CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 5
Mark tried to laugh.
It came out wrong.
“Thomas,” he said. “This is a private family event.”
One detective stepped forward and showed his badge.
“Mr. Whitmore, we need to speak with you regarding a domestic violence report, witness statements, and possible witness intimidation.”
A whisper moved through the guests.
Eleanor’s face tightened.
“This is ridiculous,” she snapped. “Rachel is emotional. She provokes him.”
My father turned his head slightly.
“Eleanor, I would stop talking.”
She did not.
“My son has been patient with that girl for years.”
I picked up my phone.
My hand was trembling, but my voice was steady.
“You mean patient like last night?”
I played the recording from my bedroom.
Mark’s voice filled the living room.
You still think your father can save you?
Then the sound of me telling him to let go.
Then his voice again.
No one will believe you over me.
The room changed.
People who had looked away now stared at the floor.
People who had laughed at Mark’s jokes now stepped back from him.
The detective opened the sealed folder.
Inside were photographs, medical notes, previous audio clips, security footage from the hallway, and the written statement I had signed that morning.
Mark stared at the folder.
Then at my father.
Then at me.
“You planned this.”
May you like
I looked at the cake, at the candles melting into white frosting.
“No,” I said. “You did.”
