“You have to save my son,” Elias pleaded, pressing his chained hands against the glass. “Please.”
“I need undeniable proof,” I said. “The gate logs prove he parked the car, but his lawyers will say he just forgot the baby in a moment of panic. I need to prove intent.”
“The plaza,” Elias said quickly. “Your security cameras. The VIP sector has 4K cameras on the light poles. You can see everything.”
My stomach tightened. “Thorne locked down the executive server room. He’ll delete the raw video files by morning.”
“Then you have to get them tonight.”
I hung up the phone. I knew exactly what crossing Richard Vance meant. It meant throwing away my quiet life. It meant putting a target on my own back. But as I walked out of the prison, I thought about the ghost of that kid I failed to save twenty years ago. I pulled my phone out and texted my daughter: Maya. Pack a bag and go to Aunt Sarah’s out of state. Right now. I love you.
At 11:30 PM, I parked my truck three blocks away from the Oakridge Galleria. The massive luxury mall was dark, a sprawling tomb of glass and steel.
I slipped through a service tunnel I knew wasn't covered by motion sensors. The air inside the empty concourse was heavily air-conditioned, a stark contrast to the boiling night outside. My footsteps were silent on the marble floors. I navigated by the glow of the storefront emergency lights, making my way toward the administrative wing.
Thorne had replaced my regular night crew with his own private contractors. I saw two of them patrolling the second-floor atrium, armed with heavy tactical flashlights. I waited in the shadows of a mannequin display until they passed, then took the maintenance stairwell to the fourth floor.
The executive server room was locked with a heavy biometric deadbolt. But as head of security, I had installed a manual emergency override in the ceiling access panel in case of fire. I climbed a nearby display pillar, pushed up a ceiling tile, and shimmied across the aluminum framework until I reached the wiring harness above the door. I shorted the override. The heavy door clicked and swung open.
I dropped into the freezing, humming server room. The blue lights of the server racks blinked in the dark. I booted up the master terminal, inserted my flash drive, and pulled up the archive for the VIP parking sector at 1:18 PM.
The video loaded in crystal-clear 4K.
I watched the black SUV pull into the sun-baked spot. The driver’s door opened. Richard Vance stepped out. He didn't look distracted. He looked completely calm. He walked to the rear passenger door, opened it, and leaned in. He stared at the baby for a long, deliberate ten seconds.
Then, Vance smiled. A cold, calculated smile. He reached in, rolled up the windows from the master switch, slammed the door shut, and pressed the lock button on his fob. He walked away without looking back.
It was first-degree, premeditated attempted murder, captured in high definition.
I hit the download button. The progress bar crawled. 40%... 60%... 80%...
Suddenly, the biometric deadbolt on the door behind me slammed shut with a heavy mechanical clank.