Chapter 14 - ELIZABETH CRANE
Elizabeth finally responded through an attorney.
She would not meet.
She would answer written questions.
Daniel agreed.
Question:
Why were you inside Richard Bennett's house on June 11, 2023?
Answer:
Richard asked me before his death to retrieve private accounting records if Judith attempted to close the estate without them.
Question:
Did you take the blue folder?
Yes.
Question:
Where is it?
Not with me.
Question:
Who has it?
No answer.
Question repeated through attorney.
Response:
I delivered it as instructed.
To whom?
I am not authorized to disclose that without the recipient's consent.
Daniel almost lost patience.
Claire reminded him that Elizabeth was not required to accept Richard's old secrecy forever.
But she also wasn't required to answer Daniel informally.
His attorney asked the obvious question.
Was the recipient Allison Mercer?
No.
Judith Bennett?
No.
Henry Walsh?
No.
Daniel?
No.
Then who?
Elizabeth declined.
That should have made her look sinister.
Instead, the next answer complicated it.
Did you personally access the HearthSight system within the past two months?
No.
Would you consent to comparison of device records with the recent logins?
Yes.
She did.
Her devices did not match.
Her home network was in Arizona during all three recent sessions.
Could be VPN.
No evidence of it.
So Elizabeth might explain the blue folder—
not the current admin access.
Then she answered one question Daniel had not asked.
Her attorney wrote:
Ms. Crane wishes to clarify that she did not install, maintain, or authorize concealed cameras in the Bennett residence. She repeatedly advised Richard Bennett to remove them after 2018.
Daniel stared.
Richard had kept them.
Why?
Elizabeth said:
Richard was convinced Judith and Allison would later dispute what he had said.
He wanted records.
That matched the footage.
Claire found it disturbing.
Daniel did too.
His father had built a family where conversation needed hidden cameras to count.
Then Elizabeth provided one document voluntarily.
Richard's handwritten instruction:
Blue folder goes to the person who can reopen the family books without benefiting from them.
No name.
Daniel hated it.
“That's useless.”
His attorney disagreed.
“It means the recipient may be a fiduciary, accountant, trustee or independent party.”
Claire looked at the sentence.
“Someone outside the family.”
“Possibly.”
That narrowed almost nothing.
Then the security forensic team made its final visit.
They removed the old HearthSight controller entirely.
No more hidden feeds.
No remote login.
No cached admin account.
The technician handed Claire the dead gray box.
“Do you want it?”
“No.”
Daniel answered:
“Evidence storage.”
Claire looked at him approvingly.
No family attic.
No mysterious drawer.
Document it.
Store it.
Then the technician said:
“There is one thing I still don't understand.”
Daniel looked at him.
“The JBennett sessions.”
“What about them?”
“They weren't remote.”
Claire stopped.
“We thought you couldn't tell.”
“Now I can.”
After reconstructing the old routing tables, all three recent sessions appeared to originate from the home network itself.
Someone physically connected to Claire and Daniel's Wi-Fi.
Inside the property.
Three times.
Before Allison contacted Daniel.
The first session lasted six minutes.
Second:
Nine.
Third:
Four.
Daniel asked:
“Could it be one of our devices?”
“No matching MAC address.”
“Guest?”
“Possible.”
“Contractor?”
“Possible.”
Claire looked toward the dining area.
They had painters.
A plumber.
A piano tuner.
Judith.
Friends.
Noah's babysitter.
Dozens of ordinary explanations.
Then the technician added:
“All three sessions happened on Tuesdays.”
Claire frowned.
“So?”
“Between 2:00 and 3:00 p.m.”
Noah at school.
Daniel at work.
Claire at her Tuesday physical-therapy appointments after a shoulder injury.
May you like
The house should have been empty.
Someone knew their schedule.
