Chapter 6: The Person in Apartment 1708

The courtroom seemed to shrink around me.

The access log remained frozen on the screen.

September 18.

10:11 p.m.

Unit 1708.

Adriana's apartment.

The judge looked toward the building's maintenance supervisor.

“Can you identify who entered that apartment?”

The supervisor shook his head.

“The system only records the key fob number.”

“But every resident's fob is registered.”

The judge turned to the clerk.

“Can we match the fob?”

The clerk typed rapidly.

A few seconds later, her expression changed.

“Your Honor, the access card was registered to Ms. Ferraro.”

A wave of whispers swept through the gallery.

Adriana immediately stood.

“That's impossible!”

“I never entered my apartment that night.”

I stared at her.

“Then who did?”

She opened her mouth, but no answer came.

Her lawyer stepped forward.

“A key fob can be borrowed or duplicated. This doesn't prove Ms. Ferraro was responsible for anything.”

The judge nodded.

“Agreed. It does not establish responsibility by itself.”

I felt a strange calm settle over me.

For the first time, the burden was no longer entirely on me.

There was something concrete to investigate.

I turned toward the maintenance supervisor.

“Can you show us the building's camera footage from that night?”

He hesitated.

“The hallway cameras are usually stored for thirty days.”

“Then there should still be a copy.”

The judge ordered the footage to be retrieved.

The supervisor left the courtroom and returned nearly twenty minutes later with a laptop.

He connected it to the courtroom display.

The first camera showed the sixteenth-floor hallway.

At 10:03 p.m., nothing happened.

At 10:07, still nothing.

Then, at 10:10, the elevator doors opened.

A person stepped out.

The image was blurry, but the figure was unmistakably carrying something large.

A black equipment case.

The person walked toward Unit 1708.

Adriana's apartment.

At 10:11, the door opened.

The figure went inside.

Five minutes later, the person came back out.

But this time, the equipment case was gone.

The courtroom was silent.

The judge paused the footage.

“Can we identify this person?”

The supervisor shook his head.

“Not from this angle.”

I stared at the frozen image.

Something about the person's posture felt familiar.

Then I noticed the shoes.

Black leather boots.

A silver strip across the heel.

I'd seen them before.

I looked toward Adriana's lawyer.

He was wearing the same style of boots.

My heart skipped.

But I stopped myself.

A pair of shoes wasn't proof.

The judge ordered another camera angle.

The supervisor switched to the lobby feed.

At 10:01 p.m., the same person entered the building.

This time, the camera caught the face for less than a second.

The image froze.

Adriana gasped.

The lawyer beside her went completely still.

The person on the screen wasn't the lawyer.

It was a man I'd never seen before.

The maintenance supervisor leaned closer to the screen.

“That's strange.”

“What?” the judge asked.

He pointed at the man's hand.

“He's carrying a maintenance badge.”

I frowned.

“But why would a maintenance worker be entering Ms. Ferraro's apartment?”

Nobody answered.

Then the supervisor's phone rang.

He stepped outside to take the call.

When he returned, the color had drained from his face.

“Your Honor…”

He looked directly at Adriana.

“There's a problem.”

The judge raised an eyebrow.

“What problem?”

“The maintenance badge used that night wasn't issued to any current employee.”

Adriana's face turned white.

The judge leaned back slowly.

“Then who had it?”

The supervisor swallowed.

“That's what we're trying to determine.”

I looked at the screen again.

For the first time, I wasn't wondering whether I could prove my innocence.

I was wondering why someone had gone to so much trouble to make me look guilty.

And if the recording had been created inside Adriana's apartment, then the real question was no longer who made the noise.

It was this:

Who had entered Unit 1708 that night, and what had they been trying to hide?