On the screen, the yellow emergency lights of the hallway cast long, distorted shadows.

Mallerie was standing near the basement door, wearing her expensive faux-fur coat.

Jake stood next to her, holding a heavy pipe wrench and a red plastic canister.

“Are you sure the cameras are off?” Mallerie’s voice came through the phone’s speaker, thin and sharp.

“I cut the feed in the main office,” Jake replied on the video. “Nobody’s watching.”

On the screen, Mallerie pointed toward the basement door.

“Make sure the damage looks like an old pipe failed,” she said. “We need the insurance payout, and we need Carl blamed for neglect.”

“I’ll loose the safety valve on the boiler,” Jake said. “The steam will do the rest.”

The video showed Jake pulling open the heavy metal door to the basement.

Mallerie followed him down, her heels clicking on the concrete steps.

The video ended there.

Officer Miller looked from the phone to Derek’s face.

“You filmed this tonight?” Miller asked.

“About forty minutes ago,” Derek said. “I was hiding in the utility closet near the rear exit.”