Chapter 5: The Recording She Forgot to Destroy
I didn't answer Imani's message.
I took a screenshot and sent it to Evelyn Price, who called me within minutes.
“Do not go home alone,” she said.
“If there's evidence related to the allegations, don't disturb it. Let the appropriate people handle it.””
“I understand.””
“Do you?””
I looked through the glass at Zuri.
She was watching a cartoon with the sound turned low, her feet tucked beneath the blanket.
“Yes,” I said.
“I do.””
“Good. We'll discuss the workshop as part of the investigation.””
I ended the call.
For the next hour, I stayed beside my daughter while the hospital staff completed their assessments. A doctor explained that Zuri needed continued observation and follow-up care. The social worker discussed temporary safety arrangements with me.
Nobody could tell me exactly how long everything would take.
Nobody could promise that Imani wouldn't make things more complicated.
But they could tell me what would happen next, and for the first time that night, I had something solid enough to hold on to.
Then Darius returned from the hallway.
He had spoken with Evelyn and handed over the envelope. He looked as though he'd aged ten years in an hour.
“Can we talk?”” he asked.
I stepped outside Zuri's room, leaving the door partly open.
“What else?””
Darius rubbed his palms against his jeans.
“Imani called me again.””
“When?””
“Twenty minutes ago.””
“What did she say?””
“She wanted to know whether I'd come to the hospital.””
I waited.
“She said you were emotional and that I needed to remind you of what happened four years ago.””
“What exactly did she say?””
Darius pulled out his phone.
“I recorded the call.””
I stared at him.
“You recorded her?””
“I started recording because I didn't trust myself to remember everything accurately. I know I should have told you years ago that she was asking me to lie.””
He pressed play.
Imani's voice filled the hallway, tinny but unmistakable.
“Darius, you need to tell Malcolm to stop this.””
Darius's recorded voice replied, “Stop what?””
“Acting like I'm some kind of criminal. Zuri is difficult. She's been lying, and Malcolm always takes her side.””
“She has injuries, Imani.””
“She falls. Children fall.””
“Then why was she locked in the shed?””
There was a pause.
Then Imani said something that made my skin turn cold.
“Because she wouldn't say what she was supposed to say.””
The recording continued.
Darius asked, “What was she supposed to say?””
“That Malcolm hurt her.””
“Why?””
“Because he needs to understand what happens when he tries to take her away from me.””
I closed my eyes.
Darius stopped the recording.
For several seconds, neither of us spoke.
Then I asked, “Did you send that to Evelyn?””
“Yes.””
“Good.””
He slipped his phone back into his pocket.
“I don't expect you to forgive me.””
“That's fortunate.””
He flinched.
I regretted the sharpness for half a second, then remembered the handwritten statement he'd kept hidden for four years.
“You could have stopped this before it reached Zuri,” I said.
“I know.””
“You could have told me the truth when I was arrested.””
“I know.””
“You could have told me when Imani first started making allegations about me.””
His eyes filled.
“I know.””
I turned away.
“Then stop telling me what you know and start doing what you should have done.””
Darius nodded.
“I will.””
That evening, Marcus arrived with a duffel bag containing clean clothes, toiletries, a phone charger, and Zuri's favorite stuffed rabbit.
He was a sound engineer I'd worked with for six years. He'd been to my house dozens of times and knew the workshop better than most of my family did.
When he saw me in the hallway, he didn't ask for details.
He simply held out the bag.
“Whatever you need, I'm here.””
I took it.
“Thank you.””
He glanced toward the treatment room.
“How's the little one?””
“Scared.””
Marcus nodded slowly.
“Then stay with her.””
“I will.””
He hesitated.
“Malcolm, Imani called me this afternoon.””
I looked up.
“What?””
“She said you were having another breakdown. She wanted to know whether I'd seen you drinking.””
My stomach tightened.
“What did you tell her?””
“That I hadn't. Because I haven't.””
“Why didn't you tell me?””
“I thought it was marital trouble. She said you'd been acting strange, and I didn't want to interfere.””
I stared at him.
“Did she ask anything else?””
Marcus took a breath.
“She asked whether you still kept old recordings in the workshop.””
I felt the hallway tilt.
“What recordings?””
“I don't know. I assumed it was work-related.””
I thought about Imani's message.
There is something in your workshop you were never supposed to find.
“What time did she call you?””
“Just after three.””
Zuri had been at school then.
I had been setting up equipment across town.
And Imani had apparently been preparing her story long before I found the shed.
“Marcus, I need you to do something for me.””
He nodded.
“Anything.””
“Don't go to my house. Don't contact Imani. If she calls again, save the message and send it to Evelyn.””
“Understood.””
He squeezed my shoulder and left.
I returned to Zuri's room.
She was awake, holding the stuffed rabbit against her chest.
“Daddy, can Bunny stay with me?””
“Bunny can stay as long as you need.””
She stroked one of the rabbit's floppy ears.
“Can you stay, too?””
I pulled the chair closer.
“I'm not going anywhere.””
She studied me.
“Even if Mommy tells you to?””
I felt the question settle deep inside my chest.
“Even then.””
For the first time that night, Zuri smiled.
It was a small, uncertain smile, but it was hers.
I stayed until she fell asleep.
Then I stepped into the hallway and called the lawyer who had handled my case four years earlier.
His name was Thomas Greene, and he answered on the second ring.
“Malcolm? It's late. What's happened?””
I explained the shed, the injuries, the messages, and the new allegation against me.
Thomas listened without interrupting.
When I finished, he asked, “Do you still have access to the original evidence from your arrest?””
“I have copies of some documents. Why?””
“Because I remember something about that case that never sat right with me.””
“What?””
“An audio recording.””
I straightened.
“What recording?””
“Your wife submitted a short recording as part of her initial statement. It supposedly captured you threatening her.””
“I never threatened her.””
“I know. That's why I asked for the original file. We were told it had been deleted from the device and couldn't be recovered.””
“Who told you?””
“Your wife's attorney.””
I gripped the phone.
“Could there be another copy?””
“Possibly. Why are you asking?””
“Imani just told me there's something in my workshop I was never supposed to find.””
Thomas was silent for a moment.
“Malcolm, did you ever record your arguments at home?””
“No.””
“But you kept audio equipment there?””
“My workshop is in the detached garage. I keep old drives, microphones, and backup equipment. Sometimes I store personal recordings if I'm testing a new setup.””
“Then don't touch anything. If there's a recording, we need to preserve it properly.””
“I won't touch anything.””
“Good. And don't meet your wife alone.””
I glanced at the hospital room.
“I don't intend to.””
After we hung up, I walked to the vending machines and bought a bottle of water.
My hands had finally stopped shaking.
That was when I noticed an email notification on my phone.
It had come from an address I hadn't used in years: the automatic backup account for my workshop's old security system.
The subject line read:
*ARCHIVED AUDIO — RESTORE COMPLETE*
I opened it.
A list of files appeared, each labeled with a date and a time.
Most were recordings of equipment tests, room measurements, and unfinished sound projects.
Then I saw one file dated four years earlier.
The night of my arrest.
The filename was simple.
*KITCHEN_TEST_11:42_P.M.*
I stared at it.
I remembered making that recording.
I'd been testing a microphone's sensitivity in the kitchen because the room had unusual acoustics. I had placed the microphone near the counter, started the test, and forgotten about it when I went to the garage to finish packing equipment.
The recording should have been nothing but background noise.
Unless it had captured something else.
I tapped the file.
A warning appeared.
*This archive contains audio that may have been altered or partially corrupted.*
I didn't play it.
Instead, I forwarded the notification and file details to Thomas and Evelyn, then put my phone away.
A minute later, my screen lit up.
Imani.
*I know you've found it.*
My blood ran cold.
I typed one question.
*Found what?*
Her reply arrived instantly.
*The recording.*
Then another message appeared.
*You need to delete it before you hear what I said after the police left.*
I read the words twice.
After the police left.
I had been taken away in handcuffs that night.
Darius had stayed behind.
And my wife had apparently believed that whatever happened after my arrest would remain hidden forever.
I looked through the glass at Zuri, sleeping with Bunny tucked beneath her chin.
Then I called Thomas again.
“Don't play the recording alone,” he said after hearing what Imani had sent.
“We'll arrange for it to be examined properly.””
“There's something else,” I told him.
“She knows the file exists.””
“Then assume she may try to access it. Don't alter the account or delete anything.””
I agreed.
As I ended the call, another notification appeared.
This one came from the backup system itself.
A second file had finished restoring.
The filename contained only a date and a single word.
*ZURI_BEDROOM — 2:17 A.M.*
I had no memory of recording it.
But the date was the night of my arrest.
May you like
And when I read the duration, I felt the blood drain from my face.
Forty-three minutes.
