Chapter 9 - THE NIGHT BEFORE
Dana watched the recording twice.
Detective Moreno watched it once.
I couldn’t finish it the first time.
Deborah’s living room appeared on-screen.
Timestamp:
8:17 p.m.
The night before my labor.
Travis sat on the couch.
Martin stood near the fireplace.
Natalie sat in a chair.
Deborah paced.
Her voice was clear.
“If Rachel starts complaining tomorrow, you are not canceling on me.”
Travis rubbed his face.
“She’s due any day.”
“She’s been ‘due any day’ for two weeks.”
“She’s having twins.”
“So?”
Martin laughed.
“My mother delivered me in a farmhouse.”
Deborah pointed toward Travis.
“You have spoiled that girl.”
I sat in Dana’s office staring at the screen.
My stomach twisted.
Travis said:
“If she’s actually in labor, I have to take her.”
Deborah stopped pacing.
“No.”
One word.
Flat.
Absolute.
“She has a phone.”
“What if she wants me there?”
“She always wants you there.”
Deborah sat down.
“You need boundaries.”
Natalie spoke softly.
“Maybe we should just move the shopping trip.”
Deborah shot her a look.
“No.”
Then she said:
“If Rachel starts her nonsense, tell her to lie down.”
Travis laughed nervously.
“She’ll get in the car herself.”
“Then take the keys.”
My breath stopped.
Dana paused the video.
Nobody spoke.
“Play it,” I whispered.
She did.
Martin said:
“Lock the outside latch if you have to.”
The room went silent.
On the video, Travis stared at his father.
Then Deborah said:
“Exactly.”
My hands began shaking.
Travis didn’t object.
He didn’t say that was insane.
He just nodded.
Then he said:
“She’ll be pissed.”
Deborah laughed.
“She’ll get over it.”
The recording ended seven minutes later.
Detective Moreno leaned back.
“That changes things.”
“How?”
“Premeditation.”
I stared at him.
“They planned to keep me inside.”
“Yes.”
“Before I was even in labor.”
“Yes.”
My throat tightened.
Dana looked at Moreno.
“Reckless endangerment?”
“Potentially unlawful imprisonment. The prosecutor will decide charges.”
“Attempted—”
Dana stopped herself.
Moreno shook his head.
“Intent to kill is another matter. We don’t have that.”
I didn’t need murder charges.
What they had done was bad enough.
Three days later, police arrested Travis.
They arrested Martin too.
Deborah was charged later after prosecutors reviewed the recording.
Natalie cooperated.
The local news picked up the story.
I hated that.
Strangers knew about my body.
My bleeding.
My children.
My marriage.
But something unexpected happened.
Women began writing to me.
Hundreds.
One said her husband had taken her phone during labor because he thought she was “dramatic.”
Another said her mother-in-law had stopped her from going to the emergency room during a miscarriage.
Another wrote:
I thought what happened to me wasn’t abuse because nobody hit me. Thank you for talking.
I stared at that message for a long time.
Then Noah came home.
Forty-one days after his birth.
I carried him through the door of the apartment above Evan’s sister’s bakery.
Emma slept in a carrier against my chest.
Noah looked impossibly small in his car seat.
I stood inside the little apartment and cried.
Not because it was beautiful.
It wasn’t.
The kitchen was narrow.
The floors creaked.
The living room window stuck halfway open.
But it was mine.
No one could lock me in.
No one could take my keys.
No one could tell me I needed permission to leave.
That night, both babies finally slept at the same time.
I sat on the couch.
Then my phone buzzed.
A message from Dana.
Travis made bail.
Another message appeared immediately.
He’s missing.
May you like
I stared at the screen.
Then someone knocked on my apartment door.
