Chapter 4 - SIXTEEN MISSING MINUTES
Paige moved quickly once Audrey told her about the camera. She did not want Audrey accessing or altering the device herself.
Instead, she documented its location, notified the responding officer, and requested preservation of any cloud footage connected to the account. Dustin’s text arrived before Audrey even left the building.
Why were police in my home? The speed of the message answered one question. He had been watching. Audrey showed Paige the text. “Good,” Paige said.
“Save it.” By evening, the camera manufacturer confirmed that the device used a cloud account registered to Dustin’s email. Access logs showed recent remote viewing from his phone.
More importantly, the camera had recorded continuously on the day of the assault. Except for sixteen minutes. The missing period began at 3:08 p.m. It ended at 3:24.
Audrey had entered the apartment at approximately 3:19. “The exact window,” she said. Paige nodded. “Someone deleted it.” “Can it be recovered?” “Maybe.”
The cloud provider retained system metadata even when users deleted clips. Paige requested that preservation notices be sent immediately. Meanwhile, Malik found something else.
A cashier’s check for $10,500 had been purchased two days before the assault from an account connected to Cedar Pike. The memo field read CASH RESERVE. Audrey stared at the scanned bank record.
“That’s the exact amount Dustin said Mom stole.” “Yes,” Malik said. “So the money came from Cedar Pike?”
“That appears to be where it originated.” “Why would he bring company money home in cash?” “That,” Paige said, “is a question he may eventually have to answer.” Beatrice sat quietly in the hotel chair.
After a long moment, she said, “He wanted me near that drawer.” Audrey turned. “What do you mean?” “The coffee ring.” Beatrice’s face tightened as she replayed the memory.
“That morning, Dustin carried coffee into the office. He never drinks coffee at the desk. He drinks it in the kitchen because he complains about stains.” Audrey knew that was true. Beatrice continued.
“He left the mug on the desk. When he went out later, I saw the ring. I thought I was helping by cleaning it.” A trap built from habit. Audrey felt a chill.
If Dustin wanted Beatrice to open the drawer, the coffee stain gave her a reason. If he wanted to accuse her afterward, the cash created the crime.
If he wanted the accusation to seem plausible, the camera could show Beatrice at the desk. But why delete the footage? Because the full recording might show more than he intended. Paige leaned forward.
“Did he actually leave the apartment?” Beatrice hesitated. “I heard the front door.” “That’s not what I asked.” Beatrice closed her eyes. “No. I don’t know.” The building’s package room became the next piece.
Dustin had claimed he went downstairs to collect a delivery. Paige asked the apartment manager to preserve lobby and elevator footage pending formal request. The manager’s answer came the next morning.
There had been no package delivery for Dustin that day. His last scanned package had arrived the previous afternoon.
The lobby camera also showed no image of Dustin leaving the apartment floor during the relevant window. Audrey felt anger rise slowly now, less like fire and more like pressure.
“He never went for a package.” “No,” Paige said. “He staged all of it.” “That is what the evidence is beginning to suggest.” Audrey walked to the window.
Outside, San Diego moved beneath a pale blue sky. Delivery vans stopped at curbs. People carried coffee. A woman pushed a stroller through a crosswalk. Normal life felt offensive.
Inside the hotel room, Audrey’s marriage was being dismantled minute by minute. The recovered camera metadata arrived that afternoon.
There was no video yet, but there were event logs. 3:07:41 — Motion detected.
3:08:03 — Live view initiated. 3:08:15 — Recording clip marked. 3:08:59 — Audio event detected.
3:11:22 — Motion detected. 3:15:48 — Motion detected. 3:19:07 — Audio event detected. 3:19:12 — Audio event detected.
3:19:26 — Motion detected. 3:24:10 — Clip deletion requested. The two audio events at 3:19 were seconds apart. Audrey did not need a sound file to imagine them. Two slaps.
Her mother lowered her eyes. Paige spoke carefully. “The provider says a deleted clip may remain in backup for a limited period. They’re preserving it.” Dustin called again. This time, Audrey did not answer.
Then Brenda called. Audrey stared at her mother-in-law’s name. She almost ignored it, but Paige motioned for her to pick up and put the call on speaker. “Audrey?” Brenda’s voice sounded strained.
“What is going on?” “Ask your son.” “He says your mother stole from him and you’re trying to destroy his business.” Audrey closed her eyes. “Did he tell you he hit her twice?” Silence.
“No.” “Did he tell you he drained nearly one hundred seventy thousand dollars from our savings into a company he owns with Wyatt and Tristan?” Another silence. Longer this time. “What company?” Brenda asked.
Audrey looked at Paige. “Cedar Pike Holdings.” Brenda inhaled sharply. The reaction was small, but Audrey heard it. “You know the name,” Audrey said.
“No.” “Brenda.” “I said no.” But fear had entered her voice. Audrey remembered caring for Brenda after knee surgery. Helping her into the shower. Changing dressings.
Cooking soup at two in the morning because pain medication upset her stomach. Now Brenda sounded like someone standing beside a secret. “Please,” Audrey said.
“If you know something, tell me.” Brenda whispered, “Not on the phone.” The call ended. Paige and Audrey stared at each other. Beatrice spoke first.
“She knows.” Two hours later, a hotel employee delivered a padded envelope to Audrey’s room. No return address. Inside was a flash drive. And a folded note written in Brenda’s careful handwriting.
May you like
I should have stopped them months ago. I was afraid of losing my sons. Please forgive me. On the flash drive was a spreadsheet. Dozens of transfers. Family loans. Company debts.
And beside Audrey’s name, one line highlighted in yellow: PRIMARY CREDIT BACKSTOP — SIGNATURE PENDING.
