Chapter 2 - The Camera Jiso Thought Was Dead
Lisa was treated at a hospital in Stamford that morning.
The burn required care and follow-up, but doctors told Mason the injury was not expected to threaten the use of her hand.
He should have felt relieved.
Instead, he could barely look at himself.
Monday was examined separately for injuries from the broken clothing rack and Mason’s kick.
She refused when Mason tried to approach her in the emergency department.
“Please.”
Monday looked at him with a swollen cheek.
“No.”
One word.
Enough.
Mason stopped.
Jiso was not allowed near Lisa.
Police had already spoken separately with everyone who witnessed the nursery incident.
The iron, damaged rack, burned towel, camera unit, and USB were preserved rather than passed around inside the family.
Mason called his attorney, Rebecca Sloan, before noon.
“I kicked the wrong person.”
Rebecca’s response was immediate.
“Do not start shaping the story around guilt. Tell the truth exactly as it happened.”
“I saw my daughter hurt.”
“I understand.”
“I believed Jiso.”
“That explains your reaction. It does not erase it.”
Mason closed his eyes.
“I know.”
By afternoon, Monday agreed through her own attorney to explain the USB.
The nursery camera had never truly stopped recording.
The cloud connection had been disabled.
The device still stored short local clips on an internal memory card.
Monday discovered that by accident when Lisa’s monitor app stopped working.
She had become suspicious because Jiso repeatedly entered the nursery during Monday’s breaks and then insisted she had never been there.
Three days earlier, Monday copied the recent files onto a USB.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Mason asked from across the attorney’s conference room.
Monday looked at him.
“I tried.”
Mason frowned.
“When?”
“Tuesday.”
He remembered.
Monday had asked whether they could talk privately about Lisa.
Jiso entered midway through the conversation.
Mason had received a business call.
He told Monday they would finish later.
They never did.
Monday continued.
“I wasn’t ready to accuse somebody in your family without proof.”
There it was.
Family.
The word Mason had carefully avoided.
Jiso was not an employee.
Not a visiting friend.
She was Claire’s older sister.
Lisa’s maternal aunt.
After Claire died suddenly seven months after giving birth, Jiso became almost impossible to remove from the house.
She said she was helping.
Mason believed her.
Monday’s attorney placed one still image on the table.
Jiso stood beside Lisa’s crib at 1:18 a.m. two nights earlier.
In her hand was a folder.
Not baby formula.
Not medicine.
A financial folder.
Mason recognized it immediately.
May you like
It belonged to Lisa’s trust.
And Jiso had no reason to have it in the nursery at one in the morning.
