Chapter 11 - Forty-Seven Seconds Missing
Daniel did not forget Colin.
He forgot the version of himself who had tried to help him.
That was different.
And somehow worse.
We sat in Rebecca’s cabin while rain ticked against the metal roof.
Rebecca kept the kitchen knife on the table.
Not pointed at anyone.
Just present.
I respected the honesty of that.
Daniel held the photograph in both hands.
“I met Colin through Owen,” he said.
Rebecca stared at him.
“You met Colin through me.”
Daniel looked up.
She laughed bitterly.
“You don’t remember me either?”
His face tightened.
“I remember you. Campaign fundraiser. Hartwell’s first run.”
“You asked me about donor reports.”
Memory moved behind his eyes.
Rebecca continued.
“You suspected Vanessa was using foundation events to move political money. You asked me whether Hartwell’s campaign books matched the public donor lists.”
Daniel sat back.
“I thought it was a compliance issue.”
“And Colin offered to help.”
“He had access to marina vendors who worked foundation events.”
“So you invited him on the yacht.”
Daniel closed his eyes.
“Yes.”
I looked at him.
“You used the trip to investigate Vanessa.”
“I wanted Colin near Adrian and the crew. I thought somebody might talk when they were drinking.”
“Did Vanessa know?”
“No.”
Rebecca slammed her palm on the table.
“Stop saying no like it absolves you.”
Daniel flinched.
She leaned toward him.
“You put my brother on a boat with people you suspected of corruption and never told him how dangerous they were.”
“I didn’t know it was dangerous.”
“That is the kind of sentence rich men use when somebody else dies.”
The room went silent.
Daniel nodded slowly.
“You’re right.”
Rebecca looked almost disappointed.
Anger prefers resistance.
Agreement gives it nowhere to land.
I understood that too well.
Torres asked, “What evidence did Colin have?”
Rebecca took out an old external hard drive.
“Copies of campaign spreadsheets. Foundation auction data. Vendor invoices. Most of it became useless after his laptop disappeared.”
“Who took it?”
“I assumed police.”
Torres frowned.
“It’s not in the property log.”
Rebecca looked at her.
“Then someone stole it.”
Daniel stared at the drive.
“Can we compare it to the auction ledger?”
Torres said, “We can. Legally, if Rebecca consents.”
Rebecca pushed it toward her.
“I consent to you copying it. Not keeping the original.”
“Fair.”
My phone buzzed.
A text from Ethan.
I opened it carefully this time.
I’M OKAY.
Then:
CLAIRE IS WITH ME.
I exhaled so hard Rebecca looked over.
I typed: Are you both safe right now?
YES.
Can you call?
NO.
I did not push.
I showed Torres.
She nodded approval.
That tiny nod felt embarrassingly good.
Then Ethan sent another message.
THE VIDEO ISN’T 47 SECONDS.
My chest tightened.
What do you mean?
THERE ARE 47 SECONDS MISSING.
I looked at Adrian’s old clue in my memory.
47.
We had assumed it meant the length of recovered footage.
Wrong.
I typed: How long is the full video?
2 MINUTES 11.
Torres leaned over my shoulder.
“Ask what’s missing.”
I did.
Ethan replied:
CLAIRE SAYS THE MIDDLE WAS CUT OUT YEARS AGO.
Then a file arrived.
Video.
Two minutes eleven seconds.
Torres took the phone before I could play it.
“We copy it first.”
I waited while she sent it to a secure evidence account.
Then we watched.
The angle was fixed from the yacht’s stern.
Timestamp 12:40:52.
Rain spotted the lens.
Colin staggered into frame backward.
Owen followed.
Even without sound, the argument was obvious.
Owen shoved Colin once.
Colin swung back.
Owen shoved harder.
Colin went over the rail.
The next seconds were sickeningly ordinary.
Owen froze.
He looked down.
Vanessa rushed into frame.
Daniel appeared behind her.
Adrian came from the opposite side.
They all looked over the stern.
Colin’s hand appeared on the lower platform railing.
Alive.
Holding on.
Vanessa turned toward the others.
The video had no audio.
She pointed toward Owen.
Then toward the cabin.
Owen shook his head violently.
Daniel grabbed Owen and pulled him away.
Adrian stayed at the rail.
Timestamp 12:41:21.
Then the image jumped.
12:42:08.
Forty-seven seconds missing.
When the video resumed, Vanessa stood alone at the stern.
Adrian ran back into frame.
He looked down.
Then climbed onto the lower ladder.
Daniel returned seconds later.
He looked over the rail.
The footage ended at 12:43:03.
No Colin.
No rescue.
No explanation for forty-seven seconds.
Rebecca covered her mouth.
Daniel stared at the screen as if it were a grave opening.
“I pulled Owen inside,” he whispered.
Rebecca looked at him with hatred.
“You left Colin hanging there.”
“I thought Adrian was helping him.”
“You thought.”
“Yes.”
“Always that.”
Daniel did not defend himself.
Torres replayed the jump.
“Forty-seven seconds were removed before this maintenance backup was saved.”
“Can they be recovered?” I asked.
“Maybe from metadata. Maybe not.”
Rebecca stood and walked to the window.
“What happened during those seconds?”
No one answered.
Ethan texted again.
CLAIRE SAYS SHE KNOWS.
I typed: Then tell us.
Three dots appeared.
Stopped.
Appeared again.
Finally:
SHE WON’T TEXT IT.
Why?
BECAUSE SHE SAYS SOMEBODY WILL THINK SHE’S LYING.
I looked at Torres.
“Ask for a meeting,” she said.
I typed carefully.
You choose the place. No Daniel. No Vanessa. Torres can come unarmed and in plain clothes. Or only me if Claire refuses police.
Daniel looked at me.
I did not apologize for excluding him.
He did not ask me to.
Ethan replied after two minutes.
OLD AQUARIUM. 6 PM.
Then another message.
NO CHIEF RHODES.
Torres frowned.
“Why name Rhodes?”
My skin prickled.
I typed: Why not Rhodes?
The answer came from Claire, not Ethan.
Because the person who leaked the evidence request works in his office.
A second message followed.
And because I saw that person in Room 814 eight years ago.
Torres and I looked at each other.
Daniel whispered, “Who?”
The third message arrived.
CLAIRE: ASK RHODES WHERE HIS DEPUTY CHIEF WAS THE NIGHT COLIN DIED.
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(To be continued)
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