“It records twenty-four hours a day on a digital loop, so those kids of yours are safe near the fence,” he said.
I had thanked him, not thinking much of it until Daniel complained later that evening about the old man spying on our property.
Daniel had told me the camera was probably a cheap dummy unit Mr. Henderson bought at a hardware store to look important.
Now, sitting in the sterile light of Bay Three, the memory of that small black lens felt like a heavy weight in my chest.
Dr. Morris used a damp piece of gauze to clean a scrape on my shoulder, her movements precise and careful.
“This scrape has some fine gravel embedded in it,” Dr. Morris said, holding the gauze up to the light.
“It looks like the kind of granite we use for landscaping around here,” she said.
I pulled my knees closer to my chest, the pain in my ribs catching my breath.
“I must have scraped it against the wall,” I said.
The curtain parted, and Daniel stepped back into the bay, holding a blue clipboard.
“All registered,” Daniel said, his sales smile returning as he looked at the doctor.
“How is she doing, Doctor?” he asked.
Dr. Morris set the dirty gauze down on a stainless steel tray.
“I was just examining the debris on your wife’s clothing, sir,” Dr. Morris said.
“Stairs usually leave fibers, but your clothes are covered in outdoor dust,” she said.
Daniel tapped his gold watch face twice, his eyes narrowing slightly behind his professional mask.
“Well, like I said, she was disoriented,” Daniel said, his voice smooth.
“She must have crawled out onto the porch to get some air before I found her,” he said.
Dr. Morris stood up straight and looked at the blue clipboard in his hand.
“The stairs in your home are carpeted, correct?” Dr. Morris asked.
“Yes, a very thick plush carpet,” Daniel said.
“Then it is unusual that there is not a single strand of nylon fiber on her pajamas,” Dr. Morris said.
The silence inside the small curtained bay grew heavy, broken only by the squeak of an orderly’s shoes in the hallway.
Daniel looked at me, his eyes commanding me to speak, to fix the tear in his story.
I kept my hands folded in my lap, my thumb continuing to trace the circle of my wedding band.
