Chapter 4 - The Buried Secret
I backed away from my husband, feeling as though the hospital floor had just dropped out from under me.
"You were arrested for aggravated assault and you never thought to tell me?" I asked, my voice cracking.
James reached out toward me, his hands shaking violently with shame.
"I was twenty years old, Rebecca, and I was drinking heavily after my dad passed away," he pleaded.
"The guy at the bar pulled a knife on me, and I just saw red and lost total control," he explained.
"I spent a week in jail before my public defender managed to get the charges reduced to a misdemeanor," he continued.
"Why did my mother know about this when your own wife did not?" I demanded, tears burning my eyes.
James swallowed hard, looking absolutely broken under the harsh hospital lights.
"Your mother hired a private investigator to do a background check on me right before we got married," James admitted.
"She brought the file to me and threatened to ruin our wedding unless I promised to always let her control the family image," he said.
"She paid a high-priced lawyer to have the record permanently expunged so it would not embarrass the Hutchinsons," he revealed.
I pressed my hands against my temples, a massive migraine throbbing behind my eyes.
Patricia had kept this secret weapon loaded and ready for years, waiting for the perfect moment to use it.
Now, she was using it to paint my husband as a violent monster who belonged nowhere near a child.
"I am so incredibly sorry, Rebecca, I thought that part of my life was dead and buried," James sobbed.
I wanted to scream at him for lying to me, but I knew that turning on each other was exactly what my family wanted.
"We do not have time for this right now," I said, forcing my emotions into a tight, locked box.
"If we are going to beat them in court, I need undeniable proof that my father swung that belt," I reasoned.
"The police have already confiscated the security cameras from your parents' house," James pointed out miserably.
"My parents' cameras conveniently stop recording whenever my father throws a tantrum," I noted bitterly.
"But Mr. Henderson, the neighbor next door, was filming the entire aftermath on his cell phone," I remembered.
"I need to get to Henderson's house before my brother figures out he has that video," I stated.
I grabbed my car keys from my purse and gave James a quick, tight hug.
"Stay here and make sure that caseworker does not try to move Lily to a state facility," I ordered.
I sprinted out of the hospital and drove my car wildly through the dark suburban streets.
I pulled up to Mr. Henderson’s small, neatly kept house and pounded aggressively on the front door.
The porch light flicked on, and the elderly man opened the door with a terrified look on his face.
"Rebecca, you really should not be here right now," Mr. Henderson whispered, looking nervously over his shoulder.
"I need the video you recorded in the kitchen, Mr. Henderson, it is the only way to save my daughter," I begged.
The old man shook his head sadly and nervously wiped sweat from his forehead.
"I cannot give it to you, Rebecca, because I do not have the phone anymore," he confessed.
"Travis came by an hour ago and offered me fifty thousand dollars in cash for the device," he admitted shamefully.
I felt a scream of pure frustration rising in my throat as another piece of evidence vanished.
But as I turned to leave in defeat, I noticed a small, blinking blue light on Mr. Henderson's porch ceiling.
It was a modern, high-definition security camera, and it was pointed directly at my parents' kitchen window.
May you like
"Who manages the cloud storage for your security system, Mr. Henderson?" I asked, a predatory smile forming on my face.
Before he could answer, a heavy brick smashed directly into the porch camera, shattering the lens into a hundred pieces.
