There were two small buttons along one edge.
A tiny microphone opening.
A USB port.
No brand visible.
I did not press anything.
I did not want to accidentally erase whatever was on it.
Instead, I took several photographs.
Front.
Back.
The blinking light.
The plastic wrapping.
The destroyed cake.
Greg noticed.
“Why are you taking pictures?”
“Because I want a record of what I found.”
“For God’s sake.”
Barbara said.
“You make everything sound sinister.”
“Then tell me what it is.”
Neither of them did.
That silence answered more than either realized.
The doorbell rang.
Everyone jumped.
It was only 10:22.
Guests were not supposed to arrive until eleven-thirty.
I checked the camera app.
Rachel.
She stood on the porch.
Her car was parked across the street.
I opened the front door.
Rachel looked at my face.
Then my shoulder.
Then past me toward Greg.
“What happened?”
I held up the recorder.
“This was inside Leo’s cake.”
Rachel frowned.
“What?”
“Max knocked it down.”
“It was buried in the middle.”
Behind me, Greg said:
“It’s probably nothing.”
Rachel looked directly at him.
“Then why does Sarah look terrified?”
Nobody answered.
Rachel stepped inside.
Greg moved toward us.
“I don’t want this getting turned into some ridiculous family drama.”
Rachel stared.
“You shoved my sister?”
“She tripped.”
I looked at him.
“No.”
Greg’s eyes snapped toward me.
I said it again.
“I did not trip.”
Barbara groaned.
“Sarah.”
“No.”
I said.
“He shoved me.”
The room went very still.
It was the first time I had said something like that plainly.
No softening.
No context.
No “we were both stressed.”
No “it wasn’t that bad.”
He shoved me.
Rachel’s face changed.
“Leo?”
“He’s okay.”
“The dog?”
“Outside.”
“In this heat?”
“Greg put him there.”
Rachel walked toward the sliding door.
Greg stepped sideways.
“Stay out of this.”
Rachel stopped.
She was five foot four.
Greg was six foot one.
She still looked at him like he was something she could move if necessary.
“Open the door.”
She said.
“No.”
Rachel took out her phone.
“Then I’m calling the police.”
Greg laughed.
“You’re calling police because a dog is outside?”
“No.”
Rachel replied.
“I’m calling because my sister says you put your hands on her and now you’re physically stopping her from moving through her own house.”
That did it.
Greg unlocked the slider.
Max rushed inside.
He did not run toward the cake.
He came straight to me.
Pressed his body against my legs.
Then sat.
Panting heavily.
His fur felt hot.
I crouched and wrapped one arm around his neck.
“I’m sorry.”
I whispered.