Chapter 3 - The Camera Patricia ForgotBy eight-thirty that morning, Officer Torres was back at the hospital.
Denise arrived twenty minutes later wearing jeans, a gray sweater, and the expression of someone who had spent the entire drive changing her mind about coming.
Patricia had employed her for nearly seven years.
That mattered.
Fear has roots when a person has controlled your paycheck long enough.
"I don't want trouble," Denise said.
Officer Torres pulled a chair out for her.
"Then tell the truth. Trouble belongs to whoever created it."
Denise glanced at me.
"I'm sorry."
"For what?"
"I should have said something last week."
"You didn't know Emma was hurt."
"I knew Patricia wasn't right with that baby."
Daniel flinched.
He had barely spoken since hearing about the healing rib fracture.
Denise clasped her hands together.
"Mrs. Hale has always had cameras. She says it's because of insurance and theft."
"Where?" Torres asked.
"Kitchen. Family room. Upstairs hallway. Nursery whenever guests stay. Her office."
Daniel shook his head.
"I've never seen cameras upstairs."
"They're small."
"How do you know about them?"
"Because I clean around them."
Torres leaned forward.
"Are they connected to local storage?"
"I don't know what that means."
"A recorder in the house?"
Denise nodded.
"There's a box in the basement utility closet. Mrs. Hale told me never to touch it."
Torres stood.
She immediately called someone.
Daniel whispered, "Mom knows they're there."
"Obviously."
"No, I mean—if she knows the cameras recorded what happened, she'll delete it."
Officer Torres heard him.
"We're working on that."
"How fast?"
"Fast."
The problem was that Patricia's house was private property.
The police needed legal authority to seize the recorder.
Denise's testimony, my injury, Patricia's messages, and Emma's medical findings gave them plenty to work with.
But warrants still required paperwork.
Judges.
Signatures.
Time.
And Patricia had already been home for nearly two hours.
I imagined her walking through the house erasing everything.
That thought made my entire body shake.
Daniel noticed.
"I'll call her."
Torres turned sharply.
"No."
"Why?"
"Because if evidence is being destroyed, I don't want anyone warning her that we know what we're looking for."
"My mother isn't stupid."
"No," Torres said. "That's apparent."
Daniel stared at the floor.
There was something almost humiliating about watching him realize what his mother might be capable of.
I should have felt sympathy.
Instead, I felt tired.
Dr. Morgan entered before anyone could say more.
"Emma's showing improvement."
Everything else disappeared.
"What kind?"
"She's breathing more effectively on her own. If that continues, we may be able to remove respiratory support later today."
I started crying again.
"That's good?"
"Very good."
Daniel squeezed my shoulder.
For once, I didn't pull away.
"Can we touch her?"
"Yes. Carefully."
We went back into Emma's room.
I placed my hand gently over her tiny belly.
"Mommy's here."
Her fingers twitched.
I gasped.
Dr. Morgan smiled.
"That's what we want."
I bent down until my forehead nearly touched the railing.
"You fight, baby girl. You fight."
Behind me, Daniel whispered the same thing.
For thirty minutes, we were not husband and wife with a collapsing marriage.
We were Emma's parents.
Nothing else existed.
Then Daniel's phone buzzed.
He looked at the screen.
"Mom."
I turned.
Officer Torres had told him not to contact her.
But Patricia could contact him.
"Don't answer."
He hesitated.
"Daniel."
He rejected the call.
It rang again immediately.
Then a text arrived.
His eyes moved across it.
"What does it say?"
"Nothing."
"Don't lie to me."
He handed me the phone.
Danny, I know you're frightened. Rachel is trying to destroy our family because she can't live with what she did. I love you enough to forgive you for believing her. Come home before this gets worse.
I almost laughed.
Even now, Patricia made herself the generous one.
She was forgiving Daniel.
For believing that I might not have thrown our newborn onto the floor.
Another message came.
The police searched the house. They found nothing because there is nothing to find.
I looked at Daniel.
"They searched already?"
He nodded.
Officer Torres returned ten minutes later.
The expression on her face told me before she spoke.
"The video recorder is gone."
My stomach dropped.
"Gone?"
"Utility closet is empty."
Denise stood.
"It was there Tuesday."
Torres nodded.
"We photographed the mounting brackets. Cabling is still attached."
"She destroyed it," I said.
"Possibly."
"Possibly?"
"We prove things. We don't assume them."
Daniel asked, "Did she let you search?"
"We executed a warrant."
"Where was she?"
"At the house."
"And she said?"
"She claimed the cameras haven't worked in more than a year."
Denise made a sound of disbelief.
"That's a lie."
"I know."
"How?"
Denise reached into her purse.
She pulled out her phone.
"Because three months ago she accused me of taking cash from her kitchen."
She unlocked the screen.
"She sent me this."
It was a screenshot.
Security camera footage.
Time and date stamped.
Denise standing beside the kitchen island.
Patricia had circled something near Denise's hand.
"She said I stole forty dollars," Denise said. "It turned out she'd put the money in another purse."
Officer Torres took the phone.
"Can you send this to me?"
"Yes."
Daniel looked nauseous.
Torres asked, "Any idea where she might keep backup recordings?"
Denise shook her head.
Then Daniel spoke.
"The lake house."
We all looked at him.
"What lake house?" Torres asked.
"My parents bought a cabin near Buckeye Lake years ago. Dad transferred it to Mom after the divorce."
"Why would the recordings be there?"
"I don't know if they are."
"Then why mention it?"
Daniel sat down.
"Because my mother backs up everything."
"What do you mean?"
"Photos. Tax records. Insurance papers. Family videos. She doesn't trust cloud storage because she thinks companies can lock her out. Dad used to joke that she maintained her own evidence bunker."
Torres's eyes sharpened.
"Physical hard drives?"
"Yes."
"At the lake house?"
"Some."
"Do you have access?"
Daniel shook his head.
"Not anymore."
"When did that change?"
"Three months ago."
I turned toward him.
"You never told me that."
"It didn't matter."
"Why did she revoke your access?"
His jaw tightened.
"Because I told her we were buying our own house instead of moving in with her permanently."
There it was.
A detail that suddenly rearranged everything.
"You told her that?"
"Of course."
"When?"
"Before Emma was born."
"And she was angry?"
"She said it was financially irresponsible."
"What else?"
"Rachel."
"What else, Daniel?"
He stared at me.
"She said you were isolating me from my family."
I felt something cold settle inside me.
That accusation had nothing to do with a house.
It was possession.
Officer Torres apparently heard the same thing.
"Did she express unusual interest in your daughter?"
Daniel laughed once without humor.
"She created a nursery before Rachel was six months pregnant."
I looked at him.
"That isn't unusual for an excited grandmother."
"No."
He swallowed.
"But buying a crib before we did was."
I remembered.
Patricia called it a gift.
Except the crib stayed at her house.
So did the changing table.
The stroller.
The infant bathtub.
The clothes.
Everything was prepared for a baby who supposedly wasn't going to live there.
Torres took notes.
"Did she ever say she wanted custody?"
"No."
Then Daniel stopped.
I saw it happen.
A memory.
"What?"
He rubbed his face.
"At the hospital after Emma was born."
"What happened?"
"Mom and I were in the cafeteria. She said you looked overwhelmed."
"So?"
"She said some women aren't built for motherhood."
My chest tightened.
"And?"
"I told her to stop."
"And?"
"She said if anything happened, Emma would always have her."
Officer Torres closed her notebook.
"I'll look into the cabin."
Daniel nodded.
By noon, Emma was breathing without the ventilator.
It felt like the first sunrise after the end of the world.
She opened her eyes briefly.
I was standing beside her.
"Hi," I whispered.
Her gaze wasn't focused.
She made a tiny, raspy sound.
I cried so hard a nurse brought me tissues.
Then Emma's fingers closed around mine.
That tiny grip became a promise.
Whatever happened next, I wasn't going back to Patricia's house.
Not for clothes.
Not for furniture.
Not for anything.
That afternoon CPS interviewed Daniel and me separately.
They asked about alcohol, drugs, arguments, depression, sleep deprivation, support systems.
They asked whether Daniel had ever hurt me.
No.
Whether I had ever hurt Emma.
No.
Whether Patricia had regular unsupervised contact.
Once.
I hated that answer.
One time had been enough.
Afterward, Daniel sat next to me in the family lounge.
"We can't go back there."
I looked at him.
"No."
"Our house closing is still at least two weeks away."
"I'll stay with my sister."
"In Denver?"
"If necessary."
His eyes widened.
"You'd take Emma out of state?"
"When she's medically cleared. Yes."
"I'm her father."
"Then come with us."
He stared at me.
"I have a job here."
"And I have a daughter who almost died in your mother's hallway."
"Rachel, I'm not arguing."
"It sounds like you are."
He leaned forward.
"I believe you."
I said nothing.
"I need you to hear that."
"You didn't last night."
"I know."
"Why?"
He closed his eyes.
"Because believing you meant accepting that my mother did something monstrous."
"And not believing me meant what?"
He looked at me.
I waited.
Finally, he whispered, "That you did."
That truth sat between us.
"I can't forget that."
"I know."
"Maybe I can forgive it someday."
He nodded.
"I know."
My phone rang.
Officer Torres.
I answered immediately.
"Hello?"
"Rachel, we located the lake house."
"And?"
"No one was there."
My heart sank.
"But we found something else."
"What?"
"A neighbor has exterior security footage."
I stood.
"Of Patricia?"
"Yes."
"When?"
"This morning."
Daniel rose too.
"What was she doing?"
Officer Torres paused.
"Carrying several electronic devices from her SUV into the cabin."
I covered my mouth.
"Did you search it?"
"We're obtaining the warrant now."
"How long?"
"Hopefully not long."
Then her voice changed.
"Rachel, there's something else I need to warn you about."
"What?"
"Patricia hired an attorney."
"Okay."
"Her attorney contacted investigators with an allegation."
My stomach twisted.
"What allegation?"
"Patricia claims she has proof that you've been suffering from severe postpartum instability."
For a second, I couldn't speak.
"What proof?"
"Text messages. Statements. Videos."
"Videos?"
"That's what they're claiming."
Daniel's face went white.
Torres continued.
"She isn't just trying to defend herself anymore."
I looked through the glass at Emma sleeping beneath a warmed blanket.
"What is she trying to do?"
"Establish that you're an unsafe mother."
I already knew the answer before I asked.
"Why?"
May you like
Officer Torres's voice was quiet.
"Because she's petitioning the court for emergency temporary custody of Emma."
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