Chapter 4: The Tape
For several seconds, nobody in the house moved.
Nicole stood by the front door holding the cardboard box against her chest.
My father looked as though someone had pulled the floor out from beneath him.
My mother had one hand over her mouth.
Detective Harris stared at the cassette tape.
And I couldn't stop looking at the little red sneaker.
It was faded now, the rubber sole yellowed with age.
But I knew it.
I had seen it before.
Not in a photograph.
In a memory.
A bedroom floor.
A child crying.
A red sneaker lying underneath a chair.
“Nicole,” I said, “what happened to Brandon?””
She swallowed.
“He didn't die.””
My knees nearly gave out.
“What?””
“He almost did.””
My father stepped forward.
“That was twenty-two years ago.””
Nicole backed away.
“Don't.””
His voice sharpened.
“Give me the box.””
“No.””
“Nicole.””
“No!””
She hugged it tighter.
For the first time in my life, my sister screamed at him.
“You don't get to tell me what to do anymore.””
My mother began crying.
“Please.””
I looked at her.
“Please what?””
She shook her head.
“Emily, you don't understand.””
“Then explain it.””
Nobody spoke.
Detective Harris cleared his throat.
“Mr. Coleman, I'm going to need everyone to remain calm.””
My father glared at him.
“This is a family matter.””
“No,” Detective Harris said.
“Not anymore.””
He looked at Nicole.
“Is that evidence from the original incident?””
Nicole nodded.
“I kept it.””
“For twenty-two years?””
“I was scared.””
My father laughed bitterly.
“You were a child.””
“So was Emily.””
The room went silent.
Nicole looked at me.
“I was eight when it happened.””
I felt something tighten in my chest.
“Tell me.””
She shook her head.
“Not here.””
“Nicole.””
“I can't.””
“You brought the box here.””
“Because I thought Dad was going to hurt Ava.””
Her eyes filled with tears.
“I saw him raise that belt, and suddenly I was eight again.””
She looked toward my father.
“I couldn't let him do it twice.””
My father whispered her name.
“Nicole.””
She stepped farther away.
“Don't say my name like you still own me.””
Detective Harris gestured toward the living room.
“Let's sit down.””
Nobody argued.
We gathered around the old coffee table where, only twelve hours earlier, my mother had displayed photographs from my father's life.
His college graduation.
His wedding.
Brandon's first business.
Nicole's high school graduation.
My law school graduation.
A perfect family history.
Except now I knew there were missing pages.
Nicole placed the box on the table.
She removed the newspaper clipping first.
The headline was from 1990.
*LOCAL FAMILY CHILD HOSPITALIZED AFTER FALL*
My fingers went cold.
I read the article.
It described a four-year-old girl who had supposedly fallen down a staircase.
Me.
But the final paragraph mentioned something I had never known.
*Authorities also investigated an unrelated injury involving the girl's seven-year-old brother, Brandon Coleman.*
I looked up.
“Unrelated?””
Nicole shook her head.
“It wasn't unrelated.””
“What happened?””
She looked at my mother.
“Mom?””
My mother couldn't meet my eyes.
Nicole spoke.
“Brandon was seven. Dad caught him taking money from his desk.””
My father immediately interrupted.
“He stole from me.””
“He took five dollars,” Nicole said.
“He lied.””
“He was seven.””
“He needed to learn.””
I felt sick.
“What did Dad do?””
Nicole's voice trembled.
“He locked Brandon in the basement.””
My father slammed his palm against the table.
“That's enough.””
Detective Harris looked at him.
“Let her finish.””
Nicole continued.
“It was winter. The furnace downstairs wasn't working. Brandon was crying. He kept saying he was sorry.””
I closed my eyes.
I could almost hear it.
A boy's voice.
A door shutting.
Footsteps walking away.
“What happened next?”” I asked.
Nicole looked at me.
“I went downstairs.””
My father stared at her.
“You weren't supposed to.””
“I heard Brandon screaming.””
“What did you see?””
Nicole's hands shook.
“Dad had the belt.””
My stomach turned.
“He hit Brandon?””
Nicole nodded.
“Where?””
“His legs. His back. Everywhere.””
My mother made a sound like she was choking.
I looked at her.
“You knew.””
She whispered, “I was afraid.””
“Of him?””
“Yes.””
“And you stayed?””
She cried harder.
“I didn't know what else to do.””
“You could have called the police.””
“I did.””
I froze.
“You did?””
Nicole nodded.
“That's why the police came.””
My mother's eyes lifted.
“But when they arrived, Brandon was unconscious.””
The room seemed to shrink.
“What?””
“He'd hit his head.””
My father's face hardened.
“He fell.””
Nicole laughed through her tears.
“No.””
She opened the box.
“That's what Dad told them.””
She pulled out the cassette tape.
“But I recorded what happened.””
My heart began pounding.
“You recorded it?””
“I had a little tape recorder. I used it for school.””
She looked down.
“I left it running in the hallway.””
Detective Harris carefully picked up the cassette.
“Is there still a device that can play this?””
Nicole nodded.
“I found one online years ago.””
She looked at me.
“I kept it because I knew someday I'd need it.””
My father stood.
“That's enough.””
Detective Harris immediately blocked him.
“Sit down.””
Richard's face flushed.
“You have no right.””
“I have every right if you're interfering with an active investigation.””
My father stared at him.
Then at me.
“This is what you wanted, Emily.””
“No.””
I looked at Ava's photograph on my phone.
“This is what you created.””
Detective Harris asked Nicole, “What does the tape contain?””
She hesitated.
“Dad talking to Brandon.””
“What exactly?””
“I don't remember every word.””
“Then let's listen.””
Nicole pulled a small portable cassette player from the box.
She inserted the tape.
Pressed play.
Static filled the room.
Then a child's voice.
Small.
Terrified.
“Dad, I'm sorry.””
My blood ran cold.
My father closed his eyes.
The recording continued.
Richard's younger voice came through the speaker.
“You think sorry fixes stealing?””
“I won't do it again.””
“You always say that.””
A sharp sound followed.
A slap.
I flinched.
Nicole covered her mouth.
Then came Brandon's crying.
“Please.””
Another sound.
Then my father's voice.
“Stop crying.””
The tape crackled.
A door slammed.
Then silence.
I looked at Nicole.
“What happens next?””
She shook her head.
“You don't want to hear it.””
“Yes, I do.””
The tape resumed.
My mother's younger voice appeared faintly in the background.
“Richard, enough.””
“You stay out of this.””
“He's bleeding.””
“He'll learn.””
“Richard, he's seven.””
“Then he should know better.””
A chair scraped.
Then my mother's voice became louder.
“I said enough!””
There was a long silence.
Then my father said something that made every hair on my arms rise.
“Fine.””
A pause.
“Then maybe I'll teach Emily instead.””
The tape stopped.
Nobody breathed.
I stared at my father.
He looked at the floor.
I could hear my own heartbeat.
“That's why I fell,” I whispered.
Nicole nodded.
“Not because you fell.””
“Because Dad wanted to hurt me.””
“No.””
She wiped her cheeks.
“Because Mom tried to stop him.””
I looked at my mother.
“What did you do?””
She couldn't answer.
“What did you do, Mom?””
Finally she whispered:
“I pushed you.””
The words barely existed in the air.
“I pushed you away from him.””
My stomach dropped.
“You pushed me?””
“You were running toward him.””
“I was four.””
“I know.””
“You pushed me down the stairs?””
“I didn't mean to.””
My father suddenly shouted.
“She didn't push you down the stairs!””
Everyone turned.
He realized what he'd said.
I stared at him.
“How would you know?””
Silence.
“How would you know what happened?””
His mouth opened.
Nothing came out.
I stepped closer.
“Unless you were there.””
He looked at me.
And for the first time, I saw something worse than anger in my father's face.
Fear.
Detective Harris picked up the old police report.
“Mr. Coleman, I think we need to discuss exactly what happened in this house in 1990.””
My father shook his head.
“You can't prove anything.””
I looked at the cassette.
Then the photograph.
Then the red sneaker.
“No,” I said quietly.
“But we can start.””
My phone rang.
The screen showed a number I didn't recognize.
I answered.
“Hello?””
A man's voice said, “Emily Coleman?””
“Yes.””
“I think you need to know what happened to Brandon after the ambulance took him away.””
I stood completely still.
“Who is this?””
The man breathed into the phone.
“I was the paramedic.””
Then he said something that made my blood run cold.
“Your brother didn't fall unconscious at home.””
May you like
A pause.
“He was already unconscious when your father carried him outside.””
