Chapter 2: The Footage at 2:13
I read the message three times before I trusted myself to breathe.
*Daniel, if you want to know why your wife was in your mother’s room, check the hospital security footage from 2:13 a.m.*
I looked up at Mercy Hill.
The emergency entrance glowed under harsh white lights. Cars rolled past the glass doors. Nurses moved behind the reception desk like nothing in the world had changed.
But everything had changed.
Someone had watched my wife.
Someone had watched my mother.
And someone had known enough to tell me exactly when to look.
My phone buzzed again.
This time, it was Marissa calling.
I stared at her name.
Then I answered.
“Where are you?”” she asked.
“At the hospital.””
“I know you’re at the hospital.””
Her voice was strangely calm.
That frightened me more than shouting would have.
“How do you know?””
A pause.
“I called Mercy Hill.””
I frowned.
“What for?””
“To make sure your mother was okay.””
“You already knew she was okay when you left.””
Another pause.
“Daniel, you’re upset.””
“I saw you holding a pillow over her face.””
“I told you, she was choking.””
“Then why were you angry when I walked in?””
Silence.
I could hear traffic in the background on her end.
Finally, she said, “Because I knew this would happen.””
“What would happen?””
“You turning this into something it wasn’t.””
My grip tightened around the phone.
“Marissa, what happened at 2:13 this morning?””
The silence that followed felt different.
Not confusion.
Recognition.
She knew that time.
“Why are you asking me that?””
“Answer me.””
“I don't know what you’re talking about.””
“You know exactly what I’m talking about.””
She sighed.
“Daniel, come home.””
“I’m not going anywhere.””
“You need sleep.””
“My mother needs protection.””
Her voice hardened.
“From me?””
I didn't answer.
She laughed once.
It wasn't a happy laugh.
It was the kind of laugh people use when they think you've become ridiculous.
“You really believe I would try to kill Eleanor?””
“I don't know what I believe anymore.””
“Then believe your wife.””
“I watched you.””
“Then your eyes deceived you.””
“My eyes don't usually do that.””
“Come home, Daniel.””
I looked toward the hospital entrance.
“No.””
“Daniel—”
I ended the call.
For several seconds, I sat there with the phone in my hand.
Then I noticed something.
A reflection in the rearview mirror.
A man standing near the hospital entrance.
Dark jacket.
Baseball cap pulled low.
Watching my car.
The second I turned around, he walked away.
I got out.
“Hey!””
He didn't stop.
I followed him across the parking lot.
By the time I reached the side of the building, he was gone.
Only an empty row of cars remained.
My pulse hammered.
I stood there, suddenly aware of how exposed I was.
Then another thought struck me.
The message.
The unknown number.
Whoever sent it knew I was here.
I pulled out my phone and called the number.
Straight to voicemail.
No name.
No greeting.
Nothing.
I walked back inside.
The security desk was near the emergency department, behind a glass partition. A tired-looking security officer glanced up as I approached.
“Can I help you?””
“I need to see surveillance footage.””
He frowned.
“For what?””
“I believe my wife was involved in an incident involving my mother.””
He looked toward the hallway.
“Patient room?””
“Two eighteen.””
His face changed.
Only slightly.
But I saw it.
“You know something?”” I asked.
“No.””
“You hesitated.””
“I didn’t.””
“You did.””
The officer leaned back.
“Sir, I can’t just pull up footage because you ask.””
“My mother was nearly suffocated tonight.””
That got his attention.
“By who?””
“My wife.””
His expression tightened.
“Your wife?””
“Yes.””
He glanced toward the nurses’ station.
Then lowered his voice.
“Wait here.””
He disappeared through a gray door.
Five minutes later, another man came out.
Older.
Gray hair.
Navy security jacket.
He extended his hand.
“I’m Leonard Price. Head of hospital security.””
“Daniel Hail.””
“I know.””
I stared at him.
“You know me?””
“I've seen you here.””
My throat went dry.
“When?””
He didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he looked around.
“Let’s go somewhere private.””
He led me into a small security office filled with monitors.
On one wall, a digital clock showed 10:47 p.m.
Leonard closed the door.
“What exactly are you looking for?””
“2:13 this morning.””
He stared at me.
“Why?””
“Someone told me to check it.””
“Who?””
“I don't know.””
“You received an anonymous message?””
“Yes.””
Leonard leaned against the desk.
“What did it say?””
I showed him.
He read it.
His expression became unreadable.
“You're sure this is your first time receiving something like this?””
“Yes.””
He handed the phone back.
“Did your mother say anything to you tonight?””
“Not yet.””
“Does she have memory problems?””
“No.””
“Is she capable of telling you clearly what happened?””
“Yes.””
Leonard nodded.
“Then you should probably ask her.””
“I will. But first, I want the footage.””
He studied me for several seconds.
Then he sat down and woke up one of the monitors.
“Camera?””
“Room 218 hallway.””
“That camera doesn't show inside the room.””
“No. Hospital policy.””
“Then how is it going to help?””
“We have a camera covering the hallway, and another near the medication station.””
He typed in a timestamp.
The screen filled with grainy black-and-white footage.
2:06 a.m.
The hallway outside Room 218 was empty.
A nurse pushed a cart past the camera.
Then disappeared around the corner.
2:09.
Nothing.
2:10.
Nothing.
2:11.
A figure appeared at the end of the hallway.
I leaned closer.
A woman.
Dark cardigan.
Hair tied back.
She stopped outside Room 218.
My stomach dropped.
Marissa.
I knew that posture.
That walk.
That way she held one shoulder slightly higher than the other.
“That's her.””
Leonard said nothing.
Marissa looked around.
Then she opened the door.
The timestamp changed.
*2:13 a.m.*
She disappeared into the room.
The hallway remained empty.
I felt cold.
“She was here for at least…”
“Seven minutes,” Leonard said.
“Keep playing.””
At 2:20, the door opened.
Marissa stepped out.
She wasn't carrying anything.
But she stood there for several seconds, staring through the glass toward the nurses’ station.
Then she reached into her pocket.
Pulled out her phone.
Made a call.
My chest tightened.
“Can you see who she called?””
“Not from this camera.””
“Can you get her phone records?””
Leonard gave me a look.
“No.””
On the screen, Marissa turned toward Room 218 again.
Then something happened.
A second figure appeared.
At first, I thought it was a nurse.
Then the person stepped under the light.
My breath stopped.
It was my mother.
Eleanor.
She was standing in the hallway.
Alone.
Barefoot.
Wearing a hospital gown.
I looked at Leonard.
“She was supposed to be asleep.””
He didn't answer.
On the footage, my mother approached Marissa.
They stood face-to-face.
There was no audio.
But their body language made the conversation look violent.
My mother raised one hand.
Marissa grabbed her wrist.
My chair scraped backward.
“What the hell?””
Leonard froze the footage.
“Don't jump to conclusions.””
“She's grabbing my mother.””
“I can see that.””
“Play it.””
He did.
My mother pulled her arm free.
Marissa said something.
My mother shook her head.
Then she pointed toward the room.
Marissa stepped closer.
My mother backed away.
Then Marissa reached into her purse.
I stood up so quickly I nearly knocked the chair over.
“What is that?””
Leonard zoomed in.
A small rectangular object appeared in Marissa's hand.
My mother recoiled.
Marissa held it out.
My mother refused it.
Then the picture became difficult to see.
They moved beyond the camera's best angle.
At 2:22, Marissa walked away.
My mother remained in the hallway.
At 2:23, she suddenly grabbed the wall.
Her knees buckled.
A nurse rushed toward her.
The footage stopped.
I could hear my own breathing.
“What happened after that?””
Leonard pulled up another angle.
The medication station camera.
It showed the nurse helping my mother back into Room 218.
But there was something else.
A man appeared from a different hallway.
Tall.
Dark jacket.
Baseball cap.
The same man I'd seen tonight.
He walked past the camera without looking up.
Then stopped outside Room 218.
I stared at the screen.
“Who is that?””
Leonard's jaw tightened.
“I don't know.””
“You're head of security.””
“I said I don't know.””
The man stood outside my mother's door for nearly thirty seconds.
Then he left.
“Was he here before?”” I asked.
Leonard hesitated.
“That isn't the first time we've seen him.””
I turned.
“What?””
“We've had him on footage three times in the last month.””
“Doing what?””
“Watching your mother’s room.””
A chill ran down my spine.
“Why didn't you tell me?””
“Because we never had evidence he was doing anything illegal.””
“And you didn't think it was strange?””
Leonard looked at me.
“Mr. Hail, your mother's room has been one of the most unusual rooms in this hospital for weeks.””
I swallowed.
“What does that mean?””
Before he could answer, his phone rang.
He glanced at the screen.
His face changed.
“Excuse me.””
He stepped outside.
I watched him through the glass.
He spoke quietly.
Then he looked directly at me.
When he returned, he didn't sit down.
“Your mother woke up.””
Relief hit me so hard my knees almost weakened.
“Is she okay?””
“She asked for you.””
I moved toward the door.
Then Leonard caught my arm.
“There's something you need to know first.””
“What?””
He lowered his voice.
“She didn't ask for Marissa.””
I stared at him.
“Then who?””
Leonard looked toward the hallway.
“She asked for someone named Thomas.””
I didn't know anyone named Thomas.
“Thomas who?””
“That’s the problem.””
He paused.
“She said one more thing.””
“What?””
Leonard's eyes met mine.
“She said, ‘Daniel can't let Marissa find the red folder.’”
My stomach dropped.
“What red folder?””
“I was hoping you could tell me.””
I couldn't.
Because there was something else I hadn't told him.
A red folder had vanished from my mother's house three weeks earlier.
I had assumed it was nothing.
A bill.
Old paperwork.
Something unimportant.
But suddenly, I remembered who had been looking through Mom's desk that night.
Marissa.
I ran toward Room 218.
My mother was awake.
Her eyes found mine immediately.
She reached for my hand.
“Daniel.””
“Mom, who is Thomas?””
Her fingers tightened around mine.
“Close the door.””
I did.
Then she whispered the words that made my blood run cold.
“Your wife didn't come here to kill me.””
I stared at her.
“Then why was she holding that pillow?””
My mother looked toward the closed door.
“Because she wanted me to be quiet.””
“Quiet about what?””
She swallowed hard.
May you like
Then she whispered:
“What she thinks I know about your father.””
