Chapter 3 - The Hidden Frequency
By 6:00 p.m., the evening light had turned a bruised purple over the estate. Daniel had dismissed the technicians, paying them off with strict instructions never to speak of what they saw. He sat in his private study, the red car resting on his glass desk alongside the micro-tape Annie had extracted.
Rosa stood nervously near the door, her hands folded in her apron, while Annie sat on a plush velvet sofa, swinging her feet rhythmically. Ethan was sitting right beside Annie, showing her his favorite drawing books, completely attached to her side.
"Rosa," Daniel said, his voice quiet yet commanding. "Your husband... what was his name?"
"Miguel, sir," Rosa answered softly, her voice trembling slightly. "He was an audio technician and electrician before he passed. He loved working with tiny mechanisms. He taught Annie everything before he got sick."
Daniel looked at the tiny six-year-old girl. "Annie... how did you know the tape was there?"
Annie looked up from Ethan’s book. "Because the screw was turned the wrong way, sir. When someone breaks a toy, the screws are tight or loose from dropping it. But those screws were shiny and clean, like somebody took them out yesterday and put them back in real fast. And there was a tiny smell."
"A smell?" Daniel frowned.
"Fresh glue," Annie said simply. "The kind Mr. Halpern keeps in his desk for fixing picture frames."
Daniel felt a chill run down his spine. He slowly turned his head toward the heavy oak door of his study.
Mr. Halpern had been with the Whitmore family for nine years. He managed the staff, the estate finances, and the personal errands. When Claire passed away, Halpern had taken over every detail of the household to "lighten the master's burden."
Why would Halpern want to silence a dead woman’s voice?
Daniel reached for his phone and dialed his private investigator, Richard Vance. "Vance," Daniel said into the receiver, his voice turning to ice. "I need an immediate audit of all estate accounts managed by Halpern over the last two years. And I need a forensic sweep of the house's local server."
Ethan looked up from his book, holding out the red car. "Dad? Can Annie make Mommy finish talking?"
Daniel walked over and knelt beside the two children. He looked into Annie’s bright, perceptive eyes. "Can you, Annie? Can you get the rest of the message out?"
May you like
Annie took the toy again, her tiny fingers working with astonishing precision. "The wire is pinched, Mr. Whitmore. I need a soldering iron and a little piece of copper wire. But we have to be careful. If we push too hard, the memory chip might burn."
"Whatever you need," Daniel said. "You'll have it."
