Chapter 4
I couldn’t stop staring at the photographs.
There were dates written on the back.
Times.
Locations.
Comments.
“8:17 a.m. — Emily late leaving house.”
“5:42 p.m. — Emily drinking wine with neighbor.”
“7:11 p.m. — Sophie picked up by babysitter.”
It looked like surveillance.
Not memories.
Not family pictures.
Evidence.
Except the evidence was ridiculous.
I had one glass of wine with Jenna on her birthday.
Our babysitter picked Sophie up from dance class twice when I had late meetings.
One photograph showed me sitting alone in my parked car outside a pharmacy.
I remembered that day.
It was the first time I had found a hotel receipt in Michael’s jacket.
I had cried for twenty minutes before going home because I didn’t want Sophie to see me upset.
Someone had photographed me through the windshield.
My hands began shaking again.
Rachel took the envelope away.
“Don’t touch anything else.”
The police officer looked through the doorway toward Natalie.
“Do you know who took these?”
She shook her head.
“No.”
“Did Michael ever discuss hiring someone?”
“No.”
“Did Patricia?”
Natalie hesitated.
That hesitation was enough.
I looked at her.
“What did Patricia say?”
Natalie swallowed.
“She said divorces get ugly.”
Rachel stared at her.
“Go on.”
“She said if Michael wanted primary custody, he needed proof you were unstable.”
My stomach twisted.
“Unstable?”
Natalie immediately looked ashamed.
“I didn’t believe her.”
“You were planning to move into my house and marry my husband.”
“I know how it looks.”
“How it looks?”
I stepped toward her.
The officer shifted between us.
I stopped myself.
I wasn’t going to give them a single photograph that could be labeled “Emily loses control.”
Not tonight.
Not ever.
Rachel touched my arm.
“Come inside.”
The house felt different.
The same lamps were on.
Sophie’s backpack sat beside the stairs.
One of her sneakers was under the bench.
A purple crayon lay on the floor near the kitchen.
Normal pieces of our life.
Except now every room felt contaminated.
I looked around.
“Where is Sophie?”
“With my sister.”
I had sent her to my younger sister, Laura, that morning because Michael and I were supposed to attend Patricia’s dinner.
Thank God.
Rachel exhaled.
“Keep her there tonight.”
I nodded.
One officer photographed the boxes.
Another took statements from Jenna and Natalie.
Then Rachel asked me to walk through the house and see whether anything was missing.
I started upstairs.
Our bedroom door was open.
Michael’s closet had been disturbed.
Drawers pulled out.
An empty space where his small home safe used to sit.
I stopped.
“The safe.”
Rachel looked at me.
“What safe?”
“He kept one in the closet.”
“What was inside?”
“I don’t know.”
She stared at me.
“You didn’t know the combination?”
“No.”
That seemed absurd now.
We had shared a mortgage.
A child.
A bed.
Nine years of marriage.
And my husband had a safe I couldn’t open.
Rachel took a picture of the empty shelf.
“Was it here before dinner?”
“I think so.”
Natalie appeared in the doorway with an officer.
She looked at the space.
“Oh no.”
I turned.
“You know about it.”
She covered her mouth.
“Natalie.”
Her eyes shifted toward the officer.
“I saw Michael put documents in it once.”
“What documents?”
“I don’t know.”
“When?”
“Two weeks ago.”
“Where is the safe now?”
“I don’t know.”
I believed her.
Mostly because she looked terrified.
The officer asked, “Did you remove it tonight?”
“No.”
“Did you see anyone else here?”
“No.”
Rachel looked at the empty shelf.
“If Michael was arrested directly from Patricia’s house, he couldn’t have moved it tonight.”
I thought of Patricia.
“She could have sent someone.”
Rachel nodded.
“Or someone had access earlier.”
My phone rang.
Laura.
I answered immediately.
“Is Sophie okay?”
“She’s fine.”
Her voice sounded tense.
“What happened?”
“I’ll explain later.”
“Emily, there’s a man sitting in a car across from my house.”
Every hair on my arms lifted.
“What?”
“A gray sedan. He’s been there almost an hour.”
Rachel heard.
“Ask her for the plate.”
I did.
Laura walked toward a window.
“Hold on.”
Then she gasped.
“What?”
“He’s driving away.”
“Did he see you?”
“I don’t know.”
“Get Sophie away from the windows. Lock the doors.”
“Emily, you’re scaring me.”
“I know.”
Rachel took the phone.
“Laura, this is Rachel Chen. I’m Emily’s attorney. Call 911 and tell them there may be a person connected to an ongoing domestic violence and financial fraud investigation watching your residence.”
Laura went silent.
Then, “What the hell is happening?”
“We’re trying to find out.”
The police sent a patrol car to Laura’s house.
I wanted to leave immediately and get Sophie.
Rachel stopped me.
“Not until we know where you’re going.”
“She’s my daughter.”
“And right now she’s safe.”
I hated that she was right.
An officer came upstairs.
“Ms. Walker?”
“Yes?”
“We found something in the garage.”
My stomach tightened.
We followed him downstairs.
The garage door was open.
Under fluorescent lights, another officer stood beside Michael’s workbench.
He had removed a loose wooden panel from the wall.
Behind it was a small black device with wires.
I stared at it.
“What is that?”
The officer held it carefully.
“Camera.”
My stomach dropped.
“What?”
“Hidden camera.”
Rachel’s face hardened.
“Where was it pointed?”
The officer gestured toward the garage entrance.
“The driveway.”
Another device lay on the workbench.
“And this one was inside the kitchen smoke detector.”
I stopped breathing.
“No.”
“We’re checking the rest of the house.”
I thought about every private conversation I’d had.
Phone calls with Rachel.
Conversations with my sister.
Times I had cried alone.
Arguments with Michael.
Had he recorded everything?
Had Patricia listened?
Had someone else?
The officer said, “These look wireless. We’ll need technical analysis.”
Rachel whispered, “Emily, did you know about any indoor security cameras?”
“No.”
Michael had installed cameras outside after a garage burglary two years earlier.
But inside?
Never.
I walked toward the kitchen.
The ceiling suddenly felt like it had eyes.
The officer followed me.
“Don’t remove anything.”
“I won’t.”
I looked at the table where Sophie ate cereal every morning.
Then at the smoke detector.
I felt sick.
A thought hit me.
“Rachel.”
She looked at me.
“What if he recorded me talking to you?”
“Attorney-client privilege doesn’t disappear because he secretly recorded you, but possession of those recordings could matter.”
“No. I mean before today.”
“When did you first contact me?”
“Three weeks ago.”
She understood instantly.
Michael had started behaving differently around the same time.
Kinder.
Too kind.
He bought flowers.
Asked questions about my plans.
Asked whether I was happy.
Asked if I had ever thought about living somewhere else.
At the time, I thought he felt guilty about the affair.
Now I wondered if he had been fishing for information.
Rachel took out her phone.
“I’m updating the petition tonight.”
The police eventually found four cameras.
Kitchen.
Home office.
Garage.
Living room.
None in Sophie’s bedroom.
Thank God.
But one was in the hallway outside our bedroom.
I couldn’t bring myself to think about what it had captured.
At nearly three in the morning, the officers finally finished documenting the house.
Natalie remained on the front porch.
She had called an attorney.
She refused to answer more questions.
Before leaving, she approached me.
Rachel stepped closer.
Natalie raised both hands.
“I’m not trying to fight.”
“What do you want?”
Her eyes were red.
“I need to tell you one thing.”
Rachel said, “Be careful what you say.”
Natalie nodded.
She looked at me.
“I thought Michael loved me.”
I almost turned away.
Then she added, “But tonight I realized he lied to me too.”
“That doesn’t make us friends.”
“I know.”
She wiped her face.
“Three weeks ago, he asked me to sign a lease.”
My stomach tightened.
“For what?”
“A condo downtown.”
“Why?”
“He said we needed somewhere temporary after you left the house.”
Rachel asked, “Whose name is on the lease?”
“Mine.”
“Who paid the deposit?”
“Michael transferred the money.”
“From where?”
“I don’t know.”
Of course.
Natalie reached into her purse.
Her attorney had apparently told her not to hand anything over, because she stopped halfway.
“I’ll send it through my lawyer.”
“Send what?”
“The wire confirmation.”
Rachel nodded.
“Good.”
Natalie looked at me again.
“There’s something else.”
My body tensed automatically.
“Michael told me he had proof you were having an affair.”
I stared at her.
“What?”
“He said you were sleeping with someone from work.”
I almost laughed.
“I’m not.”
“I know that now.”
“How?”
“Because the man he showed me…”
She hesitated.
“What man?”
“He showed me a photograph of you hugging someone outside a restaurant.”
My mind raced.
Then I remembered.
“Daniel.”
Rachel looked at me.
“Who is Daniel?”
“My cousin.”
Natalie closed her eyes.
“I figured that out tonight. I searched him online.”
Michael had turned a photograph of me hugging my cousin into evidence of adultery.
Why?
To justify his affair to Natalie?
To poison Sophie against me?
To build leverage in court?
Probably all three.
Natalie looked humiliated.
“He said you had been cheating for a year.”
I stared at her.
“And you believed him.”
“Yes.”
“You never wondered why he was still living with me?”
“He said you were staying together for Sophie.”
I shook my head.
The cruelty of his lies was almost impressive.
He had built different versions of reality for everyone.
To me, he was a busy husband.
To Natalie, he was a trapped man waiting for freedom.
To Patricia, he was the victim of an inadequate wife.
To his family, he was successful and loyal.
And to himself?
Apparently he was entitled to everything.
The wife.
The mistress.
The house.
The money.
The child.
No consequences.
Natalie left.
I stood in the doorway watching her SUV disappear.
Rachel came beside me.
“You need somewhere else tonight.”
“I’m going to Laura’s.”
“We’ll have police drive you.”
I nodded.
Before leaving, I went upstairs to Sophie’s room.
Her stuffed giraffe was under the blanket.
I picked it up.
That was when I noticed her school tablet on the desk.
The screen lit up when I touched it.
A message notification appeared.
It wasn’t from her school.
It was from Michael.
Sent ten minutes earlier.
My heart stopped.
He had been released.
The message said:
Daddy needs you to do something very important.
Do not tell Mommy.
Call Grandma Patricia.
I stared at the screen.
Then another message arrived.
If Mommy asks, delete this.
I walked downstairs holding the tablet.
Rachel took one look at my face.
“What happened?”
I handed it to her.
She read the messages.
Her expression turned ice cold.
“Save screenshots.”
“I already did.”
“Good.”
My phone started ringing.
Michael.
I declined it.
He called again.
Declined.
A third time.
Then a voicemail notification appeared.
Rachel said, “Don’t listen until we can preserve it properly.”
I nodded.
Then a text arrived.
You’re making this uglier than it has to be.
Another.
We can still fix this.
Then another.
If you try to keep Sophie from me, I’ll make sure everyone knows what kind of mother you really are.
I read it twice.
The fear I had felt earlier disappeared.
In its place came something harder.
Something cleaner.
Resolve.
I looked at Rachel.
“He wants a custody fight?”
She nodded slowly.
“It looks that way.”
I stared at Michael’s threat.
May you like
Then I looked toward the hidden camera still taped inside an evidence bag.
“Then he picked the wrong woman to threaten.”
