The Hidden Camera

The police station was a fortress of brick and fluorescent light, a stark contrast to the storm raging outside. I gave my statement. I showed them the bank transfer records. I played the part of the terrified mother.

But I didn't tell them everything.

I didn't tell them about the virus. I didn't tell them about the ledger in the quarry.

And I didn't tell them about the nanny cams.

Arthur thought he had won. He thought he had bought his freedom and secured his legacy. But he didn't know that his son was still in the house.

Or that I had eyes on him.

I sat in the waiting room, wrapped in a scratchy wool blanket, Leo and Sophie asleep on either side of me. I pulled out my laptop—the real one, which I had retrieved from the study before we fled. I connected to the secure cloud server where the nanny cams uploaded their footage.

*Camera 1: Living Room.*
Empty. The furniture was overturned, the rug stained with blood where Julian had fallen.

*Camera 2: Kitchen.*
Empty. The coffee pot was still on the counter.

*Camera 3: Master Bedroom.*
Empty.

I switched to the hidden cameras. The ones Arthur didn't know about. The ones I had installed years ago, when I first started suspecting something was wrong.

*Camera 4: The Study.*

There.

Arthur was sitting at Julian's desk. He was still wearing his wet clothes, his face pale and drawn. He had a glass of scotch in one hand and the hard drive I had given him in the other.

He plugged it in.

I held my breath.

On the screen, Arthur’s face was illuminated by the blue glow of the monitor. He typed something. Frowned. Typed again.

Then he slammed his fist on the desk.

The virus was working. It was locking him out. It was encrypting every file, every email, every contact on his network.

He picked up his phone. He dialed.

"It's not working," he shouted. "The key is wrong. She gave me the wrong drive."

He listened. His face went from angry to terrified.

"What do you mean 'system failure'? Fix it!"

He threw the phone against the wall. It shattered.

He put his head in his hands.

And then he started to talk.

Not to someone on the phone. To himself.

"I did everything right," he muttered. "I protected them. I built this family from nothing."

He looked up at the ceiling.

"I didn't want to kill him," he said. "He was my son. My firstborn."

My heart stopped.

*My firstborn.*

He wasn't talking about Julian. He was talking about Arthur Jr.

"But he was weak," Arthur said. "Like Margaret. He would have ruined us."

He reached into his pocket. He pulled out a small, silver object.

The locket.

He opened it. He looked at the photo.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

And then he said something else. Something that made the blood freeze in my veins.

"But I couldn't let them find the others."

*The others.*

Plural.

I zoomed in on the screen. The audio was faint, distorted by the storm outside.

"Void A," Arthur whispered. "Void B. Void C."

He laughed. A dry, broken sound.

"A whole family," he said. "Buried in the concrete."

He closed the locket.

"And now Julian," he said. "My masterpiece. My disappointment."

He reached for the scotch. He drained the glass.

"They'll never find them," he said. "The tower is solid. It will stand for a hundred years."

He stood up. He walked to the window.

"And I will stand with it."

He didn't see the camera. He didn't know I was watching. He didn't know he had just confessed to a massacre.

I saved the clip. I backed it up to three different servers.

Then I closed the laptop.

I looked at Leo and Sophie. They were safe. For now.

But Arthur was still out there. And he wasn't just a murderer. He was a serial killer.

And he was still in my house.