Chapter 6 - THE CAMERA
The police returned the next morning.
Detective Lena Ross introduced herself and asked whether I felt strong enough to talk.
Angela sat beside me.
I agreed.
Detective Ross placed a small recorder on the table.
“Tell me exactly what happened before your family left.”
I did.
I told her about the contractions.
I told her about Deborah blocking the hallway.
I told her about the mall.
I told her Travis shook my hand away.
I told her Harold said I could wait.
I told her Travis ordered me not to move.
The detective listened without interrupting.
When I finished, she asked one question.
“Were you physically prevented from leaving?”
“The car was gone.”
“Could you have called an ambulance immediately?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you?”
I looked down.
That question hurt.
“Because my husband had spent years telling me I overreacted.”
Detective Ross waited.
I continued.
“Every time I was worried during the pregnancy, Deborah said I was dramatic.”
“Travis said stress was bad for the babies.”
“He said I needed to stop creating problems.”
“So when they left, part of me still wondered if they were right.”
My voice broke.
“I was afraid of looking stupid.”
Detective Ross nodded slowly.
“That’s important.”
Then she showed me something.
Our security system automatically stored clips whenever the front door opened.
The camera inside the hallway had audio.
I had forgotten it existed.
The first clip showed Deborah standing near the door.
My face was visible in the background.
I was bent over the kitchen counter.
My own voice came through the recording.
“Travis, please.”
“The contractions are less than four minutes apart.”
Then Deborah laughed.
“She’ll still be pregnant when we get back.”
Harold answered.
“Exactly.”
Travis looked toward me.
For one second, his face seemed uncertain.
Then Deborah held out her car keys.
“Are you coming or not?”
Travis walked toward her.
I called his name.
He turned.
“Don’t you dare move until I come back.”
The video ended.
I stared at the frozen screen.
Detective Ross did not say anything.
She did not have to.
It was all there.
My pain.
My request.
Their decision.
Then she opened a second clip.
This one had been recorded thirty seconds later.
Deborah was laughing on the porch.
Harold asked Travis whether I might actually call 911.
Travis’s answer made my blood run cold.
“She won’t.”
“Claire hates causing scenes.”
May you like
Detective Ross closed the laptop.
“That changes some things.”
