Chapter 4 - The Attic Files
The photograph had been taken six months earlier. Rebecca was curled up on the bathroom floor in a bathrobe. A yellow pill bottle lay near her hand. The image suggested an overdose, a faint, or gross negligence.
The truth was less dramatic, but just as painful. She had suffered a panic attack after Trevor locked her in the bathroom during an argument. When he left, she took a dose of the anti-anxiety medication her OB-GYN had prescribed during her previous postpartum period and remained on the cold tiles until she could breathe normally.
Emma was sleeping in her crib. Trevor had photographed Rebecca through the cracked door. He had never mentioned that photo to her.
The pill bottle in the image was standing upright, its label facing the camera.
Maya studied the details. “This looks staged.”
“It happened.”
“Something happening and someone staging how it should be remembered are two different things.”
Trevor’s motion contained more. A statement from his sister, Caroline, described Rebecca as unstable and dependent on her father. A former housekeeper claimed Rebecca sometimes stayed in bed until noon. Trevor included text messages in which Rebecca wrote that she felt like disappearing.
The message had been sent during postpartum depression, eleven months after Emma was born. Trevor had omitted his own reply: Stop being so dramatic.
Followed by Rebecca’s response: You’re right. Forget it.
The court set a date for the temporary measures hearing. Until then, the restraining order kept Trevor from seeing Rebecca, but the family court needed to determine whether he could have contact with Emma, and under what conditions.
Maya advised Rebecca to obtain her full medical records. “Don’t sugarcoat them,” she said. “If you had postpartum depression, we will address it. Receiving mental health treatment does not unfit anyone as a mother. Concealing it, however, could make you look dishonest.”
Rebecca signed the authorization forms for her OB-GYN, her therapist, and her primary care physician. The reports reflected that she had sought treatment for anxiety and insomnia following childbirth. They also showed she had followed instructions, attended appointments, and never expressed any thoughts of harming Emma.
One nursing note unnerved her: Patient reports bruising on right arm caused by bumping into a doorframe while carrying a laundry basket.
Rebecca remembered Trevor’s fingers. He had grabbed her because she refused to cancel a lunch with Richard. She had lied to the nurse. Correcting the lie now wouldn’t change the old record; it would create a new statement subject to scrutiny.
Maya arranged an appearance so Rebecca could give a detailed statement to investigators in the presence of her attorney. Rebecca described the bruised arm, the broken door in the nursery, the reckless driving, the financial control, and how Trevor listened outside the door during her online therapy sessions.
“Why didn’t you report this at the time?” Officer Ortiz asked.
“Because every incident seemed small once it was over.”
“Did Trevor ever threaten to kill you?”
“No.”
“Did he threaten to take Emma away from you?”
“Yes.”
“What did he say?”
“That no judge would give a child to a woman who couldn’t survive without her father’s money.”
“Did he mention having proof?”
Rebecca looked at the photograph of the bathroom floor. “He said he had proof of what I was really like.”
The police requested a search warrant to examine Trevor’s devices and cloud accounts for evidence of the assault, unauthorized surveillance, and potential financial crimes. Search warrants were limited in scope and required probable cause—Richard’s lawyers couldn’t simply demand access.
The family home remained sealed. Rebecca was permitted to return under police escort to collect clothing, pregnancy records, Emma’s favorite blanket, and essential personal belongings.
She walked in accompanied by an officer and a social worker. The light blue living room was clean. The blood was gone. The sofa cushions were arranged. Only a faint mark remained on the carpet where the fragment of tooth had fallen.
Rebecca’s body remembered before her mind did. Her knees buckled. The social worker asked if she wanted to step outside.
“No.”
She gathered Emma’s clothes from her nursery. Inside the white noise machine on the dresser, something rattled loose. Rebecca unplugged it and showed it to the officer.
May you like
A small slot had been cut into the rear plastic casing. Inside was a memory card.
Rebecca stared at it. “I didn’t put that there.”
