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A video. It’s on my tablet. I saved it because I didn’t know who else to tell.
My stomach knotted. A video?
Caleb’s lawyer immediately stood up.
“Your Honor, we object—”
“I will investigate,” the judge interrupted. Then he turned back to Harper. “But first, tell me: why doesn’t your mother know?”
His chin trembled.
“Because Dad told me not to tell anyone,” he whispered.
Caleb paled.
My hands were shaking so badly I had to grip the edge of the table.
“Officer,” the judge said firmly, “bring the child’s device.”
Harper walked to the front of the courtroom, small in that immense space, and held out the clipboard with both hands, as if offering something sacred.
When the video began playing on the court’s giant screen, my heart pounded so hard I felt like my ears were hurting.
The image appeared.
Our kitchen. At night.
