Chapter 3 - The Phone on the Table
I beat Diane to it.
The phone was an old backup device I’d found that morning in Amelia’s desk drawer, dead and useless—or so I had thought. I snatched it off the table before Diane reached it.
“Why do you want this?” I demanded.
“I don’t.”
“You just ran for it.”
“I was going to call 911.”
“Your phone is in your hand.”
She looked down.
So did everyone else.
That was when her lie became visible.
Mei was already calling emergency services. I wrapped my jacket around Amelia’s shoulders while Noah crouched beside her, crying without making much sound.
“Mommy, I thought you left.”
Amelia’s face broke.
“Oh, baby. No. Never.”
Mother moved closer.
I stood between them.
“Stay back.”
“Daniel, I’m your mother.”
“And she just told me not to let you near my son.”
Her expression hardened. “She’s confused.”
Amelia raised her head.
“No,” she said. Her voice was weak, but clear. “I’m not.”
Sirens sounded in the distance.
Diane glanced toward the front windows.
I saw it.
A decision.
She turned and hurried toward the service hall.
“Mei,” I said, “lock the back door.”
Mei ran.
Diane spun around. “You can’t hold me here.”
“I’m not holding you. I’m preserving a crime scene.”
Mother laughed once, without humor. “You always did love dramatic words.”
“Then explain the hidden room.”
Silence.
“Explain my wife being inside it.”
No answer.
Paramedics entered two minutes later, followed by police. As they lifted Amelia onto a stretcher, she kept reaching for me.
“Daniel.”
“I’m here.”
“The phone,” she whispered.
I held it up.
Her eyes fixed on it.
“Charge it.”
“What’s on it?”
She swallowed.
“A recording.”
Mother’s face changed again.
This time, I didn’t miss it.
May you like
Amelia squeezed my hand.
“She thought I deleted it,” she whispered. “She was wrong.”
