Chapter 2 - The Red Eye on the Wall
Back inside the nursery, the soft glow of the moon spilled across the ivory rug and the hand-carved mahogany crib.
I did not place Willa down; I sat with her in the rocking chair, keeping her warm under my cashmere shawl.
High on the northern molding, right above the white crown trim, the baby monitor's red indicator light blinked twice.
It wasn't a standard manufacturer heartbeat pulse.
It was a manual zoom command.
Someone on the other end of the application had just activated the high-resolution optical lens, zooming past the crib slats to focus on the corner of the room.
My heart hammered against my ribs, but my hands remained steady as rock.
I followed the camera’s mechanical angle.
The lens wasn't pointing at Willa’s sleeping mat, nor was it pointing at the changing station where baby supplies were kept.
It was aimed directly at the antique rosewood armoire that had belonged to my late mother.
Specifically, it was focused on the brass lock of the lower hidden drawer where my father’s personal safe was recessed into the wall.
A cold shudder traveled down my spine, lifting the fine hairs on my arms.
Sienna Rowe had never cared about my nursing schedule, nor was she getting a perverse thrill from watching my private recovery.
She was timing my movements.
She was tracking the hours I spent in the room, counting the minutes between feedings, and studying the access codes I punched into the wall panel when I retrieved my medication.
I stood up slowly, keeping Willa tucked under my arm, and walked toward the small side table where my daughter's sound machine was humming with white noise.
I picked up an embroidered burp cloth from the shelf.
With a single, deliberate movement, I tossed the cloth directly over the camera lens, plunging the remote feed into total blackness.
Ten seconds later, my personal phone vibrated on the side table.
It was an automated security alert from the home automation network: Viewer Sienna Rowe has requested camera diagnostic reconnection.
I took a slow, deep breath, letting the sweet scent of baby powder and fresh milk steady my nerves.
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"You're watching the wrong room, Sienna," I whispered into the quiet dark.
"And you have no idea what my father left behind."
