Chapter 7: The Recording
I didn't look at the fruit bowl.
Not while they were in the room.
I stood up, told Gerald and Natalie that my lawyer would be in touch, and walked them to the door.
Gerald tried once more to extend the conversation.
I closed the door before he finished his sentence.
Then I went to the kitchen.
The fruit bowl sat on the counter where it always had — ceramic, blue and white, a wedding gift from someone whose name I no longer remembered.
Three oranges and an apple.
Nothing unusual.
I moved the oranges.
Underneath, wedged against the inside curve of the bowl, was a small black device.
Rectangular.
About the size of a thumb drive.
A tiny red indicator light that was no longer blinking.
She had placed it there before I came home.
Before I walked through the door with my key and found her in the kitchen.
The device had been running the entire time — through the confrontation with Derek, through the bank statements on the counter, through everything I had said.
I set it on the counter and called my lawyer.
"She recorded the kitchen conversation," I said.
"I have the device."
"Don't touch it further.
Don't play it back.
Don't destroy it." His voice was calm, precise.
"What did you say in that conversation?"
"I confronted her about the account.
About the lawyer.
I told her I'd already spoken to you."
"Did you make any threats?"
"No."
"Raise your voice?"
"No."
"Good." A pause.
"She was hoping for something she could use in the custody filing.
Anger, intimidation, anything that paints you as volatile." Another pause.
"The recording may actually help you.
If you were calm and she was evasive, that's on tape now."
"Can we use it?"
"Depends on the state's consent laws.
One-party or two-party.
I'll check.
Either way, the existence of the device tells us something important."
"That she planned this down to the kitchen counter," I said.
"That she was afraid of you coming home," he said.
"And not because of anything you'd done.
Because of what you might find out."
I looked at the device on the counter.
"There's something else," I said.
"Someone's been texting me.
Unknown number.
They told me about the recording.
They told me Gerald was coming before he arrived."
"Someone inside her circle," my lawyer said.
"Someone who knows what she's been doing and isn't comfortable with it."
"Or someone who wants leverage of their own."
"Possibly both.
Don't respond to the number yet.
Let me make some inquiries."
I hung up and stood in the kitchen for a moment.
Then I called Emily.
She picked up on the second ring.
"Dad.
Is everything okay?"
"Everything is under control.
I need to ask you something and I need you to be honest with me."
"Always."
"Did you know about the recording device in the fruit bowl?"
A silence.
"Emily."
"I saw her put something in there two weeks ago," she said quietly.
"I didn't know what it was.
I thought maybe it was — I don't know what I thought.
I should have told you."
"You didn't know what you were looking at.
That's not on you."
"Dad." Her voice dropped.
"She's been doing this for a long time.
Planning.
Preparing.
I've watched her on the phone with Grandpa Gerald for months.
They'd go quiet when I came in the room." A pause.
"I think they thought I was too young to notice."
"You notice everything," I said.
"Is she going to try to take us away from you?"
I closed my eyes for one second.
"She's going to try," I said.
"But I'm not going to let that happen.
And I need you to do one thing for me."
"What?"
"Be a kid.
Go to school.
Do your homework.
Let the adults handle this part.
Can you do that?"
A long pause.
"I'll try," she said.
"That's enough."
After I hung up, I walked through the house slowly.
I looked at the living room where Gerald had sat with his hands folded like he was conducting a business meeting.
I looked at the hallway where Emily had appeared with her school bag.
I looked at Evan's bedroom door, still half open, a sneaker visible just inside the frame.
Then I went to my home office and opened my laptop.
I had one more thing to check.
The unknown number had known about the recording.
Had known about Gerald.
Whoever it was had access to information that only someone close to Natalie would have.
I pulled up the transfer records again.
I looked at the name on the condo's parking registration.
And I picked up my phone and dialed.
It rang three times.
May you like
Then a woman's voice answered.
"I was wondering when you'd call," she said.
