Then, the sound started. It wasn't coming from his speakers. It was the rhythmic click-clack of leather soles on the hardwood floor in the hallway behind his office door.
The footage was grainy, shot in the sickly greenish hue of a night-vision baby monitor.
The file was buried three folders deep in a directory labeled TEMP_ARCHIVE_2014 . It was only 14 megabytes—too small for a feature film, too large for a simple audio clip. When Elias double-clicked it, the media player stuttered, the timestamp jumping immediately to despite the video only being six seconds long. The Content