I looked at the evidence form between us. Her pen rested beside the line where she had written smoke detector.
“I need to explain that carefully.”
“Then start with the date.”
“Three weeks ago.”
She wrote 21 days before today.
“Why?”
“Aaron had been in my room.”
Elena looked up. “Searching for what?”
“He said he was looking for money.”
“Did you report that?”
“To my father.”
“And?”
“He told me I was making a problem out of nothing.”
Elena waited. She did not fill the silence for me.
“I did not put it there to catch him. I put it there because I stopped trusting my own memory.”
She wrote that sentence down.
“Was the camera recording continuously?”
“Yes.”
“Did anyone
else know?”
“No.”
That answer seemed to settle one question and open another.
“Where is the device now?”
“Above my bookshelf.”
Elena capped her pen. “We are going back for it.”
At 5:35, the bedroom had become an evidence scene, with the open bag resting on the bed beside the lamp.
Elena stood beneath the smoke detector while I pointed toward the shelf.
“Do not touch it.”
“I won’t.”
She put on gloves, removed the device, and held it over the bag. The cable came free with a soft click.
“There is a memory card.”
I stared at it.
Elena checked the device, then checked the evidence form.
“What date did you say you installed this?”
“Three weeks ago.”
She looked at the timestamp.
“The first file is dated February 8.”
“That is three weeks ago.”
“No. Today is March 1.”
She turned the screen toward me.
There were
files from February 8, February 9, February 10, and dates after them.
