His mother added that I needed rest before the baby came.
The guests accepted drinks.
Plates were served.
Conversation continued.
I pressed my palm against the floor to keep from screaming.
The lie above me was so calm that for a few minutes I believed the message to my sister had failed and the people upstairs were exactly what Marcus said they were.
Friends.
Neighbors.
People who would leave after dessert and remember him as a worried husband.
A contraction tightened through my body.
I curled around my stomach and tried to breathe quietly.
The baby moved.
That movement was painful, but it was also the only answer I had.
I reached beneath the loosened panel and pulled out the old phone.
The battery warning glowed red.
I opened the recorder and checked the last file.
It was still there.
So were the earlier files.
I held the phone against my chest because I could not risk Marcus seeing the light through the bars.
