Chapter 5: The Drive
Raymond looked older than the last time I had seen him.
He came in without knocking, the way family does, and stopped when he saw Linda sitting at the table.
They looked at each other for a moment.
Brother and sister.
Something passed between them that I couldn't name and didn't want to.
He set a small black external drive on the table.
"Everything is on there," he said.
"Dated.
Timestamped.
The metadata is intact." He looked at Daniel.
"I had a tech friend verify it two years ago.
It's clean.
It'll hold up."
Linda looked at the drive the way a person looks at something they thought they had buried.
"You kept it," she said.
"I kept it."
"Why?"
Raymond pulled out a chair and sat down across from her.
"Because I knew someday I'd have to do the right thing.
I just kept hoping I wouldn't have to."
"You're going to destroy this family."
"You destroyed this family," he said.
"I'm just the one who finally said so."
Daniel picked up the drive.
He turned it over in his hands.
"I need to know what's on here before I decide what to do with it."
"I'll walk you through it," Raymond said.
They moved to the laptop on the counter.
I stayed at the table.
Linda stayed in her chair.
For a while the only sounds were Raymond's quiet voice explaining folders and filenames, and the occasional click of the trackpad.
Then Daniel said, "There's a folder here labeled with Patricia's name.
And one labeled—" He stopped.
"What?" I asked.
He turned the laptop so I could see the screen.
The third folder was labeled with my name.
My full name.
Created fourteen months ago.
"She was planning this for over a year," Raymond said quietly.
I looked at Linda.
She met my eyes without looking away.
That was the part that stayed with me afterward — she didn't look away.
"You planned this for fourteen months," I said.
"While I was in your house for Christmas.
While I was sitting across from you at Chloe's birthday.
While I was—" I stopped because my voice had done something I didn't want it to do.
"You were never going to be good enough," Linda said.
"That isn't personal.
It's simply true."
"Mom." Daniel's voice had gone flat in a way I had never heard before.
"Stop talking."
She stopped.
He closed the laptop.
He looked at Raymond.
"I need the name of your tech contact.
And I need to know if you're willing to make a statement."
"I'll make a statement," Raymond said.
"I should have made one three years ago."
"And Patricia?"
"She's already spoken to a lawyer.
She's been ready for this for a long time."
Daniel nodded slowly.
He looked at his mother one more time.
Then he picked up his phone and walked out of the kitchen into the hallway.
I heard him dial.
I heard him say: "I need to speak with someone about filing a complaint.
Yes.
Tonight if possible."
Linda sat very still.
The drive was no longer on the table.
Daniel had it in his pocket.
Raymond poured himself a glass of water from the tap and stood at the counter drinking it.
He didn't offer Linda anything.
She didn't ask.
Chloe had fallen asleep on the bottom stair.
I could see her from where I sat — her head against the wall, her tablet still loosely in her hand.
She had saved everything.
A seven-year-old had saved everything.
I got up, went to the hallway, and lifted her carefully.
She stirred but didn't wake.
I carried her upstairs and tucked her in and stood in the doorway of her room for a moment in the dark.
When I came back down, Daniel was in the kitchen with a name and a number written on a piece of paper.
May you like
"Tomorrow morning," he said.
"We go together."
