By Sunday morning, I had slept approximately ninety minutes.
Ben took me home after midnight, but my body refused to understand that the crisis had temporarily paused.
Every time I closed my eyes, I heard Paige scream.
I saw the bruise.
Then Kate’s face.
Then Ryan standing outside the hospital room listening.
At three twenty, I gave up.
I went downstairs, made tea, and spread the yellow legal pad across the kitchen table.
Ben found me there just after six.
He looked at the pages.
“You’re building a case.”
“I’m building a timeline.”
“Same difference.”
I did not argue.
I had divided the paper into three columns.
Known.
Claimed.
Unverified.
Under Known:
Kate called me at 8:11.
Arrived approximately 9:45.
Paige already crying.
Kate stated she had a difficult night.
I found injury before 10:30.
Hospital at 10:56.
Current femur fracture.
Older healing rib fracture.
Under Claimed:
Kate says Ryan was alone with Paige while she showered.
Kate says Paige screamed when moved into car seat.
Ryan says Kate hurt Paige before shower.
Ryan says injury occurred near changing table.
Kate says no changing table in bedroom.
Under Unverified:
Who cared for Paige before rib injury.
Exact age of rib fracture.
Whether Ryan knew about left leg before hospital.
Whether Kate’s lawyer had documented concerns.
Ben read quietly.
Then he tapped the final column.
“What about the baby monitor?”
I looked at him.
“What baby monitor?”
“At Kate’s.”
My memory stirred.
Christmas.
Mom had bought them an expensive video monitor.
Something with an app.
“Does it record?”
“I don’t know.”
Ben shrugged.
“Tess and Evan have one that saves clips when there’s sound or motion.”
I grabbed my phone.
Kate did not answer.
I called again.
Nothing.
Then I remembered where she was.
Hospital phone restrictions.
Interviews.
Possibly asleep in some family room.
I called Mom.
She answered on the second ring.
“Ally?”
“Is Kate with you?”
“No. I’m home.”
“Do you know what baby monitor she has?”
Silence.
“What?”
“The brand. Paige’s monitor.”
“Why?”
“Because it may save recordings.”
Mom became alert instantly.
“Oh.”
“Do you remember?”
“I bought it.”
“Can you check?”
“I ordered it online. Give me a second.”
I heard movement.
A cabinet.
Papers.
Then typing.
“It’s called Nestling View.”
“Does it save video?”
“I don’t know.”
“Send me the exact model.”
Thirty seconds later, a screenshot arrived.
Ben searched the manufacturer’s public manual.
Cloud recordings were optional.
If enabled, audio and motion events could be stored for thirty days.
My pulse jumped.
“How old is the rib fracture?”
Ben understood immediately.
“We don’t know.”
“Dana said healing. Maybe weeks.”
“If the clip still exists—”
I was already calling Detective Ellison.
It went to voicemail.
I left a message.
Then I called Dana.
She answered.
I explained.
There was a pause.
“Do not attempt to access the account yourself.”
“I wasn’t going to.”
That was only partly true.
“We’ll ask Kate whether recordings are enabled,” Dana said.
“And if Ryan controls the account?”
“Then investigators can take appropriate steps.”
“What if he deletes them?”
Another pause.
“Ally.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I. Don’t contact him. Don’t log into anything. Don’t alert him.”
The warning chilled me.
“You think he might?”
“I’m telling you not to interfere with evidence.”
Fair.
I promised.
Then I waited.
Waiting was unbearable.
At nine thirty, Kate finally called.
“You asked about the monitor?”
“Yes.”
“Dana asked me too.”
“Does it record?”
“I think so.”
“You think?”
“Ryan set it up.”
Of course he had.
“Do you have the login?”
“Yes.”
“Don’t touch it.”
“I know.”
“Dana told you?”
“Yes.”
Kate sounded different.
Flat.
Exhausted.
“Where are you?”
“Hospital.”
“Is Paige awake?”
“Sleeping.”
“Can you see her?”
“Supervised.”
I heard quiet breathing.
Then Kate said, “They’re talking about emergency placement.”
My chest tightened.
“With who?”
“I don’t know.”
“Family?”
“Maybe.”
“Mom?”
“They’re considering her.”
“What about me?”
Kate went quiet.
“They asked.”
“What did you say?”
“I said yes.”
One word.
But this time it meant something different.
Trust.
Real trust.
“Okay.”
My voice broke.
“I’ll do whatever they need.”
“I know.”
Another silence.
Then Kate said, “Ally?”
“Yes?”
“If they put Paige with you…”
She stopped.
“What?”
“Don’t let Ryan near her.”
My hand tightened around the phone.
“I won’t.”
“He’ll act calm.”
“I know.”
“He’ll say this is all a misunderstanding.”
“I know.”
“He’ll say I’m unstable.”
“Kate.”
“He’s good when people are watching.”
I stared out the kitchen window.
The maple leaves moved in the wind.
The same leaves Paige had ignored the morning before.
“Then let people watch closely.”
Kate started crying quietly.
I stayed on the phone until she could speak again.
At noon, Detective Ellison called.
He needed me to return to the hospital.
Ben drove.
Neither of us talked much.
We found Ellison and Dana in the same consultation room as before.
Kate was already there.
Her face looked gray with fatigue.
On the table sat a laptop.
Detective Ellison closed the door.
“The monitoring account was active.”
My pulse accelerated.
“Did it save recordings?”
“Yes.”
Kate covered her mouth.
“How far back?”
“Thirty days automatically.”
My hope fell.
The Sunday dinner incident had been approximately five weeks earlier.
Too old.
Kate understood too.
“So nothing from the rib?”
“Not necessarily.”
Detective Ellison turned the laptop.
“The account also had several manually saved clips.”
Kate stared.
“Saved by who?”
“The account logs identify Ryan’s user profile.”
The room changed.
“Why would he save clips?” I asked.
“We don’t know.”
Ellison opened a file.
The timestamp was twenty-six days earlier.
The video showed Paige’s nursery at night.
Infrared made everything gray.
Paige lay in the crib crying.
The camera angle covered most of the room.
Ryan entered.
He leaned over the crib.
His back blocked our view of Paige.
He said, “Enough.”
Not loudly.
That made it worse.
Paige continued crying.
Ryan lifted her.
The baby disappeared against his chest.
For several seconds he paced.
Then Paige screamed.
Kate flinched beside me.
The sound was unmistakable.
Not ordinary crying.
The same sharp pain cry I had heard.
On-screen, Ryan whispered something.
Detective Ellison increased the volume.
“Stop fighting me.”
My skin crawled.
The recording ended.
Kate began shaking.
“Is that when—”
“We can’t determine whether that clip corresponds to the rib injury,” Ellison said. “But it matters.”
He opened another.
Twenty-four days earlier.
Ryan stood beside the crib.
Paige was crying.
He said, “You’re fine.”
Then he lifted her.
Again the camera lost sight of most of her body.
A thump sounded.
Not loud.
Ryan froze.
Paige screamed.
He stared toward the camera.
Then walked directly to it.
The video ended.
My mouth went dry.
“He turned it off,” Kate whispered.
Detective Ellison nodded.
A third clip.
This one was daytime.
Kate entered first.
She carried laundry.
Ryan was in the rocker holding Paige.
The audio began halfway through an argument.
Kate: “Give her to me.”
Ryan: “She’s fine.”
Kate: “You’re angry.”
Ryan: “I’m not angry.”
Kate: “Then stop squeezing her.”
The video ended.
Kate stood so abruptly her chair fell backward.
“Oh my God.”
She moved away from the table.
“I forgot.”
Dana stood with her.
“What did you forget?”
“That argument.”
“What happened?”
Kate pressed both hands against her temples.
“He wouldn’t give her to me.”
“When?”
“That day. I don’t remember exactly.”
“What happened before the recording?”
“Paige had been crying.”
“What happened afterward?”
“He gave her to me.”
“Was she hurt?”
“I didn’t know.”
“Did she seem different?”
Kate nodded slowly.
“She slept almost the whole afternoon.”
I looked at Detective Ellison.
“Could that have been the rib?”
“We can’t conclude that from the video.”
“But it could fit the timing.”
“It could.”
He opened another screen.
“There’s something else.”
Account activity.
A list of dates and times.
Dozens of saved clips.
Deleted clips too.
Most deletions came from Ryan’s profile.
One deletion stood out.
Yesterday.
8:38 A.M.
My heart stopped.
“That’s the morning she came to me.”
“Yes.”
“What was deleted?”
“We don’t yet have the video itself.”
“Can it be recovered?”
“We’re working on that.”
Kate sat down again.
Her face had gone completely still.
“What time did I get in the shower?”
“Do you remember?”
“Around eight twenty-five.”
I looked at the timestamp.
8:38.
Exactly when Ryan had been alone with Paige.
Detective Ellison said, “The provider confirmed a motion-triggered recording was created at 8:36 and deleted at 8:38.”
Kate whispered, “He deleted it before we left the house.”
“No way to know precisely when he initiated deletion without full logs,” Ellison said.
But his careful wording no longer concealed the significance.
The account had captured something.
Ryan had removed it.
Minutes before Paige appeared at my door crying with a broken femur.
Then Ellison opened one final item.
“This is not video.”
An audio file.
“Why was it saved?” I asked.
“We believe the camera began recording on motion, but the lens was obstructed.”
He pressed play.
Static.
Paige crying.
Footsteps.
Then Ryan’s voice.
“Stop.”
Paige cried harder.
A rustle.
Then another adult voice.
Kate.
“Ryan, give her to me.”
The recording continued.
Ryan: “She’s doing it on purpose.”
Kate: “She’s a baby.”
Ryan: “She knows exactly what she’s doing.”
A sharp movement.
Kate shouted, “Don’t twist her like that.”
The audio ended.
Nobody moved.
My eyes went to the timestamp.
Twenty-seven days earlier.
Not yesterday.
Not the femur.
Something earlier.
Something that may have explained the rib.
Kate stared at the laptop.
“I said that?”
Her voice was barely audible.
“Yes,” Detective Ellison said.
She began crying.
Not the panicked tears from before.
These were different.
Recognition.
Memory returning after fear had buried it.
“I remember.”
Dana crouched beside her.
“What do you remember?”
Kate looked at us.
“He was trying to put her into the sleep sack. She kept kicking.”
Her face twisted.
“He grabbed her around the chest.”
My stomach turned.
“What happened?”
Kate shut her eyes.
“He squeezed her.”
The room became silent.
“And I told myself he was just frustrated.”
She covered her face.
“He squeezed her, and I told myself it wasn’t what I thought.”
Detective Ellison closed the laptop.
For the first time since the investigation began, his expression showed something beyond professional neutrality.
Not certainty.
But direction.
Then his phone rang.
He answered.
Listened.
His face changed.
“Where?”
Another pause.
“When?”
He stood.
“All right. Don’t let him leave.”
He ended the call.
Kate looked up.
“What happened?”
Detective Ellison took his jacket from the back of the chair.
“Ryan is at the house.”
My pulse jumped.
“Whose house?”
“Yours.”
Kate turned pale.
“He was told not to go there.”
“I know.”
“Why is he there?”
Ellison looked at the laptop.
Then at us.
“Because officers just found him carrying a computer tower, two phones, and the baby-monitor base station toward his car.”
Click here to continue reading: PART 9: Ryan’s Attempt to Remove the Baby Monitor Changed the Investigation, but What Police Found Inside His Car Raised a Worse Question
Twenty Minutes After My Sister Left Her Baby With Me, One Small Movement Changed an Ordinary Saturday Into an Emergency
Part 8 of 35
