Chapter 13 - The Hidden Device
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Before Patricia could formulate a venomous comeback, the double doors at the end of the emergency hallway swung open. A third police officer, a seasoned detective in a plain suit, walked briskly toward our group.
"Colonel Gardner?" the detective asked, approaching me directly, completely ignoring the wealthy family standing just feet away.
"Yes, Detective?" I replied.
"We sent a patrol unit to the intersection where the ambulance picked up your daughter," the detective explained, his voice carrying clearly in the quiet hallway. "We recovered her belongings that were left on the street when she fled the vehicle."
He held up a clear, sealed plastic evidence bag. Inside the bag wasn't a broken cell phone or a piece of jewelry. It was a small, black, digital voice recorder. It looked like a cheap dictaphone you could buy at any office supply store.
Patricia frowned, clearly confused. Nicholas stopped arguing with the uniform officer and stared at the plastic bag.
"What the hell is that?" Nicholas demanded.
I didn't know what it was either. I opened the door to the observation room and stepped back inside, the detective following me.
When Abigail saw the plastic bag in the detective's hand, she let out a massive gasp. She covered her mouth, her uninjured eye widening in sheer disbelief.
"My backup recorder," she breathed.
"What recorder, Abigail?" I asked gently.
She looked at me, tears welling up again, but this time they were tears of relief. Months earlier, before Nicholas had completely succeeded in cutting her off from the outside world, one of her college friends had grown deeply concerned about her sudden isolation. The friend had secretly slipped Abigail the tiny voice recorder during a rare, supervised lunch date.
"I hid it under the floorboard in the guest house," Abigail explained, her voice trembling with adrenaline. "Whenever Nicholas or his mother came in to scream at me, or threaten me, I turned it on in my pocket. I recorded everything for the last two months."
The room stood still.
"Why didn't you use it earlier, sweetheart?" I asked softly.
Abigail looked down. "I was too afraid. They told me the police worked for them. I didn't think anyone would ever believe me, even with the tapes. But when I ran today... I grabbed it. It was in the pocket of my dress."
The detective looked at the digital device, then looked at me. It was the ultimate weapon.
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"Ma'am," the detective said to Abigail. "Do I have your permission to review the audio on this device?"
Abigail sat up slightly straighter. "Yes. Play it."
