Chương 7
“She didn’t start as a monster,” I said.
Ortiz said nothing.
“She started useful.”
That was worse.
Marlene had always known how to make herself necessary.
When my nausea got bad, she began sleeping over.
When I fainted, she took over meals.
When Daniel panicked, she took over him.
She organized medication bottles, appointment cards, groceries, laundry.
She placed herself between every problem and every solution.
By the time I noticed she was controlling access to everything, control already looked like care from a distance.
“She kept saying Daniel couldn’t handle stress,” I said.
“Was that true?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“He shuts down.”
I almost laughed.
“He used to.”
Ortiz waited.
“When bills piled up, he ignored them until I paid them.”
I rubbed my thumb against the edge of the blanket.
“When his father died, he didn’t plan the funeral.”
“Marlene did?”
“She planned everything.”
“Did he resent her for that?”
“Yes.”
“Did he rely on her?”
“Yes.”
Both answers sat there together.
That was Daniel.
Resentment and dependence.
He spent years complaining that his mother interfered in his life while calling her whenever life became difficult.
When my pregnancy became difficult, he called her too.
“And the channel?” Ortiz asked.
I looked at Marcus.
He was still working on the phone.
The progress bar seemed frozen.
“I don’t know when that started.”
“You knew they were recording.”
“Eventually.”
“Not at first?”
I shook my head.
“The first time I noticed, Daniel had the phone propped behind a box.”
“What happened when you confronted him?”
“He said he was documenting my behavior.”
“What behavior?”
“Refusing food.”
“Were you refusing food?”
“I was vomiting.”
Ortiz’s mouth tightened.
“He said doctors needed to see how uncooperative I was.”
“Did he show the recordings to doctors?”
“Not that I know.”
“When did you learn about the channel?”
“Later.”
“How?”
I stared at the floor.
That memory had no smell attached to it.
No dramatic sound.
Just Daniel forgetting to lock his phone once after filming.
I had been too weak to stand.
He left it beside me while he went downstairs.
The screen lit with notifications.
Comments.
Usernames.
Payment amounts.
A thumbnail of my own face.
My mouth open around the tube.
I had thought for several seconds that I was hallucinating.
“I saw comments.”
“What kind?”
“People asking for more.”
Ortiz’s pen stopped.
“More what?”
“More humiliation.”
The word scraped my throat.
“Vomiting.”
I swallowed.
“Crying.”
I looked toward the fetal monitor because it was easier than looking at her.
“Some wanted him to make me beg.”
Ortiz waited before asking the next question.
“Were people paying?”
“Yes.”
“How do you know?”
“There were amounts beside some messages.”
“Did Daniel mention money?”
“Sometimes.”
“What did he say?”
My mind found his voice immediately.
This one did numbers.
This one paid for the whole week.
Don’t ruin it.
“He called certain sessions requests.”
Ortiz wrote that down.
“Specific requests from viewers?”
“I think so.”
“What kind?”
I closed my eyes.
“Sometimes they wanted certain food.”
The spoiled milk.
The greasy leftovers.
Something sweet enough to make nausea worse.
“Sometimes they wanted him to say things.”
“What things?”
“About the baby.”
Ortiz stopped writing.
I did not want to continue.
Dr. Feld looked up now.
Even Marcus had gone still.
I felt all of them listening.
“They wanted him to ask whether I deserved to be a mother.”
My voice had become almost flat.
“One person kept asking him to tell me the baby would hate me.”
Ortiz put down the pen.
“Rachel, we can stop.”
“No.”
“You don’t have to give everything tonight.”
“No.”
I looked at her.
“If I stop, I’m scared I won’t start again.”
She nodded once.
“Then we go at your pace.”
I breathed through another tightening in my abdomen.
Dr. Feld checked the monitor.
“That one was stronger.”
“Am I in labor?”
“Not necessarily.”
I laughed bitterly.
“Everybody loves that answer.”
She almost smiled.
“I know.”
Marcus finally turned the laptop toward Ortiz.
“I’ve got the device imaged.”
My heart jumped.
“All of it?”
“The accessible data, yes.”
“Recordings?”
He looked at me.
“There are forty-six audio-video files in the folder you described.”
Forty-six.
More than I remembered.
The number made me dizzy.
“Are they intact?”
“Preliminarily, yes.”
I covered my eyes.
For months, forty-six recordings had been a secret.
Now they existed in two places.
I lowered my hands.
“Make another copy.”
Marcus looked at Ortiz.
She nodded.
“We will.”
“Somewhere Daniel can’t reach.”
“Yes.”
“Somewhere his mother can’t reach.”
“Yes.”
“Somewhere I can’t accidentally lose.”
“Yes.”
The repetition calmed me.
Marcus began the second transfer.
Ortiz’s phone buzzed.
She read the message and stood so quickly the chair scraped backward.
“What?”
She looked at Marcus first.
“Keep that device offline.”
Then she turned to me.
“The search team found a laptop in Daniel’s office.”
I waited.
“There are folders labeled by date.”
My skin went cold.
“How many?”
“They’re still counting.”
“From the attic?”
“Some appear to match the time period.”
“Some?”
Ortiz hesitated.
“There are older folders.”
I stared at her.
“Older than what?”
“Older than your pregnancy.”
The room seemed to contract around us.
“That’s impossible.”
Ortiz did not answer.
“Older how?”
“Years.”
My mouth went dry.
“No.”
“We don’t know what’s in them yet.”
“No.”
The word came louder.
Daniel had never mentioned filming anyone before me.
He had never hinted at a channel.
He had never seemed capable of planning something like this before Marlene took over.
That belief had been one of the last things I still carried from the marriage.
I looked at the charging phone on Marcus’s table.
Then at Ortiz.
“Whose names are on the folders?”
She did not answer immediately.
That was enough.
“There are names?”
“Yes.”
“Mine?”
“One has your name.”
“And the others?”
“Rachel.”
“Tell me.”
Her expression changed.
Not pity.
Something worse.
Professional caution.
“There are three other women’s first names.”
For several seconds, I heard nothing except the fetal monitor.
May you like
Three names.
Three women.
