Chapter 5 - THE CAMERA THAT SHOULD NOT EXISTSeattle police had originally classified the crash as weather-related.
The SUV driver claimed he lost control on wet pavement.
No alcohol.
No drugs.
No obvious mechanical defect.
Case closed.
Except Rachel did not believe in coincidences.
Neither did Noah anymore.
They requested the collision report.
The driver was listed as Derek Shaw, forty-two, an employee of a private security contractor.
His employer had provided services to Vance Harbor Medical Center.
My stomach tightened.
“Did Luca know him?”
“We don’t know.”
Rachel continued.
“The SUV was owned by a hospital holding company but assigned to security operations.”
“That could still be coincidence.”
“Yes.”
She looked directly at me.
“But there’s more.”
Traffic cameras had captured the intersection twelve seconds before impact.
Derek’s SUV had been stopped along a side street.
He was not traveling normally through the intersection.
He waited.
Then my car appeared.
Only then did he accelerate.
I felt cold.
“Can we see it?”
Rachel hesitated.
“I have a copy.”
She opened her laptop.
The footage was grainy.
Rain covered the lens.
My silver sedan entered the frame.
A dark SUV sat motionless near the curb.
Then it moved.
Fast.
Too fast.
Straight toward me.
I watched the impact.
My own accident.
My own car spinning across wet asphalt.
For a moment, I could smell the deployed airbag again.
Taste blood.
Hear glass exploding.
Noah closed the laptop.
“That’s enough.”
“No.”
I opened it again.
“Play it.”
We watched twice more.
On the third viewing, I noticed something.
“Stop.”
Rachel froze the image.
“Back three seconds.”
She reversed.
The SUV remained parked.
A second vehicle appeared behind it.
Black sedan.
Its headlights flashed twice.
Then Derek accelerated.
Nobody spoke.
“License plate?” Noah asked.
“Unreadable.”
Rachel enlarged the frame.
The image pixelated.
But there was something visible through the windshield.
A parking permit.
Blue and silver.
Vance Harbor Medical Center.
My heartbeat climbed.
Then Rachel received a call.
She answered.
Listened.
Her expression changed.
“Send it immediately.”
She hung up.
“What?”
“The building across from the intersection has private security cameras.”
My fingers tightened around the blanket.
“They recorded the crash?”
“Possibly more.”
Twenty minutes later, the file arrived.
This footage was clearer.
The black sedan pulled beside Derek’s SUV approximately six minutes before my arrival.
Someone stepped out.
Tall.
Male.
Dark coat.
He approached Derek’s window.
They spoke.
Then the man returned to the sedan.
His face never turned toward the camera.
But I recognized the way he walked.
“No.”
Noah looked at me.
“What?”
“No.”
“Jessi?”
I pointed at the screen.
“I know him.”
Rachel froze the frame.
The man wore a dark overcoat and surgical shoes.
My husband owned the same coat.
Thousands of men probably did.
But the watch visible beneath his sleeve was harder to dismiss.
A silver chronograph with a blue dial.
I had given Luca that watch on our fifth anniversary.
Noah whispered, “Jesus.”
I felt as if I were falling through the hospital bed.
“That can’t be him.”
Nobody answered.
“It can’t.”
Because cheating was one thing.
Medical misconduct was another.
But arranging a collision?
That belonged to another universe.
Rachel zoomed in.
“We don’t assume anything yet.”
Then another detail appeared.
Timestamp.
9:08 p.m.
My accident happened at 10:16.
I remembered Luca’s story.
He told police he had been performing surgery until 9:45.
If this man was Luca, his alibi was false.
A knock came at the door.
Hospital security.
Two officers entered.
“Mrs. Vance, we need to speak with your attorney.”
Rachel stood.
“Regarding?”
“There has been unauthorized access to hospital systems.”
“And?”
“One of the access points was traced to this room.”
Noah laughed bitterly.
“You’re accusing the woman who nearly died?”
“We’re investigating.”
Rachel closed her laptop.
“You can investigate outside.”
The officer hesitated.
Then his radio crackled.
A voice came through.
“Code Gray, executive floor.”
Another voice followed.
“Dr. Vance is requesting security immediately.”
Everyone froze.
The officer touched his earpiece.
“What happened?”
Static.
Then:
“Patient Mariana Cole is missing.”
My blood went cold.
Missing?
Rachel and I exchanged a look.
Minutes later, chaos erupted across the hospital.
Elevators locked.
Security officers flooded the hallways.
Mariana’s VIP room had been found empty.
Her IV lay on the floor.
Blood stained the sheets.
May you like
And written across the bathroom mirror in red lipstick were six words:
LUCA KNOWS WHAT HAPPENED TO JESSI.
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