Chapter 12: The Recording

Pierce sat on the edge of the sofa with a mug of tea he did not drink.

His knees were bouncing.

"Whatever you say to me," I told him, "you say in front of him."

"Eden, I need to say it alone."

"He's my husband. He stays."

Pierce looked at Cormick, who stood by the cold fireplace with his arms folded, and said nothing.

Then he reached into the front of his hoodie.

He took out a dark green binder with a brass clasp, bent at one corner.

For a moment I could not speak.

"You said you never saw it," I said.

"I lied," he said.

His voice shook.

"I took it out of the trunk two weeks ago, before Colette sent it.

"I just knew you'd want it."

I held the binder against my chest.

It smelled of cedar and old paper. It smelled like my mother.

"What else?" said Cormick.

Pierce wiped his face on his sleeve.

He took out his phone, thumbed the screen, and set it on the coffee table.

"I recorded this in September," he said.

"In Dad's study. They didn't know I was in the window seat.

"I fell asleep there, and I woke up when they came in."

He pressed play.

There was a click, and the sound of a door. Then Colette's voice, warm and low and perfectly calm.

"She'll never say yes if I ask her. She has to think she's saving me."

I went cold from my scalp to my feet.

"And if she refuses?" That was Russell.

"She won't. I'll cry. I always cry, and she always comes running."

"Dad wants to wait for Eden's twenty-fifth. He says the law is on his side if there's any trouble."

"The law is on Dad's side if there's no trouble.

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