Chapter 2 - THE ROOM UPSTAIRS
The police photographed Leo’s bruises before we left the house.
I hated every second of it.
The flash.
The measuring ruler.
The officer asking me to gently lift Leo’s shirt.
My son standing frozen, shoulders raised, clearly expecting pain whenever an adult moved too quickly.
But evidence mattered.
Rebecca repeated that sentence quietly while the photographs were taken.
Evidence mattered.
Because emotion could be dismissed.
Stories could be twisted.
Bruises could fade.
Photographs did not.
Dominic remained near the fireplace with another officer.
He had stopped shouting.
That worried me more.
My husband was most dangerous when he became quiet.
I knew that from ten years of marriage.
When Dominic yelled, he was reacting.
When Dominic became calm, he was planning.
Victoria sat rigidly on the sofa.
Brooke held Liam against her chest.
The little boy looked frightened.
He was three, maybe three and a half.
None of this was his fault.
I forced myself to remember that.
He didn’t choose his mother.
He didn’t choose Dominic.
He certainly didn’t choose what had happened to Leo.
As the officer finished documenting the bruises, Liam looked at me.
“Is Leo going away?”
Brooke pulled him closer.
“Don’t talk to her.”
I looked at the child anyway.
“Yes.”
His lip trembled.
“Can I go?”
Brooke snapped.
“No.”
Liam started crying.
She became embarrassed.
“Stop it.”
But he reached toward Leo.
“Leo sleeps with me when thunder comes.”
Everyone froze.
I looked at him.
“What?”
Brooke’s eyes widened.
“Liam.”
He ignored her.
“Grandma puts Leo downstairs but he comes to my room when thunder comes.”
Downstairs.
My eyes moved toward Victoria.
“What does he mean?”
“Children make things up.”
The officer beside Dominic looked toward me.
“Mrs. Sterling, where is your son’s bedroom?”
I opened my mouth.
Then stopped.
When I left for Singapore, Leo’s bedroom had been upstairs beside ours.
Blue walls.
White furniture.
Tiny wooden airplanes suspended from the ceiling.
“Second floor.”
Liam shook his head.
“Leo room downstairs.”
My heart sank.
The officer immediately asked Victoria to show him.
She refused.
“It’s private property.”
The officer remained calm.
“Ma’am, we’re investigating possible child abuse. You can consent, or we can request a warrant.”
Rebecca quietly said, “Let them look.”
Dominic finally spoke.
“Mother.”
Victoria turned.
“Don’t.”
He stared at her for several seconds.
Then she stood.
“This is absurd.”
We followed her through the kitchen.
Past the pantry.
Past the laundry room.
Toward a door I remembered leading to the basement stairs.
Victoria unlocked it.
Unlocked.
The door had been locked from the outside.
The officer noticed.
“So this stays locked?”
“For storage.”
“Why is there a child safety alarm mounted here?”
She did not answer.
My pulse roared in my ears.
We descended.
The basement had once been finished.
Dominic used it as a game room.
There had been a pool table, wine refrigerator, television, and leather sofa.
Now most of the furniture was gone.
A wall had been added.
At the far end was another door.
Small.
White.
No handle on the inside.
I knew that because the officer opened it and shined his flashlight in.
I stopped breathing.
The room was maybe six feet wide.
A stained mattress lay directly on the floor.
There was no bed frame.
No sheets.
A thin gray blanket sat in the corner.
Plastic cups.
A bucket.
A broken toy truck.
And scratches on the wall.
Dozens of them.
Some high.
Some low.
Some shaped like tiny fingers.
Rebecca covered her mouth.
Samuel whispered, “Document everything.”
My knees nearly gave out.
“Leo slept here?”
Victoria immediately protested.
“Only when he misbehaved.”
I turned.
“What?”
“He needed discipline.”
“He’s four.”
“He screamed constantly. He threw food. He frightened Liam.”
“So you locked him in a basement?”
“It wasn’t like that.”
The officer stepped between us before I could move closer.
“How long would he be placed in this room?”
Victoria stiffened.
“A few minutes.”
Liam’s small voice came from the stairs.
“Sometimes morning.”
Brooke had followed us despite being told not to.
She clamped a hand over his mouth.
The officer’s expression hardened.
“Remove your hand from the child’s face.”
Brooke did.
Liam pointed toward the mattress.
“Leo cries there.”
“Stop talking,” Brooke hissed.
“No,” I said.
My voice shook.
“Let him talk.”
The officer crouched.
“Hey, buddy. Did Leo sleep here at night?”
Liam nodded.
“When Grandma mad.”
“How many nights?”
He shrugged.
“Lots.”
Victoria started arguing.
“He doesn’t understand time!”
“No,” the officer said. “But he understands where someone sleeps.”
I stepped into the room.
The smell hit me.
Mildew.
Urine.
Old food.
I saw a row of marks on the wall.
At first I thought they were random scratches.
Then I realized they were letters.
L.
E.
O.
My son had been trying to write his own name.
Again.
And again.
And again.
Below that was another word.
MOM.
The last M was backwards.
I touched the wall.
That was when I finally cried.
Not loudly.
No dramatic collapse.
Just tears sliding down my face as I imagined my child alone in the dark scratching letters into paint.
Waiting for me.
Believing I didn’t want him.
Rebecca stood behind me.
“We’re going to get him help.”
I nodded.
I couldn’t speak.
The officer photographed the room.
Then he noticed something.
A small black device in the corner near the ceiling.
He pointed his flashlight.
“What’s that?”
Dominic appeared behind us.
“Security camera.”
I spun around.
“You recorded him?”
“It was for safety.”
The officer looked at him.
“Where does it store footage?”
“Cloud server.”
“Who has access?”
Dominic hesitated.
“I do.”
Rebecca stepped closer.
“Preserve every file immediately.”
Dominic laughed bitterly.
“You think I’d give you access?”
“No,” Rebecca said.
“I think the court will order you to.”
The officer turned toward his partner.
“Call digital forensics.”
Dominic’s expression changed.
For the first time, genuine panic appeared.
And I saw it.
Rebecca saw it too.
He didn’t care about the basement being discovered.
He cared about that camera.
“What’s on the footage?” I asked.
“Nothing.”
“Dominic.”
“Nothing.”
“You’re lying.”
He looked at me with hatred.
“Maybe the footage shows what he’s really like.”
I stepped toward him.
“What does that mean?”
“He attacked people.”
“He’s four!”
“He bit Brooke.”
Brooke quickly raised her sleeve.
A faint scar sat near her wrist.
“He’s violent.”
I stared at her.
“What happened before he bit you?”
She rolled her eyes.
“He had a tantrum.”
Liam suddenly said something behind her.
“Mommy burned his bear.”
The air seemed to leave the basement.
Brooke spun around.
“What did you say?”
Liam looked confused.
“You burned Leo bear.”
I stared at her.
“What bear?”
“Nothing.”
Liam continued.
“Blue bear. Leo cry. Mommy put in fireplace.”
I remembered the bear.
A stuffed blue bear named Captain Blue.
Leo had slept with it since infancy.
My mother gave it to him before she died.
My vision blurred.
“You burned his comfort toy?”
Brooke’s face flushed.
“He threw it at Liam.”
“So you burned it?”
“It was a lesson.”
A lesson.
My hands curled into fists.
Rebecca touched my arm.
“Clara.”
I knew what she meant.
Don’t give them anything they can use.
I took one step backward.
The officer’s radio crackled.
A second officer appeared at the stairs.
“Detective’s on the way.”
Then he looked toward Dominic.
“And the judge approved preservation of the surveillance server.”
Dominic went still.
Rebecca smiled faintly.
“There it is.”
“What?”
“The reason you’re scared.”
Dominic looked at her.
“I’m not scared.”
“Yes, you are.”
She glanced toward the camera.
“You know exactly what’s on that server.”
No one spoke.
Then a loud sound came from upstairs.
Glass breaking.
Samuel immediately moved toward the stairs.
“Stay here.”
We heard shouting.
Maria screamed.
The officers ran up.
I followed.
When we reached the living room, the rear patio door was open.
Cold evening air swept through the curtains.
And Brooke was gone.
So was Liam.
Dominic stared toward the open door.
“Where did she go?”
Maria pointed toward the driveway.
“She took Mrs. Sterling’s black SUV.”
My SUV.
Rebecca cursed under her breath.
Then Samuel noticed something on the coffee table.
Brooke’s phone.
She had forgotten it.
He picked it up carefully.
The screen was still unlocked.
A message was visible.
Three words.
DELETE THE VIDEOS.
May you like
And the sender was saved under a name that made me look directly at my husband.
D.
