Chapter 9 - The Encryption

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I bolted from the house, the sound of Daniel’s recorded voice chasing me down the driveway.

When I showed Detective Vance the hard drive at the precinct, his eyes widened. "If he knew you were taking this, it means he still has active surveillance inside the house that our sweeps missed."

"He doesn't care about the cameras," I said, sliding the heavy black drive across the metal table. "He cares about what's on this. He was arrogant enough to think I wouldn't figure out the passcode."

"Do you know it?"

"Daniel’s a narcissist," I said dryly. "He thinks he's a god. The password is his own date of birth, backwards, followed by his mother's maiden name."

The precinct's cyber technician plugged the drive into a secure, offline terminal. We held our breath as he typed in the passcode I provided. The screen buffered for a agonizing three seconds before flashing green.

Access Granted.

Rows and rows of neatly organized folders populated the screen. They weren't just architectural plans. There were financial records, illegal wire transfers, and offshore accounts tied directly to his firm.

But one folder at the bottom caught my eye. It was simply labeled: The Utility Room.

My stomach dropped into a bottomless abyss. "Click it," I whispered.

The tech clicked the folder. Inside was a single video file, dated the night I lost my baby.

"Turn the sound off," Vance ordered the tech quickly, stepping between me and the screen. "Rachel, you don't need to see this."

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"He filmed it," I choked out, a wave of intense nausea hitting me. "He actually set up a camera and filmed it."

"He just handed us the nail for his own coffin," Vance said, his voice laced with pure, lethal determination. "His lawyers can't spin a video."