The library was on the first floor, a large room lined with bookshelves and dominated by a heavy oak table.
Marco had already brought in the first person—Matthew, the security officer who had been helping them with the tapes. He sat in one of the chairs, his hands folded on the table, and his face pale under the warm light of the desk lamp.
Dante sat across from him. Marco stood by the door, arms crossed, his presence a silent threat.
"Walk me through your access to the security system," Dante said.
Matthew swallowed. "I have full access, sir. I can view all cameras, pull footage, adjust settings. It's part of my job."
"Who else has that level of access?"
"You do. Marco does. And Tony—he's the other security officer, works nights."
"That's it?"
"Yes, sir."
Dante leaned back in his chair, his eyes never leaving Matthew's face. "The footage was corrupted. Twenty-five minutes deleted from the hallway camera. The office camera disabled entirely. How would someone do that?"
