Chapter 4: The Statement

I drove back to the warehouse with my hands tight on the wheel.

By the time I turned in at the loading dock, the crew had doubled.

Two vans, three cameras, a woman with a microphone in a red coat.

Brooks stood in front of them with his head bowed and Sierra holding his arm.

My father stood in the doorway of the office with his arms crossed.

I parked and got out.

Every lens swung toward me.

"Sylvie," Brooks said, in the soft voice he used for donors. "Thank God. We've been so worried."

"She's been under a lot of stress," Sierra told the cameras. "We just want her to rest."

I walked right up to the microphones.

"I'm not unwell," I said.

The woman in the red coat held her microphone out.

"Ms. Tarrant, the video suggests you were obsessed with the Kingsbury money."

"The video is eighty seconds long."

"The recording it came from is forty minutes."

"Brooks recorded me in his own kitchen without telling me. Then Sierra Tremaine cut it down to the part where I looked angriest, and added music."

Sierra's hand tightened on his sleeve.

"How do you know it was Sierra?" the reporter asked.

"Because she posted a photo of the project file," I said. "It's called Nell_final_v6. She edited it six times."

Somebody behind the cameras let out a low whistle.

Sierra's face stayed warm and concerned.

It was only her fingers that went white against Brooks's arm.

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