Chapter 3 - THE CAMERA
The police returned to our apartment the following morning.
This time they brought a warrant.
Melissa wasn't there.
Neither was Ryan's mother.
Ryan's father opened the door.
Detective Hayes walked straight toward the balcony.
She photographed the lock.
The glass.
The handprints.
The railing.
Then she noticed something.
A tiny black object above the kitchen doorway.
“What is that?”
Ryan looked up.
“I don't know.”
His father stared at it.
Then his face changed.
“That's the old security camera.”
Ryan frowned.
“We don't have security cameras inside.”
His father shook his head.
“Your mother installed them after someone broke into the building.”
Detective Hayes stepped closer.
“Is it still functioning?”
Ryan checked.
The camera was connected to an old recording system.
And suddenly, the case changed.
They found the footage.
Thanksgiving evening.
7:41 p.m.
Melissa entered the kitchen.
7:44.
She poured my drink.
7:49.
I walked toward the balcony.
7:50.
Melissa followed.
7:51.
I stepped outside.
7:51:12.
Melissa closed the door.
7:51:16.
She turned the lock.
The room went silent.
Then Melissa looked directly at the camera.
She smiled.
Detective Hayes paused the footage.
Nobody spoke.
Ryan's father whispered, “Oh my God.”
The detective continued.
On the recording, Melissa walked back toward the kitchen.
But before leaving, she stopped.
She turned around.
And said something.
The microphone caught it.
Only three words.
“Let's see now.”
Ryan covered his mouth.
I watched the footage from my hospital bed later that night.
I didn't cry.
I didn't scream.
I simply stared at Melissa's face.
For months, I had convinced myself that she was merely cruel.
She wasn't.
She was dangerous.
Then Detective Hayes showed me another clip.
It was recorded three days before Thanksgiving.
Melissa was in our kitchen.
She was holding a small bottle.
She opened it.
Poured something into a glass.
Then she heard footsteps.
She quickly hid the bottle in her purse.
The footage ended.
Detective Hayes looked at me.
“We're testing the bottle.”
I whispered, “Where did you find it?”
“In your trash.”
I stared at her.
“What happens now?”
“She'll be arrested.”
I looked at Ryan.
He was staring at the floor.
“Ryan.”
He looked at me.
“I need you to answer one question.”
“What?”
“Why did you keep defending her?”
He opened his mouth.
Nothing came out.
Finally, he whispered:
“Because I never believed she'd actually hurt you.”
I nodded slowly.
“That was your mistake.”
He looked broken.
But I wasn't ready to forgive him.
Not yet.
Then Detective Hayes received a phone call.
She listened.
Her expression changed.
“What?”
She ended the call.
“We found another bottle.”
“Where?”
“In Melissa's car.”
Ryan stood.
“What was inside?”
Detective Hayes looked at me.
“The same substance.”
Then she added:
“Enough to hurt several people.”
My heart stopped.
Several people?
Why would Melissa need that much?
May you like
Detective Hayes answered before I could ask.
“Because we don't think you were her only target.”
