She said.
I wanted to disagree.
I could not.
Greg called forty-seven times that day.
I did not answer.
His messages moved through stages.
First anger.
“You humiliated me.”
“You took my son.”
“You’re being ridiculous.”
Then concern.
“Sarah, I’m worried about you.”
“This isn’t normal.”
“You need to calm down.”
Then affection.
“I love you.”
“We can fix this.”
“Come home.”
Then accusation.
“Rachel is manipulating you.”
“You are keeping Leo from his father.”
Then legal language.
“I am documenting everything.”
That final message terrified me more than all the others.
At 9:14 that night, Greg sent:
“I’ve spoken with someone.”
“You cannot just remove a child from his home because you’re emotional.”
I forwarded every message to Dana.
Her reply was short.
“Do not argue by text.”
“Keep Leo safe.”
“We speak tomorrow.”
I barely slept.
Max did not either.
Rachel let him stay in her laundry room because her cat hated dogs.
At 2:30 in the morning, I found him lying across the doorway of the guest room where Leo and I slept.
He had somehow nudged the laundry door open.
I sat beside him.
“I blamed you.”
I whispered.
His blue eyes looked up at me.
“You ruined the cake.”
I scratched beneath his chin.
“And you might be the only one who noticed something was wrong.”
He put one paw across my leg.
That broke me again.
The next morning, Dana arranged for the recorder to be imaged by a digital-forensics specialist who regularly handled civil cases.
His name was Thomas Reed.
He worked from a small office filled with labeled evidence lockers and more cables than I had seen outside an electronics store.
He photographed the device.
Recorded its condition.
Copied the storage contents without changing the original files.
Then sealed the recorder.
“There are audio files.”
He said.
“How many?”
“Thirty-seven.”
My heart began pounding.
“How long?”
“Varies.”
“Some minutes.”
“Some several hours.”
“What dates?”
Thomas looked at the metadata.
“Most are recent.”
“Last six weeks.”
My mouth went dry.
“This wasn’t just turned on for the party?”
“No.”
That changed everything.
Thomas created a working copy for Dana.
We did not listen in his office.
I am grateful for that.
I do not think I could have heard the first recording in front of a stranger.
Dana listened before I did.
She called me afterward.
Her voice was different.
“Sarah.”
“What?”
“You need to come to my office.”
“Why?”
“I don’t want to discuss this by phone.”
“Is Leo in danger?”
“Not immediate physical danger based on what I’ve heard.”
“Then tell me.”
“I want you here.”
Rachel drove me.
Dana’s office was twenty minutes away.
I remember almost none of the drive.
When we arrived, Dana closed the conference-room door.
She placed a laptop between us.
“There are recordings that appear to come from inside your home.”
She said.
“How?”
“We don’t know yet.”
“The recorder you found may have been moved around.”
“There may also have been more than one device.”
My skin went cold.
“More?”
“Listen first.”
She clicked play.
Greg’s voice filled the room.
Not angry.
Calm.