Chapter 3 - When I Pressed Play
We didn’t confront them alone. Thomas called the sheriff from Robert’s truck while I walked back into camp carrying every ounce of fury as if it were ice. Patricia, Emily, and James were seated at the campground table drinking coffee when I arrived. My mother had even changed into a clean navy sweater, as though she were preparing to receive sympathy visitors. When she saw my face, she tried to arrange concern. “Amanda, honey, you need to rest.” I said nothing. I set Robert’s time-stamped fishing video on the table and pressed play. The sound of the river filled the silence. Then Patricia appeared on the screen, shoving Noah beneath the surface, and Emily appeared hooking his swim trunks onto the rock to stage a drowning. My mother turned pale so fast it looked like somebody had drained the blood from her throat upward. Her hands started trembling. Emily covered her mouth. James lunged for the phone, but Thomas stepped between us and drove him back with one hand against his chest.
“Where is my son?” I asked. My voice barely rose above a whisper, but every person at that table flinched. Patricia recovered first, because monsters often do. “You don’t understand what you’re seeing,” she said. “He was never supposed to be hurt.” “Then why stage his death?” I asked. She looked at Emily, and that was answer enough. Emily burst into tears. “Mom said you didn’t deserve him,” she choked out. “She said you were cold and selfish and that Noah needed women who really loved him. She said I could finally have a son.” My whole body went numb. “You tried to steal my child?” Emily shook her head frantically. “I didn’t think she’d really push him that long. James got him out. He was coughing, but he was alive. He’s at the ranger cabin. Mrs. Coyle is watching him. Mom told her it was a custody emergency.” Patricia slammed her palm against the table. “Shut up, Emily.” Then she looked at me with a hatred so old it almost looked tired. “You always thought you were better than us. That boy worships you. I was correcting that.” I had seen abusive adults in exam rooms my entire career. I had never truly understood the depth of my own mother until that moment.
