I felt a cold sweat break out on my forehead. If I left this penthouse in handcuffs, Evelyn won. She would have complete access to Chloe again. Marcus was smart, he clearly doubted her, but Evelyn had planted physical evidence. She was framing me.
And she had scratched Chloe’s face. She had physically harmed a four-year-old just to make the struggle look worse for me.
I needed proof. Real proof. The envelope wasn’t enough if she tied it to the phone in my bag.
Then, an old memory hit me like a lightning bolt.
It was three years ago, shortly before Marcus’s first wife, Sarah, had died in a tragic car accident. I had been a junior nurse at the pediatric clinic they visited. Sarah had been incredibly kind to me. Before she passed, she had hired me as a part-time babysitter, a role that turned into a full-time nanny position after her death.
One afternoon, Sarah had been paranoid about the cleaning staff. She had showed me a tiny, custom-built pinhole camera she had hidden in the baseboard of the nursery, right behind the antique wooden rocking horse. It didn't connect to the penthouse Wi-Fi—it recorded straight to an internal micro-SD card, completely undetectable by any network scanner.
When Evelyn moved in, she had completely redecorated the penthouse. But Marcus had forbidden her from changing a single thing in Chloe’s nursery. The baseboard camera had to still be there.
“Tom,” I said, standing up so fast the room spun. “Where did the attack happen? I mean, where did she hurt Chloe before I ran in and grabbed her?”
“Mrs. Sterling says you shoved Chloe in the living room,” Tom said, frowning.
“No. Evelyn scratched Chloe in the nursery. Chloe spilled juice on Evelyn’s white jumpsuit. Evelyn backhanded her, her nails caught Chloe’s cheek, and then I grabbed Chloe and ran into the living room, heading for the front door. That’s when Evelyn grabbed the golf club from the hallway display and cornered us.”
Tom stared at me. “Can you prove that?”
“Yes,” I breathed. “But I need to get into the nursery. There’s a standalone camera hidden in the baseboard. Sarah installed it years ago. Evelyn doesn’t know it exists.”
Tom’s eyes widened slightly. He checked his watch, then keyed his radio.
“Officer Davis, this is Sterling Security,” Tom said smoothly into his shoulder mic. “The nanny needs to use the restroom. I’m going to escort her down the hall.”
“Copy that,” the radio cracked back.
Tom looked at me. “We have exactly three minutes before someone comes looking for you. Go.”
He opened the door and checked the hallway. It was clear. The police and Marcus were in the main dining room, out of sight. I slipped out of the study, holding my injured arm against my chest, and hurried down the long carpeted hall to the nursery.
I pushed the door open. The room was dark, the heavy curtains drawn.
I dropped to my knees, ignoring the sharp pain radiating from my collarbone. I crawled behind the large wooden rocking horse. I ran my fingers along the seam of the custom molding, feeling for the tiny groove Sarah had shown me years ago.
There.
I pressed my thumbnail into the groove and popped off a small, two-inch strip of wood. Behind it sat a black, cube-shaped device the size of a matchbox.
My heart hammered against my ribs as I popped the micro-SD card out. I reached into my pocket, pulled out my own cell phone, and slotted the card into my phone’s reader tray.