1. Chapter One #3
“They have a time that places you inside the hotel when they believe she was killed.”
“But I wasn’t there,” he insists.
Julian closes the folder halfway. “The case they are building does not depend on what you know happened. It depends on what they can put in front of a judge and eventually a jury.”
Alessio’s jaw tightens.
I recognize the moment his fear turns back into anger. Anger is easier for him. It gives him something more substantial to do. Fear makes you feel helpless, useless.
“So they arrested me based on a timestamp?”
“They arrested you because they have footage placing you with the victim, footage they believe shows you leaving after the estimated time of death, and confirmation that you were the last known person with her.”
“What about the people at the desk? The witnesses,” Alessio says.
“I don't have information about them just yet,” Julian says. “But I'm working on it.”
I look at Julian. “The house has security cameras.”
“I know.”
“They cover the entrances. They will show him arriving. He has security.”
Alessio turns toward me. “Edoardo saw me too.”
“Edoardo is your brother,” Julian says. “The police will treat anything he says as an attempt to protect you. Security is employed by you.”
“They can’t dismiss the cameras.”
“They can challenge them.”
“On what basis?” I ask.
Julian leans back in his chair.
“The system belongs to the family. The footage is stored on equipment the family controls. Your security people have access to it. The police will argue that the recording could have been altered to show him arriving at an earlier time.”
“It wasn’t,” Alessio insists.
“I’m aware.”
“Then use it.”
“We will use anything that helps you. But your own security footage will not carry the weight you think it will, especially when the state has hotel footage showing a different time.”
I study Julian across the desk.
He is choosing his words carefully, which tells me he has already considered every argument I am about to make.
“It's enough for doubt,” I say.
“It gives us evidence to support an alibi,” he says. “The source of that evidence leaves room for the prosecution to attack it.”
“But the timestamps on these are wrong.” Alessio gestures disgustedly to the photograph.
“We have to establish that it is wrong.”
Alessio stands so abruptly that the chair legs scrape across the floor.
He turns away from the desk and walks toward the windows again.
“I know when I left,” he says.
His voice is lower now.
Julian closes the folder and waits.
Alessio braces one hand against the window frame. Beyond the glass, traffic moves through the city as if this is any other morning. People are going to work. Offices are opening. Somewhere, police officers are looking at that footage and congratulating themselves on finding a simple answer.
“I left her alive,” Alessio says.
I watch his reflection in the window.
“What was she doing when you left?” Julian asks.
Alessio’s eyes close briefly.
“Putting her dress back on.”
“Did she say anything?”
“She asked if she would see me again.”
“And what did you tell her?”
“Tonight. I told her I’d call her after I finished work.”
Julian remains quiet.
Alessio turns from the window. “She was alive. She was talking to me. I kissed her before I left.”
His hand curls at his side.
“I got home before 1:00.”
“I believe you,” Julian says.
“Then why are we talking like their footage matters more than the truth?”
“Because right now, it does.”
The answer stops Alessio for a moment.
Julian opens the folder again and places his hand on the still image.
“This is what the police see. They see you entering a hotel room with Genevieve. They see a timestamp that puts you there during the window in which she died. They see you leaving afterward.” Julia leans back.
“I'm not going to lie to you, Alessio. They also see a man with your last name and reputation, and they are ready to believe what they see because of it.”
Alessio returns to his chair, but he does not sit. He grips the back of it and looks down at the photograph.
“I would never hurt someone like that,” he says. “I'm not some kind of monster.”
I look at the image again.
There is nothing accidental about how neatly it fits. The window for the time of death ends at 1:00. Alessio appears on camera leaving thirty minutes later. Our own footage can be dismissed as family-controlled. His brothers’ testimony can be assumed to be simple family loyalty.
Every piece pushes in the same direction.
Toward my son.
“Someone is setting Alessio up,” I say.
Julian looks at me.
“I believe so. The time stamp on this footage did not change itself. They knew what the cops would see, and that it would be very damning.”
Alessio finally sits.
His anger has gone still, which concerns me more.
“Why?” he asks.
Neither Julian nor I answer.
We do not know enough yet.
I reach across the desk and tap the timestamp with one finger.
“We need someone who can prove what was done to this.”
Julian’s attention stays on the photograph for several seconds. Then he closes the folder and looks at me.
“I think I know someone who can help.”