Chapter 2 - The Second Recording
Rebecca carefully cut the leather strap from my wrist.
The device was smaller than my thumb.
A deputy held it inside an evidence bag beneath the porch light.
“What is it?”
The younger officer leaned closer.
“Looks like some kind of tracker.”
Daniel stopped struggling.
That reaction told me more than any answer could have.
The deputy noticed too.
“You recognize this?”
Daniel looked away.
“No.”
Evelyn immediately spoke.
“It belongs to Claire.”
I stared at her.
“I’ve never seen it.”
“You wear strange things all the time.”
Even exhausted, I almost laughed.
Evelyn had always been terrible at lying when she was frightened.
Mara sank onto the porch steps.
Her hands covered her face.
The lead deputy turned toward her.
“Anything you want to tell me?”
Daniel shouted from across the yard.
“Don’t say anything.”
Mara lowered her hands.
For once, she did not obey him.
“My mother put it on her.”
Evelyn’s head snapped toward her daughter.
“You little traitor.”
“When?”
The deputy asked.
Mara pointed toward the hole.
“After Claire passed out yesterday.”
My stomach twisted.
I had lost pieces of time.
Long blank stretches I had assumed were exhaustion.
Apparently things had happened while I was unconscious.
“Why?”
Mara shook her head.
“I don’t know.”
Daniel laughed bitterly.
“Yes, you do.”
“Shut up.”
“You wanted the money too.”
The deputies exchanged looks.
Rebecca touched my shoulder.
“We need to get you to the hospital.”
They lifted me onto a stretcher.
The moment my legs were fully exposed, pain shot from my hips to my feet.
My left leg refused to move normally.
Rebecca covered me with blankets.
“Don’t try to stand.”
I didn’t argue.
As they wheeled me through the side gate, neighbors had gathered along the sidewalk.
Some wore pajamas.
Some held phones.
Mrs. Talbot from across the street covered her mouth when she saw me.
Our eyes met.
She started crying.
Daniel had spent months telling those neighbors I was emotional.
Unstable.
Difficult.
Now they were watching deputies escort him from the yard where his pregnant wife had been buried.
The ambulance doors closed.
Rebecca attached monitors.
Another paramedic checked the baby.
For several terrible seconds, the machine produced nothing but static.
I stopped breathing.
Then a rapid heartbeat filled the ambulance.
Fast.
Steady.
Alive.
I began sobbing.
Rebecca squeezed my hand.
“There you go.”
“That’s your baby.”
I pressed both hands over my stomach.
“I’m sorry.”
Rebecca shook her head.
“Save your strength.”
At the hospital, doctors rushed me into maternity triage.
Dehydration.
Muscle damage.
Exposure.
Possible nerve compression.
They said the baby was under stress but still stable.
I stayed awake until a nurse told me a detective had arrived.
Her name was Detective Elena Ruiz.
She sat beside my bed without opening her notebook immediately.
“Claire, I know you’re exhausted.”
“But there’s something you need to see.”
She placed a photograph on the table.
It showed the small black device.
“We accessed its internal storage.”
I stared at her.
“It recorded audio?”
“And location data.”
She paused.
“Your husband apparently used it to track your movements.”
My throat tightened.
“For how long?”
“At least seven months.”
Seven months.
Before I became pregnant.
Before the burial.
Before I even realized something was wrong.
Ruiz continued.
“There’s more.”
She opened her tablet.
“We found saved audio files.”
“Some were recorded inside your house.”
My hands went cold.
“Which rooms?”
“Bedroom.”
“Kitchen.”
“Your car.”
“And what appears to be your doctor’s office.”
I looked toward my stomach.
Daniel had known every conversation.
Every appointment.
Every private fear.
Detective Ruiz watched me carefully.
“Claire, this wasn’t punishment that suddenly got out of control.”
She turned the tablet toward me.
A folder appeared on the screen.
Its title contained only three words.
PROJECT QUIET WIFE.
“There are recordings dating back almost a year.”
May you like
Ruiz lowered her voice.
“We think they were planning something long before they put you in that ground.”
