One afternoon, while they were gone, I placed a small voice recorder in our son’s room, hidden in a picture frame.
The next visit, I let them go upstairs, waited, and retrieved it that night. What I heard made my hands shake.
Lenore’s tone was calm: “If your mother finds out and leaves your father, it’s your fault. No college. No future. One word about what you saw, and you ruin this family.”
Victor’s voice was low: “Your dad made a mistake. Adults do that sometimes. But that doesn’t give you the right to ruin his life.”
Our Victor whispered: “I won’t say anything. I promise.”
I sat in the dark, replaying it over and over.
Whatever Victor had witnessed involved Tanner. Something serious enough that his parents were paying a 13-year-old to stay silent.
I needed the full truth. So I ordered a GPS tracker and hid it in Tanner’s car.
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