My sister put the phone into my hand.
For several seconds, I couldn’t bring myself to press play.
The screen showed a frozen image from the shed. I could see part of the wooden beam, the doorway, and the edge of my husband’s jacket.
My daughter had recorded more than I realized.
“Listen carefully,” my sister said. “You don’t have to watch everything. Just listen.”
I pressed play.
At first, there was only the sound of movement and my husband’s angry voice.
Then my mother-in-law spoke.
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