Chapter 8 - SOMEONE ELSE HAD A KEY
The photograph of us sleeping changed everything.
Until then, the threat had a name.
Carmen.
Now it didn’t.
Detective Bell arrived within thirty minutes.
He placed the photograph inside an evidence sleeve.
“When was this taken?”
I stared at it.
Olivia was lying between Jessica and me.
She only slept in our bed during storms.
“There was a thunderstorm in July.”
Jessica nodded.
“July twenty-second.”
Bell wrote it down.
“Who had access to the apartment?”
“My mother.”
“Anyone else with a key?”
I thought.
Building management.
Jessica’s sister had an emergency key.
Our dog walker from two years ago no longer had one.
A cleaning service had come once before Carmen moved in.
Then Jessica whispered, “Marcy.”
I looked at her.
“What?”
“Carmen gave Marcy a key.”
“When?”
“I don’t know. I saw her let herself in once.”
I felt rage rise.
“She gave someone a key to our apartment?”
Jessica nodded.
“I told her not to.”
“What did she say?”
“That she lived here too.”
There it was again.
The entitlement.
My mother didn’t live with us.
In her mind, she owned us.
Detective Bell contacted Marcy.
She denied taking the photograph.
But admitted having a key.
“Why?” Bell asked on speaker.
“Carmen said if she ever fell because of her knees, she wanted someone nearby to check on her.”
“Did you enter the apartment when the Ferris family was asleep?”
“No.”
“Did you ever enter without their knowledge?”
Long pause.
“Once.”
Jessica closed her eyes.
“When?”
“Carmen asked me to get something while she was at church.”
“What?”
“A folder.”
“From where?”
“Her bedroom.”
Bell asked, “Did you see cameras?”
Marcy hesitated.
“No.”
That hesitation mattered.
“Ms. Collins?”
“I saw one device.”
“What device?”
“It looked like a phone charger.”
My pulse jumped.
“Where?”
“The living room.”
Jessica looked at me.
We had three charger blocks plugged in around the apartment.
Bell told us not to touch anything.
A technical unit later found four hidden cameras.
One inside a USB charging hub facing the living room.
One disguised as a smoke detector in the hallway.
One inside a digital clock in the kitchen.
And one in our bedroom.
Jessica sat on the couch while technicians worked.
She looked numb.
I couldn’t look at the bedroom camera.
I wanted to destroy it.
Instead I watched professionals remove it carefully.
Evidence.
Everything had become evidence.
“Could Carmen watch live?” I asked.
The technician nodded.
“Potentially. Depends on setup.”
“Could someone else?”
“If they had credentials.”
That was the question.
Who had them?
The message on the photographs said someone helped her.
Maybe it was a bluff.
Maybe Carmen sent it before her arrest.
Maybe one of the women from the savings circle wanted to scare us.
Or maybe someone had been inside our home, watching.
Later, Detective Cho called with a development.
They had traced one of the financial accounts to a man named Victor Salas.
The name meant nothing to me.
Jessica frowned.
“I’ve heard it.”
“Where?”
She thought.
“Carmen mentioned a Victor.”
“When?”
“Phone calls.”
“What did she say?”
“She’d go onto the balcony and speak quietly.”
Cho asked Jessica to describe anything she remembered.
“She called him ‘Vic.’ Sometimes she said things like, ‘Zayden is out until Thursday,’ or ‘Jessica’s sister came over.’”
My stomach tightened.
“She was reporting our movements.”
Cho nodded.
“We believe Salas may have helped set up some financial structures.”
“Who is he?”
“Former tax preparer. Lost his license several years ago.”
“Why?”
“Fraud-related misconduct.”
Of course.
“Where is he?”
“We’re looking.”
That afternoon, Bell showed us a photograph.
Victor was fifty-seven.
Balding.
Thin.
Glasses.
I had seen him before.
My blood turned cold.
“He’s been in this apartment.”
Jessica looked at me.
“What?”
“At Christmas.”
I remembered.
My mother introduced him as someone from church.
He stayed twenty minutes.
He asked what I did for work.
Asked whether I traveled often.
I thought he was making conversation.
Now I realized he had been interviewing me.
“Did he use the restroom?” Bell asked.
“Yes.”
“Where is it?”
“Down this hall.”
Past my office.
Past the bedroom.
He could have looked at anything.
That night, Jessica wanted to leave the apartment.
I agreed immediately.
We packed essentials and went to Hannah’s house.
Olivia seemed excited about the “sleepover.”
We didn’t tell her we were afraid someone might still have access to our home.
After Olivia slept, Jessica and I sat in Hannah’s kitchen.
Hannah poured coffee.
“You two need a plan.”
“I know.”
“Not just legal.”
She looked at me.
“Marriage.”
Jessica stared at her.
Hannah shrugged.
“I love both of you, but pretending the only problem is Carmen isn’t going to fix anything.”
I nodded.
“She’s right.”
Jessica looked surprised.
“What?”
“I’ve been thinking about therapy.”
She gave a tired laugh.
“You?”
“Yes.”
“You hate therapy.”
“I hate being wrong more.”
That almost made her smile.
Almost.
“I’ll go alone first if you want.”
Jessica studied me.
“Why alone?”
“Because some of what I need to understand belongs to me.”
“What?”
“Why I spent my entire life letting my mother’s feelings become everyone else’s responsibility.”
Jessica’s expression softened.
Not forgiveness.
But something.
Then Hannah’s doorbell rang.
All three of us froze.
It was nearly eleven.
Hannah checked the camera.
A man stood outside.
Baseball cap.
Dark jacket.
Holding an envelope.
She called police.
The man left before they arrived.
But the doorbell camera caught his vehicle.
A gray sedan.
The envelope contained a single flash drive.
Police took it.
The next morning, Detective Bell called.
“The drive contains videos.”
My stomach tightened.
“From our apartment?”
“Yes.”
Jessica closed her eyes.
“How many?”
“Dozens.”
I swallowed.
“What are they?”
“Mostly domestic activity. Carmen speaking with Jessica. Olivia. Some footage of you.”
“Anything criminal?”
Bell hesitated.
“Yes.”
Jessica gripped my hand.
“What?”
“One video appears to show Carmen deliberately increasing the water heater temperature before yesterday’s gathering.”
I stopped breathing.
The burns weren’t an accident.
Bell continued.
“Another shows her taking mail from a desk and photographing documents.”
“What else?”
“There is footage of Carmen handing Victor Salas a folder.”
“Where?”
“In your kitchen.”
“When?”
“Two months ago.”
“What was inside?”
“We can’t tell.”
Then Bell lowered his voice.
“There’s one more thing.”
I hated that phrase now.
“What?”
“A video from approximately five weeks ago shows Carmen and Salas discussing Jessica.”
Jessica turned pale.
“What did they say?”
Bell paused.
“They discussed a timeline.”
“For what?”
May you like
His answer changed the temperature in the room.
“For getting her out of the apartment before you returned from a business trip.”
