Chapter 2 - The Missing Seven Minutes
Northwestern Memorial Hospital smelled like disinfectant, coffee, and fear.
I sat beside Sophie’s bed while a nurse checked her vitals again.
She looked painfully small beneath the hospital blanket.
Her flower-girl dress had been placed in a plastic evidence bag.
Her hair had been cleaned.
A bandage covered the injury near her temple.
The doctor had already explained that she needed observation.
So far, there were no signs of a severe internal injury.
Those words should have comforted me.
They did not.
Because every time Sophie closed her eyes, I remembered Preston’s face.
The smile before everything happened.
The certainty.
He had planned the accusation.
That meant he had planned more than I understood.
Sophie opened her eyes.
“Mom?”
“I’m here.”
She reached for my hand.
I gave it to her.
“Am I in trouble?”
The question almost destroyed me.
“No.”
I leaned closer.
“You did nothing wrong.”
“Grandma said—”
“I don’t care what Grandma said.”
The words came out sharper than I intended.
Sophie blinked.
I softened my voice.
“She was wrong.”
“You didn’t steal anything.”
“You don’t ever have to prove that to me.”
Sophie stared at me for several seconds.
Then she whispered,
“Uncle Preston put something in my coat.”
My entire body went still.
“What?”
She looked toward the door.
“He came behind my chair.”
“When?”
“Before dessert.”
“What did he do?”
“I thought he was fixing my jacket.”
She swallowed.
“He said I looked pretty.”
My pulse began pounding.
“What happened next?”
“He touched the pocket.”
“Then he told me not to tell you because it was a surprise.”
I closed my eyes.
There it was.
Not proof.
But close enough to make my stomach turn.
“Did you see what he put inside?”
She shook her head.
“No.”
“But it felt heavy afterward.”
I pressed her hand against my cheek.
“You did exactly the right thing telling me.”
A knock came at the door.
Detective Lena Ortiz entered.
She was in her early forties, dressed in a dark coat with tired eyes that missed nothing.
We had met briefly downstairs.
She closed the door behind her.
“How is she?”
“Stable.”
“Good.”
She looked at Sophie.
“Hi, Sophie.”
Sophie gave a small wave.
“I’m Detective Ortiz.”
“I’m going to ask your mom some questions.”
“You don’t have to answer anything right now.”
Sophie nodded.
Ortiz turned to me.
“We have an issue with the footage.”
I felt my stomach drop.
“What happened?”
“The hotel preserved most of it.”
“Most?”
She pulled a chair closer.
“There are seven minutes missing from one camera.”
I stared at her.
“Which camera?”
“The ballroom entrance.”
The exact camera I had seen.
The camera Preston had seen.
“What seven minutes?”
Ortiz opened a notebook.
“8:41 p.m. to 8:48 p.m.”
My mind raced.
Dessert had been served around 8:40.
Preston announced his phone was missing shortly afterward.
Sophie had just told me he approached her jacket before dessert ended.
“That’s when he planted it.”
Ortiz’s expression did not change.
“Possibly.”
“Not possibly.”
I leaned forward.
“My daughter just told me he touched her jacket.”
Ortiz looked toward Sophie.
Then back to me.
“Did she tell you that before I arrived?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
“I’ll arrange a formal child interview with a specialist.”
I nodded.
“But the footage?”
“The entrance camera is missing those seven minutes.”
“Someone deleted them?”
“We don’t know yet.”
“Can hotel employees do that?”
“Some can.”
“Can Preston?”
“Not directly.”
The word directly mattered.
I heard it.
“So someone helped him.”
Ortiz closed her notebook.
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t need to.”
A silence stretched between us.
Then she asked,
“Do you know a man named Daniel Cross?”
The name meant nothing.
“No.”
“He’s the hotel’s assistant security director.”
“Should I?”
“He left work twenty minutes after the incident.”
“Without speaking to police.”
My skin prickled.
“Why?”
“We’re trying to find out.”
Ortiz stood.
“There’s more.”
Of course there was.
“What?”
“Preston’s phone was examined.”
“And?”
“The device was unlocked.”
I frowned.
“So?”
“He told officers it contained sensitive banking information.”
“Yes.”
“But the banking apps had already been logged out.”
I stared at her.
“The business files he claimed were stored locally weren’t there.”
“Neither were his honeymoon documents.”
I understood slowly.
“He lied about what was on the phone.”
“Looks that way.”
“Why?”
“That’s what I’m trying to determine.”
Ortiz reached for the door.
Before opening it, she looked back at me.
“Ms. Bennett.”
“One more thing.”
“Yes?”
“Your brother gave us a statement.”
My jaw tightened.
“What did he say?”
“He says you attacked him first.”
I almost laughed.
Then I saw that she was serious.
“He says you shoved him into the wedding display.”
“That he picked up the board because he thought you were going to hit him.”
I stared at her.
“That’s insane.”
“Two guests have already repeated the same version.”
My mouth went dry.
“Which guests?”
“I can’t disclose that yet.”
But I already knew.
Family.
Someone loyal to Preston.
Someone who had decided the truth could be rewritten before the blood had even dried.
Ortiz opened the door.
Then Sophie spoke.
“Detective?”
Ortiz stopped.
“Yes?”
Sophie’s voice was small.
“There was another camera.”
I turned toward her.
“What?”
Sophie pointed weakly toward the ceiling.
“Near the cake.”
“I saw myself on a TV screen.”
Ortiz’s eyes sharpened.
“What TV screen?”
“The little room behind the curtain.”
“Uncle Preston took me there earlier.”
A strange chill moved through me.
“When?”
I asked.
Sophie looked at me.
“Before everyone came in.”
Detective Ortiz stepped back into the room.
“Why did he take you there?”
Sophie looked confused.
“He said he wanted to show me something funny.”
“What did he show you?”
“A bunch of camera pictures.”
Ortiz and I exchanged a look.
May you like
Then Sophie said the sentence that changed the entire investigation.
“One of them could see my chair.”
