Chapter 2 - The Severed Link
The underground garage smelled of wet asphalt, cheap gasoline, and the sharp, coppery tang of fresh blood.
Stefan lay sprawled face-down between a vintage Aston Martin and an armored SUV. A single, surgical bullet hole marked the back of his skull. No drag marks. No sign of a struggle. Whoever had pulled the trigger was someone Stefan knew well enough to let walk behind him without turning around.
Alessio stood over the body, his jaw set in a line so hard it looked carved from granite. Rain seeped through the open garage bay doors, misting over the concrete floor.
"The hard drive?" Alessio asked, his voice deathly quiet.
Dominic pointed toward the open rack in the corner server closet. The primary drive bay was an empty, torn socket with severed wires hanging out like black veins. "Ripped right out. They knew exactly which array held the nursery wing. They didn't even bother wiping it; they just took the physical hardware."
I stood a few feet back, holding my hands shoved deep into the pockets of my medical cardigan. My mind was racing, connecting the dots faster than the men around me.
"They panicked," I said softly.
Alessio turned his dark eyes to me. "What?"
"The killer didn't intend to shoot Stefan tonight," I explained, stepping closer to the server rack, taking care not to touch anything. "The plan was simple: put the bead in Leo’s throat, let him suffocate quietly while I was away from the crib, and let everyone assume it was a tragic crib death or an accidental choking on a toy. But I caught it instantly. I saved the baby, I found the tool marks on the bead, and you locked the room down. Suddenly, there was evidence. The killer knew you asked Stefan for the footage, so they eliminated Stefan before he could hand it over—or before he could speak."
"Which means Stefan was either the accomplice who turned off the camera, or he knew who did," Alessio said. He turned to Dominic. "Check his pockets."
Dominic knelt down, pulled a thick leather wallet from Stefan’s jacket, and flipped it open. A set of heavy brass keys fell out, along with a roll of hundred-dollar bills. But what caught my eye was a small, torn piece of high-grade cardstock sticking out from behind his driver's license.
"Give me that," Alessio growled, taking the paper.
It was a slip from an offshore casino in Nassau, stamped with a timestamp from three days ago and a outstanding debt receipt for $450,000.
"He was broke," Alessio murmured. "Someone paid his debts to buy his silence."
"Alessio," I said, catching his arm. "They think they got away with it because they took the main server drive. But they don't know about the nanny monitor."
Alessio frowned. "You said the nursery camera was tampered with."
"The house camera was," I replied, a small, cold smile touching my lips. "The one mounted above the door that connects to your security system. But three days after I was hired, I noticed a blind spot near the changing table. I placed my own secondary baby monitor inside the speaker mesh of the digital clock on the bookshelf. It records locally to a hidden micro-SD card. It operates on an independent battery back-up."
Alessio’s eyes ignited with a terrifying light. "It recorded the room?"
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"If the battery held through the night, yes," I said. "And the killer has no idea it exists."
"Dominic," Alessio commanded, his hand dropping to his weapon. "Leave Stefan’s body here. Seal the garage. We go back up to the nursery. Now."
