PART 7
Margaret overheard enough to understand.
“There are cameras all over our property,” she said.
Her tone was suddenly careful.
“For security.”
“Good,” I answered.
“Then they may help establish what happened.”
She looked at me as if she had expected a threat.
I gave her none.
That seemed to frighten her more.
People like Margaret understood anger.
Anger could be mocked.
Provoked.
Recorded.
A request to preserve evidence was harder to turn into a family
melodrama.
PART 8
Emily remained in the hospital overnight.
I stayed.
At three in the morning she woke and found me sitting beside the window.
“Mom?”
“I’m here.”
“Are you mad at me?”
The question broke something inside me.
“For what?”
“For marrying him.”
I moved beside her.
“No.”
“I should’ve known.”
“No.”
“He wasn’t always like this.”
“I believe you.”
That was all she needed then.
Not analysis.
Not hindsight.
Not a lecture about warning signs.
Belief.
