Instead, the letter seemed to acknowledge the equipment while arguing about consent.
The argument had shifted.
We were no longer discussing a lost object that somehow appeared behind my clock.
We were discussing who had given permission for that object to be there.
I knew my answer.
Chapter 22: The Storage Account
Sato called to say the digital examination was progressing.
She explained that investigators had identified an account associated with the camera’s configuration.
She did not share credentials or private account information.
She did tell me that investigators were seeking records through appropriate legal process.
The device had stored some material locally and appeared capable of transmitting event notifications.
That explained how someone might know it had stopped working soon after I disconnected it.
It did not establish that Patricia had been the person receiving those notifications.
Sato said investigators were also reviewing whether the device contained recordings of conversations.
I asked if there was a way to know whether anyone had downloaded the footage.
She said the answer depended on the available logs and service records.
The uncertainty was painful.
For weeks I had imagined one person watching from a phone.
Now I had to consider accounts, forwarded files, and recipients whose names I did not know.
Sato told me to focus on what I could control.
She asked me to preserve threatening messages, avoid discussing details with possible witnesses, and report any new attempts to enter my house.
I asked whether changing my home network had damaged evidence.
She said the investigators had documented what they needed from the device and that protecting my current accounts was sensible.
Before ending the call, she asked a question about the mantel clock.
Had Patricia ever shown special interest in it before my surgery?
I remembered her asking whether my mother had bought it in an antique store.
I remembered telling her it had been a wedding gift from my grandfather.
I remembered Patricia touching its brass edge and saying it would look better closer to the couch.
The memories had been harmless when they occurred.
They were unbearable now.
Chapter 23: The Real Buyer
Daniel and I drove to the machine shop on a rainy Thursday.
The building smelled of metal dust, old oil, and the coffee our father used to brew far too strong.
Most employees had gone home.
Daniel unlocked the office and showed me an envelope from the partnership that employed Wesley Pike.
The offer included a proposed purchase schedule, but the buyer’s legal entity had changed names twice in six months.
