Chapter 12: The Recording

I opened the door myself.

Rain blew across the porch and wet the hem of Eli's shirt on my body.

Camille pushed past me into the hall, dripping on my father's floor.

She looked at the shirt, at Eli on the stairs with his chest bare, and gave a short ugly laugh.

"Well. That was quick."

"What do you want?" I asked.

"I want a deal."

"I told you to find yourself a lawyer."

"I'm not talking to the police." Her hands were shaking so hard the phone rattled in them. "Listen first. Then say no."

She held it out.

Eli took it from her before I could, and thumbed the screen.

A video began to play.

It was shot from a high corner, and it showed a small private room I knew.

The family room at the funeral home.

My own back, in a black dress, bent over a table.

A pen in my hand, and Bryce's lawyer, close behind me, saying, "Just here, and here, Mrs. Danner."

I looked ten years older than I was, and I had not slept in a week.

"Mrs. Danner, is that correct?" the lawyer's voice asked, and my own voice answered, small and cracked, "Yes, whatever you need."

The video went on.

I signed.

I signed again, on the third page.

Then I turned my head toward the camera, and my eyes were red, and I said something that I had no memory of saying.

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