The Bathroom Phone

The plan was bold. It was dangerous. It was exactly the kind of forensic deconstruction Elena specialized in, but instead of a spreadsheet, she was using a mansion.

But first, she needed the burner phone. The one she had dropped when Thorne tackled her on the roof.

Elena froze, her hand patting her chest, then her pockets. The waterproof bag was gone.

"What?" Liam asked, seeing her expression.

"The phone," Elena whispered. "It's not here."

She replayed the struggle on the slate roof. Thorne’s weight slamming into her. The slide down the tiles. The scramble for the trellis.

"I dropped it," she said, her voice tight. "It must have fallen when I went over the edge."

"If the police find it..."

"They'll have the bank transfer records," Elena said. "They'll see the five million. They'll trace it to me."

"And they'll have the 'Nursery' database," Liam added. "Which makes you look like the architect of the fraud, not the whistleblower."

"I have to go back," Elena said.

"You can't go back," Liam said, grabbing her arm as she tried to stand. "The place is swarming with SWAT. They have a shoot-to-kill order, Elena."

"The phone isn't in the yard," Elena said, her mind working through the geometry of the fall. "I fell near the chimney stack. The phone was in my bra. If it fell out..."

She closed her eyes, visualizing the roofline. The chimney was directly above the guest bathroom vent. The same vent she and Maya had opened to loop the camera feed.

"It fell into the vent," Elena said. "It's in the ductwork. Or it fell through into the bathroom."

"That's inside the house," Liam said. "That's worse."

"It's the guest bathroom," Elena said. "The one room without cameras. The one room they might not have cleared yet because it locks from the inside."

"It's suicide."

"It's the only way to get the admin codes back," Elena said. "Without that phone, I can't access the smart home system. I can't run the projector. I can't expose them."

Liam looked at her. He saw the bruise on her face, the bandage on her ribs, the fire in her eyes. He saw Isabel.

He sighed, reaching into a duffel bag under the cot. He pulled out a set of blueprints and a heavy, rubber-handled bolt cutter.

"The guest bathroom shares a ventilation shaft with the laundry room," he said, spreading the blue paper on the table. "Here."

He traced a line.

"The laundry chute."

"It's too small," Elena said.

"Not for a person," Liam said. "But the chute connects to the main vertical shaft. If you can get into the laundry room from the service entrance, you can climb the maintenance ladder inside the shaft. It opens out behind the vanity in the guest bath."

"The service entrance?"

"The one Leo uses," Liam said. "The police are focused on the front and the roof. They won't be watching the garbage collection point."

He looked at Maya, who had fallen asleep on the cot, curled into a tight, defensive ball.

"I'll stay with her," Liam said. "You have one hour. If you're not back, I'm coming in. And I'm not bringing a laptop. I'm bringing a shotgun."

Elena nodded. She took the bolt cutters.

"One hour."

The drive back to the estate was silent. Liam dropped her off a mile out, deep in the marsh. Elena moved through the pluff mud, the smell of decay filling her nose.

She reached the service wall. The police lights were a distant, throbbing glow on the other side of the property. She cut the padlock on the side gate and slipped inside.

The laundry room door was unlocked. Careless. Or maybe just arrogant.

She stepped inside. The room was dark, smelling of bleach and lavender. She found the access panel behind the industrial dryers. She unscrewed it with a dime from her pocket.

The shaft was tight, dark, and hot. She climbed the ladder, the rungs slick with condensation. Her ribs screamed with every movement, a jagged line of fire up her side.

*Don't stop. Don't think.*

She reached the second-floor vent. She pushed against the grate. It gave way.

She crawled out, landing on the cold tile of the guest bathroom floor.

The room was dark. The shower curtain was still pulled shut from when she had run the water earlier.

She scanned the floor.

There, wedged between the toilet and the wall, was the waterproof bag.

She grabbed it. She opened it. The phone was there. The screen was cracked, but it powered on.

*Battery: 12%*

Enough.

She unlocked it. The admin session was still active.

She had the house.

But before she could move, she heard a sound.

The doorknob turned.

"It's locked," a voice said. A man's voice. A cop.

"Kick it," another voice said. "The suspect could be hiding in there."

Elena scrambled backward. There was nowhere to go. The vent was too high to reach without a boost. The window was painted shut.

She pulled the shower curtain open and stepped into the tub, pulling the plastic liner closed behind her.

*Crash.*

The door splintered open.

"Clear left!"

"Clear right!"

Heavy boots on the tile. The beam of a flashlight swept across the shower curtain, illuminating the plastic.

Elena held her breath. She held the phone to her chest.

"Bathroom clear," the cop said.

"Check the tub," the other one said.

A hand grabbed the curtain.