CHAPTER 4: THE VIDEO IN THE AIR
“No…” Jason whimpered.
The word was paper-thin. It was the dry, whistling rattle of dry leaves scraping over an open grave:
“No… no, she couldn’t… the house was swept! Rachel hired a private security firm to sweep the ceilings!”
“Rachel hired an idiot,” I spoke aloud.
I stepped out into the center aisle.
My black heels made a clean, concussive *tack… tack… tack* against the oak floorboards.
I reached into my handbag, pulled out my iPhone, and plugged an optical adapter into the auxiliary audiovisual port built into the side of the church’s sound console:
*CLICK.*
I struck the mechanical screen toggle:
*ENTER.*
The forty-foot high-definition structural projection screens suspended above the choir loft—screens installed two years ago to project Sunday morning worship lyrics—ignited simultaneously in brilliant, clinical, four-thousand-pixel white daylight:
Resolving across the screens…
In crystal-clear, sixty-frame-per-second digital clarity…
Was the second-floor landing of the Southlake farmhouse:
`TIMESTAMP: OCTOBER 26 // 21:14:22 CST`
`CAMERA 02 // UPPER GALLERY`
He Arrived at His Pregnant Wife’s Funeral with His Mistress — Then Her Lawyer Opened the Will and Revealed the Truth …007
