My hands were steady. That surprised me.
The garage door opened. Tara walked in with a bag of ice and a big smile.
“Who’s ready for cake?”
Then she saw our faces.
Then she saw the monitor in front of me.
The bag of ice slid out of her hands.
“Where did you get that?”
“My daughter,” I said. “She’s been listening to you every night for five weeks.”
Kaylee pulled her old phone out of her other pocket.
“The other half is behind the paint cans in the garage,” she said quietly. “That’s where they go every night to smoke and talk. I recorded everything. I held my phone up to the speaker. Thirty-one nights.”
Her voice cracked on the last word.
Tara looked at me and put on her softest voice.
“Wade, honey, she’s twisting it. You know how she—”
“Get out,” I said.
