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#53: Maya
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2026-02-19 23:50:02Maya settles deeper into the leather armchair in the surveillance van parked three blocks away with her legs crossed and a tablet balanced on her knee. The feed from the six micro-cameras she planted throughout David and Nora's apartment is crisp, the audio clean enough to catch every breath and every word. She has watched David and Nora return from the federal building, watched him hold her too long in the foyer, watched them disappear into the master suite for what was obviously not a conve
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SIR #53: Maya
Maya settles deeper into the leather armchair in the surveillance van parked three blocks away with her legs crossed and a tablet balanced on her knee. The feed from the six micro-cameras she planted throughout David and Nora's apartment is crisp, the audio clean enough to catch every breath and every word. She has watched David and Nora return from the federal building, watched him hold her too long in the foyer, watched them disappear into the master suite for what was obviously not a conversation. The rage that had simmered since the chapel wedding is now a steady burn in her chest, but she keeps it contained. Rage without control is useless. She has learned that lesson the hard way. On the screen, Nora moves alone through the hallway toward the front door. She kisses David on the cheek just before she steps out, and promises to be back home soon. Wouldn’t be so sure if I were you, Maya thinks to herself. Nora steps out holding a black leather bound
SIR #52: Hands Where I Can See Them
The sight of Maya on our couch with her legs crossed, looking like she’s waiting for room service, snaps something inside me and I just move. I cross the living room in three strides, my hands already curling into fists, ready to wipe that calm smile off her face with every ounce of rage that’s been building since the day stepped into that warehouse. I almost make it. The cold press of a gun barrel against the back of my skull stops me dead. “Easy now,” a man’s voice says from behind me. “Hands where I can see them.” I raise them slowly, doing my utmost to quell the rage building up within me. Maya sets her glass down on the coffee table with a soft clink. “Well,” she says, standing smoothly, “now that we’ve gotten the initial hostility out of the way, perhaps we can behave like adults.” David puts himself between me and the gunman without hesitation. “Get that thing off her head,” he says in a voice that's danger
SIR #51: You're Coming Home
The holding cell door clangs shut behind me and I stand there for a long moment, feeling the orange jumpsuit scratching against my skin. The fluorescent light overhead never seems to turn off. It hums like it’s mocking me. I sink onto the thin mattress and take a deep breath. The woman already in the cell doesn’t look up right away. She’s older, maybe late forties, with hair pulled into tight cornrows and arms crossed over her chest. Tattoos crawl up her forearms bearing names, dates, and a small cross. She finally glances my way. “New fish,” she says, her voice low and gravelly. “What’d they pin on you?” “Murder,” I answer. No point in lying. Pretty sure everyone in here already knows my face from the news. She snorts. “High profile. They love those. Means the guards watch closer, but the other girls leave you alone. Mostly.” “Mostly,” I repeat. “Name’s Tasha. Been here fourteen months waiting on sentencing. You got people
SIR #50: Try It
The chapel goes dead silent except for the distant roll of waves. “Wait... what?" David says, his hands tightening around my waist. “There has to be a mistake! She was cleared of all charges months ago!” “New evidence has come to light that leads us to believe she doctored the tape she sent to us six months ago, and then killed Maya to cover it up.” “Mommy what's happening?” Lucy asks in a small voice. I look down at her, then back at Harlan as he approaches holding the cuffs. The metal clicks around my wrists before I can even process the sound. Tight enough to bite skin but not quite break it. My dress brushes the stone floor as they turn me, guiding my arms behind my back. The silk feels suddenly ridiculous against the rough edges of reality. David is off the altar in three strides, placing himself between me and Harlan before anyone can stop him. “You’re not taking her anywhere,” he says, voice low and level.
SIR #49: You're Under Arrest
Six months pass in the kind of blur that only comes after everything has already broken and been pieced back together wrong-side-up. David finishes physical therapy the week before Thanksgiving. The last session ended with him jogging in place on the treadmill while the therapist clapped like he’s just run a marathon instead of simply remembering how to trust his own legs again. When he walks out of the clinic under his own power, I’m waiting in the parking lot with Lucy on my hip and a coffee in both hands. He stops in front of us, takes the cup from my fingers, and kisses me so thoroughly the paper sleeve crinkles between us. “Still got it,” he murmurs against my mouth. “Never doubted you,” I tell him, and mean it. The life insurance check from Malcolm arrived two weeks later. The eight-figure number still feels obscene sitting in my bank account. David immediately called his old financial advisor the same afternoon, then spent the next month quietly buying back Calder Investmen
SIR #48: So What Happens Next?
The recorder sits on the kitchen island like a small black bomb waiting to detonate. I haven’t touched it since I got home at three in the morning, showered twice to wash off the warehouse smell, and crawled into bed beside Lucy without waking her. Now it’s almost ten and I still can’t touch it. Marcus is already here, nursing coffee at the counter. He didn’t ask for details when I texted him I was clear and heading home. He just said he’d stay until Sel arrived to take over watch. I pick up my phone instead of the recorder. Three missed calls from the law firm. Two voicemails. I hit play on the first one while I pour myself coffee I probably won’t drink. “Nora, it’s Rachel Kline. Harlan and Martinez came by the office this morning with questions. They’re fishing, but they’re persistent. We need you in here today. Bring whatever you have that might help. Call me back.” The second voicemail is shorter. “Rachel again. They’re talking about convening a grand jury next week if they
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