Chapter 2 - THE STORY THEY WERE PRACTICING
Natalie’s house stood in a quiet subdivision in Westerville, twelve minutes from the hospital.
I called 911 from the driveway and told the dispatcher my daughter was in intensive care after an alleged domestic assault. I also said I had a key and intended to retrieve her identification and medication.
The dispatcher told me to wait for officers.
Then I saw Mark through the upstairs window.
He pulled the curtain closed.
I used Natalie’s spare key.
A dented laundry basket lay at the bottom of the staircase. Several shirts had been arranged around it too neatly, as though someone had built a picture of an accident after the fact.
Voices came from the bedroom.
“She was dizzy,” Mark said. “That’s all either of you needs to say.”
“You pushed her too hard,” a younger woman answered.
Diane snapped, “He was trying to get the phone.”
I began recording.
The bedroom door was locked, so I struck it once with the heel of my boot. The cheap latch split from the frame.
Mark jumped up from the bed. He wore a gray T-shirt and the terrified expression of a man whose private rehearsal had acquired an audience.
Diane stood near the dresser in a pink blouse and jeans. A cast-iron skillet hung from her right hand.
Lauren, Mark’s younger sister, stood beside the window in gray sweats. Her face was swollen from crying.
“My daughter named you both,” I said.
Mark lifted his hands.
“She fell. I never touched her.”
Diane lowered the skillet to her side. “You cannot walk into this house and accuse us.”
“I already did.”
I kept the camera pointed at them.
Mark’s eyes followed the phone. “Turn that off.”
“No.”
Lauren backed into the wall. As she raised one hand, I saw dark swelling across her knuckles and a cut near her thumb.
“What happened to your hand?”
She looked at Diane.
Diane’s grip tightened around the skillet.
I took another step into the room.
“Natalie gave a statement at the hospital. She said Mark and Diane attacked her. She said Lauren tried to stop them.”
Mark’s face lost its color.
Diane moved toward me. “She was drugged. She doesn’t know what she said.”
The front door opened downstairs.
“Westerville Police!”
The skillet slipped from Diane’s hand and hit the carpeted floor.
Lauren covered her mouth.
May you like
Then she said the words that changed the investigation from a family dispute into something larger.
“They weren’t trying to kill her. They were trying to make her unlock her phone.”
