctor recommended.”
