The back door shut.
I stood alone in my kitchen holding the monitor.
For several minutes, I told myself not to touch it.
Laura deserved privacy.
Ben deserved the benefit of the doubt.
Then I looked at the timestamp on the newest clip.
8:11 p.m.
Ben had said Laura fell shortly after eight.
I pressed play.
The camera angle showed the baby’s crib, the open nursery door, and a narrow section of the upstairs landing.
Laura appeared first.
She was holding a yellow folder against her chest.
Then Ben stepped into view.
The audio was thin, but I heard Laura clearly.
“You had no right to use your mother’s house.”
I stopped breathing.
Ben reached for the folder.
Laura pulled it away.
“She’ll understand when she sees the whole plan,” he said.
“You haven’t even asked her.”
“I’m going to.”
“When?”
Ben exhaled sharply.
“Stop acting like I’m stealing from her.”
I stared at the tiny screen.
They were talking about me.
My house had been paid off since my husband, Frank, died six years earlier.
Ben knew that house meant more to me than its value on paper.
Frank and I had bought it when Ben was four.
We raised him there.
Frank built the cabinets.
He planted the maple tree out back.
His workbench was still in the garage.
I had told Ben many times that I planned to stay there as long as I could.
On the screen, Laura moved toward the stairs.
Ben stepped sideways.
“Give me the folder.”
“Move.”
“Laura.”
“Move.”
He stretched one arm across the landing.
Not touching her.
Blocking her.
Laura ducked beneath it.
Ben grabbed the edge of the yellow folder.
Several papers slipped out.
“Stop making this worse,” he said.
Laura turned.
Her heel landed partly on the top stair.
She reached for the brass railing.
Missed.
Then she disappeared from view.
The monitor caught the sounds.
One impact.
Then another.
Then a third.
I covered my mouth.
Ben stood frozen.
For one horrible second, he didn’t move at all.
Then he ran down the stairs.
I stopped the recording.
My coffee sat untouched on the table.
A pale skin had formed across the surface.
Ben had not pushed Laura.
The video made that clear.
But he had blocked her way.
He had grabbed at the folder.
And he had lied about being in the garage.
Then I noticed the clip still had forty seconds remaining.
I pressed play again.
The landing remained empty.
Then Ben returned alone.
He crouched.
