Another read:
If she calls anyone, tell them she is confused.
I set the notebook down.
Marissa sat across from me.
“I should have destroyed it.”
“No. You should have brought it to me.”
“I know.”
“Why did you bring it now?”
“Because I realized I was still trying to survive him instead of telling the truth about him.”
The words were quiet.
They carried more weight than any courtroom statement.
I leaned back.
“Are you afraid he will blame you?”
“Yes.”
“He will.”
“I know.”
“Are you afraid you will believe him?”
She looked at the table.
“Yes.”
I understood that fear. Daniel had spent years teaching both of us to question our own memory.
I reached into the drawer and took out the old recording device Robert used for dictating letters.
“Listen to this.”
Robert’s voice filled the kitchen again.
Marissa did not move.
When the recording ended, she pressed both palms flat against the table.
“He knew.”
“He knew Daniel was dangerous.”
“And he knew I was staying.”
“He knew you were making choices under pressure.”
Marissa looked up.
