Chapter 8: What the Camera Saw
The police removed the camera.
I wasn't allowed to touch it.
That was fine with me.
I never wanted to touch anything Patricia had put near my daughter.
Emily and I left with two suitcases and Mr. Bunny.
As we drove toward Mark's house, she sat silently in the back seat.
“Dad?””
“Yeah, peanut?””
“Is Grandma bad?””
I looked at her through the mirror.
There are questions parents want to answer with certainty.
That wasn't one of them.
“Grandma made choices that weren't okay.””
Emily stared out the window.
“She used to make pancakes shaped like hearts.””
My throat tightened.
“I know.””
“So how can she be mean?””
I searched for the right words.
“People can do kind things and still make harmful choices.””
Emily thought about that.
Then she whispered, “Mommy too?””
I couldn't answer immediately.
“Your mom loves you.””
“Then why did she scare me?””
That one hurt.
“Sometimes loving someone doesn't stop a person from making terrible choices.””
Emily nodded, but I could tell she didn't understand.
Maybe no eight-year-old should.
Mark met us at his front door.
My older brother didn't ask questions in front of Emily.
He just knelt.
“Guest room's yours, Em.””
“Can Mr. Bunny sleep there?””
“Mr. Bunny owns the room now.””
Emily smiled.
That tiny smile felt like oxygen.
After she fell asleep, Mark joined me in the kitchen.
Michael called shortly after midnight.
“They accessed the camera's storage.””
I gripped the phone.
“And?””
“Some footage is missing.””
“Missing?””
“Deleted.””
“Can they recover it?””
“They're trying.””
Mark watched me from across the kitchen island.
Michael continued.
“But there are surviving clips.””
My stomach twisted.
“What do they show?””
“Your house. Emily's room. You cleaning. Emily playing.””
I closed my eyes.
“Anything else?””
“Yes.””
A pause.
“One clip shows someone approaching the window.””
“Patricia?””
“They can't confirm the face.””
“But?””
“The person appears to be an older woman.””
I paced toward the sink.
“What does she do?””
“She adjusts the camera.””
“That's it?””
“No.””
Michael's voice changed.
“She also holds something up to the window.””
“What?””
“A photograph.””
I stopped.
“Of what?””
“You.””
I frowned.
“Why?””
“We don't know.””
Michael continued.
“The person points toward your photograph and appears to speak through the glass.””
“To who?””
“Emily.””
My stomach dropped.
“Emily was in the room?””
“Yes.””
I looked toward the hallway.
My daughter was sleeping twenty feet away.
“What did Patricia say?””
“No audio.””
I walked to Emily's room.
I didn't enter.
I just stood outside.
“Daniel?””
“I'm here.””
“Ask Emily tomorrow whether Patricia ever spoke to her through the window.””
I hated those words.
The next morning, Ms. Reynolds arrived.
She spoke with Emily privately first.
Then Emily asked for me.
I sat beside her on the couch.
Ms. Reynolds placed a blank sheet of paper on the coffee table.
“Emily, remember the game we talked about?””
Emily nodded.
“Secret Guardian.””
“What were the rules?””
Emily picked up a purple crayon.
“Grandma said I had to watch Dad.””
“What did you watch for?””
“If he got angry.””
“Anything else?””
“If he had medicine.””
I stopped breathing.
Ms. Reynolds remained calm.
“What kind of medicine?””
“Bad medicine.””
“What made medicine bad?””
“Grandma said bad medicine makes daddies sleepy and forget things.””
I felt sick.
Emily drew circles on the paper.
“Did you ever see bad medicine?””
She nodded.
“The orange bottle.””
Ms. Reynolds glanced at me.
“Where?””
“At Grandma's.””
“When?””
“Before Mommy put it in my bag.””
That contradicted Sarah's voicemail.
Sarah claimed she didn't know what was inside.
Maybe she didn't.
But Patricia clearly did.
Ms. Reynolds asked, “Did Grandma ever talk to you through your bedroom window?””
Emily's crayon stopped.
“Yes.””
My jaw tightened.
“What did she say?””
Emily looked at me.
“Don't be mad.””
“I'm not mad at you.””
“She said if I saw the orange bottle in your room, I had to take a picture.””
My heart hammered.
“Did you?””
“No.””
“Why?””
“Because it wasn't there.””
Ms. Reynolds asked, “What happened then?””
“Grandma got mad.””
“How do you know?””
“She came to the window again.””
Emily's eyes filled with tears.
“She said I wasn't helping Mommy.””
I reached for her hand.
She squeezed mine.
Then Ms. Reynolds asked the question that changed everything.
“Emily, did Grandma ever ask you to put the bottle somewhere?””
Emily went completely still.
I could feel the answer before she spoke.
“Yes.””
“Where?””
“Next to Dad's bed.””
I couldn't move.
“Did you do it?””
Emily shook her head violently.
“No.””
“Why not?””
“Because Dad doesn't take orange medicine.””
A tear slid down her cheek.
“So I hid it.””
I stared at her.
“You hid the bottle?””
She nodded.
“Before Mommy found it.””
My mind raced.
But I'd found a bottle in her overnight bag.
“Emily, where did you hide it?””
She looked confused.
“In Mr. Bunny.””
The room went silent.
Mr. Bunny was sitting beside her.
I stared at the stuffed rabbit.
Emily pointed toward a zipper beneath its faded white tail.
“I put Grandma's bottle inside.””
My skin went cold.
Then what had I found in the overnight bag?
Ms. Reynolds looked at me.
“Don't touch the rabbit.””
She called the police.
Twenty minutes later, an officer carefully opened the hidden zipper.
Inside was an orange prescription bottle.
A different one.
The label had been partially torn away.
May you like
But one name remained visible.
*LILY MERCER.*
