Chapter 6 - The Video in the Green Toolbox
The video was seventeen years old.
The picture shook because whoever had recorded it was hiding the camera.
Diane stood in a kitchen I recognized from old family photographs. Younger. Darker hair. Same sharp mouth.
Frank's voice came from behind the camera.
"Say it again."
Diane laughed.
"Turn that thing off."
"Say what you told me."
"Frank, you're being ridiculous."
"Did you push Anna?"
My hand flew to my mouth.
On the screen, Diane stopped smiling.
"She pulled away from me."
"Did you push her?"
"I grabbed her. She slipped."
"You told the police you never touched her."
Diane stepped closer to the camera.
"And you're going to keep saying that."
"No."
Her face changed.
"Excuse me?"
"I'm done lying."
The video ended.
Officer Patel stared at the laptop.
"Play it again."
We did.
Same words.
Same threat.
But the file metadata showed something else.
The video had been copied onto the flash drive nine years ago.
Three days before Frank supposedly abandoned the family.
I looked at Patel.
"He was preparing to expose her."
"Possibly."
"Then he vanished."
"Megan, don't jump ahead."
"I'm not jumping. I'm looking at the road."
The garage door suddenly rattled.
We all turned.
Headlights swept beneath it.
Ryan's truck.
Officer Patel stood.
"Stay behind me."
The door rose.
Ryan stepped out of his truck and froze when he saw two officers in our garage.
Then he saw the open toolbox.
His face lost all color.
"What did you do?"
I held up the flash drive.
"I found your family history."
He took one step toward me.
Patel moved between us.
"Stop there."
Ryan did.
His eyes never left mine.
"That wasn't yours to open."
"It was in our house."
"You don't understand what you're playing with."
"Then explain it."
His mouth tightened.
"Dad made copies of everything. He became obsessed."
"Obsessed with the fact your mother killed Anna?"
Ryan's eyes flashed.
"She didn't kill her."
"You saw the push."
Silence.
"The note says you saw it."
He looked at the clipping.
Then at the flash drive.
Finally he whispered, "I was ten."
"You were thirty when Ethan was hurt."
That landed.
He looked down.
Officer Patel asked, "Where is Frank?"
Ryan's head jerked up.
"Dead."
Every sound in the garage disappeared.
"You told me he left," I said.
"Because that's what Mom wanted people to believe."
"How did he die?"
Ryan looked at the officers.
Then at me.
"I don't know."
"You just said he's dead."
"Because Mom told us."
My phone buzzed in my hand.
A new message from Frank.
I AM NOT DEAD.
Then another.
RYAN KNOWS THAT.
Ryan saw the name on my screen.
His expression changed.
Not surprise.
Recognition.
"Megan," he said quietly, "you need to block that number."
"Why?"
He looked toward the dark street beyond the garage.
"Because if that's really my father, he didn't disappear to save us."
Ryan swallowed.
"He disappeared because he was afraid of what I saw him do next."
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