Chapter 4 - What Lily Heard
The paramedics examined Lily in the kitchen.
I stayed beside her the entire time.
She refused to release my hand.
Every time footsteps crossed the hallway, she turned toward the sound.
The bruises were worse than I first realized.
Some were recent.
Others were nearly healed.
There were marks around one wrist.
A small cut behind her ear.
A burn-shaped circle on her shoulder that made the paramedic’s expression change.
He did not speculate.
He did not need to.
“We need the hospital,” he said.
I nodded.
Santos entered quietly.
“We found cameras.”
Grant had always hated security cameras inside the house.
He said home should feel private.
Apparently his beliefs had changed while I was gone.
“Where?”
“Living room.”
“Kitchen.”
“Hallway.”
“Lily’s bedroom.”
My hand tightened.
“Her bedroom?”
Santos nodded.
“Hidden.”
I looked through the doorway.
Grant was sitting beneath police supervision in the living room.
Vanessa sat across from him.
They were no longer touching.
“What kind of cameras?”
“Consumer-grade wireless.”
“Cloud storage?”
“We’re checking.”
I looked down at Lily.
She was watching me.
“Sweetheart.”
She blinked.
“Did Daddy put cameras in your room?”
Lily slowly nodded.
“Why?”
“He said because I lied.”
“About what?”
Her eyes moved toward the doorway.
I turned to Santos.
“Can we close that?”
Santos shut the kitchen door.
Lily leaned closer.
“I told Daddy Vanessa hurt me.”
My throat tightened.
“What happened?”
“He said she was teaching me.”
“Teaching you what?”
“To stop crying.”
She rubbed her thumb across my palm.
“Then he made videos.”
Santos and I exchanged a glance.
“What videos?”
Lily whispered.
“He made me say Vanessa was nice.”
My vision narrowed.
“What else?”
“He made me say you left because you didn’t want me.”
I closed my eyes for one second.
Only one.
Because if I allowed myself longer, I might break.
Lily continued.
“He said if I said it good, I could have dinner.”
Santos quietly stepped away.
She made a call.
The paramedic stared at the floor.
Then Lily said something that changed the direction of everything.
“Daddy talks to the black machine at night.”
“The recorder?”
She nodded.
“What does he say?”
“I don’t know.”
“He gets mad.”
Her eyes became distant.
“Sometimes he says numbers.”
“What numbers?”
“Money numbers.”
Santos returned.
Her face had hardened.
“Evelyn.”
I looked at her.
“The recorder isn’t just about Lily.”
My pulse slowed.
“What is it?”
“Your husband may have recorded himself discussing your federal assignment.”
I stared at her.
“That information was classified.”
“I know.”
Santos looked toward the living room.
May you like
“And if he had access to it, we’re no longer dealing with only child abuse.”
For the first time, I wondered whether my operation had been compromised from inside my own home.
