Chapter 2: The Red Light Was Still Blinking
It was a recorder.
A small, cheap digital voice recorder — the kind you'd find in a school supply aisle.
The red light was still blinking.
My hands were shaking as I pressed play.
Ben's voice came through the tiny speaker, quiet and careful, like he was trying not to be heard.
*"This is for Grandma.
In case something happens."*
Then Tara's voice — sharp and low, clearly not knowing she was being recorded.
*"If you tell her anything, I will make sure you never see her again.
Do you understand me?
Not one word."*
Silence.
Then the small, broken sound of a nine-year-old boy trying not to cry.
I sat there on that bare mattress and couldn't move.
All summer, Ben had carried that backpack everywhere.
Every room.
Every meal.
He wasn't protecting a toy.
He was protecting this.
I called Adam immediately.
It rang four times and went to voicemail.
I called again.
Voicemail.
Then a text came through from Tara's number.
It said: *"He was just being dramatic.
Kids make things up.
Don't read into it."*
She knew.
She already knew I had found it.
I looked at the recorder in my hand, then back at my phone.
And then I noticed something I had missed — there was a second recording.
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What's on that second recording — and how did Tara know so fast?
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