Chapter 3 - Everything was recorded
Marcus moved toward me.
He never reached the bed.
The officers entered immediately.
“Marcus Vance?”
“What is this?”
“Step away from Mrs. Vance.”
Marcus’s face hardened.
“My wife just gave birth. This is a private family matter.”
One officer looked at the bruises around my throat.
“Not anymore.”
Marcus lunged toward Dad.
It was fast.
Stupid.
The officers seized him, turned him against the wall, and restrained his arms behind him.
“Get off me!”
Lily woke screaming.
I pulled her against my chest.
Dad immediately came beside me.
“You’re safe.”
Marcus twisted toward me.
“Emily! Tell them!”
I said nothing.
Dad lifted the stuffed bunny.
Marcus froze.
Dad turned its tiny hidden camera toward him.
“Everything was recorded.”
Harrison’s reaction confused me.
He didn’t look at the bunny.
He looked at Dad’s tattoo.
Then whispered:
“That isn’t what he means.”
Dad turned slowly.
“What did you say?”
Harrison’s mouth closed.
Marcus shouted:
“Dad, call Leonard!”
Leonard Pierce.
The Vance family attorney.
The man who had sent me an email six weeks earlier suggesting that an “amicable custody transfer” could prevent embarrassing allegations about my mental stability.
Except I had never been diagnosed with any mental illness.
Someone had been preparing a story about me.
Dad already knew.
So did Detective Lena Ortiz.
She appeared in the doorway moments later.
Marcus stopped struggling.
“You?”
Detective Ortiz had interviewed me privately after my pantry injury.
Marcus thought I had gone to urgent care because I slipped.
He never knew the physician photographed my injuries.
Never knew I had requested documentation.
Never knew Ortiz had been building a timeline.
She approached Harrison.
“Mr. Vance, don’t leave.”
Harrison’s expression changed.
“I’m not involved in whatever happened between them.”
Ortiz opened a folder.
“You sent your son messages discussing how to ‘keep Emily compliant.’”
His face tightened.
“That was taken out of context.”
“And you contacted an attorney regarding custody of a child who hadn’t been born yet.”
Silence.
Marcus looked at his father.
“Don’t say anything.”
Dad watched Harrison.
Then Harrison looked at the tattoo again.
“What does Fallujah have to do with this?” I asked.
Nobody answered.
Dad finally spoke.
“Nothing.”
Harrison whispered:
“Don’t lie to her.”
My father’s eyes hardened.
Harrison continued.
“Ask him what happened on April nineteenth.”
Dad went completely still.
May you like
I had never seen him afraid before.
Until then.
