Chapter 6 - What the Camera Saw
I didn't blink. I didn't breathe. My hands gripped the edges of my desk so hard the veneer creaked under my palms.
On the screen, Brent was the first to burst into the room from the kitchen, holding a carving knife, followed immediately by Jocelyn and Beverly. Grant emerged from his study down the hall, his face dark with confusion.
The tree lay on its side, pine needles and shattered glass blanketing the rug. Hallie was pinned beneath the midsection of the tree, struggling to push a heavy branch off her bruised legs.
Camden was standing five feet away. The moment his father entered the room, the boy’s expression transformed with terrifying speed.
He dropped the controller behind his back, kicked it with his heel until it slid completely under the pleated skirt of the velvet armchair, and screwed his face up into an agonizing mask of tears.
*"Mom! Dad!"* Camden wailed, throwing himself toward Jocelyn. *"She did it! She went crazy!"*
Jocelyn caught him in her arms, dropping to her knees on the unsoiled part of the carpet. *"What happened?! Camden, baby, are you hurt?!"*
Hallie managed to crawl out from beneath the branches, coughing, pine sap smeared across her hands, her tights already tearing at the knees. *"Grandma! The drone—"*
*"She threw a pillow at the tree!"* Camden screamed, pointing a trembling, theatrical finger at Hallie. *"I told her she couldn't play with my iPad because she was sticky, and she got mad and started screaming that I get everything and she gets nothing! She grabbed the throw pillow and threw it right at the top of the tree, and when it hit the branches, she pulled the cord! She wanted to smash my presents!"*
Hallie scrambled to her feet, her voice cracking in hysterical disbelief. *"I didn't! Camden, you're lying! You flew the drone! It’s in the tree! Look at the tree, it’s stuck in the branches!"*
Brent stepped toward the fallen tree. He looked directly at the center boughs.
Through the high-resolution feed of the camera, the wide lens captured Brent’s face clearly. He reached into the branches, his hand closing around the gray plastic body of the drone. He pulled it free from the tangled garland.
He looked down at the machine. Then he looked at Camden.
Camden gave his father a look of desperate, terrified pleading.
Brent didn't hesitate. Without a word to anyone, he turned his back to Hallie, walked briskly toward the hallway closet, slipped the drone into his winter coat pocket, and zipped it shut.
Then he walked back into the living room, his face hardened into an expression of cold, righteous fury.
*"There’s no drone here, Hallie,"* Brent said, his voice ringing through the house. *"Stop lying."*
*"What?!"* Hallie shrieked, tears pouring down her cheeks. *"Uncle Brent, you just took it! You put it in your coat! Grandma, he put it in his coat!"*
Beverly walked into the center of the debris. She didn't look at Hallie. She didn't look at Camden. She walked directly to the shattered remnants of the porcelain nativity set.
She knelt down, picked up the headless torso of the porcelain angel, and stood up slowly. Her face was not red with anger; it was dead white with a venomous, aristocratic malice.
*"My great-grandmother brought this from Munich,"* Beverly said, her voice dropping into a register that made the hair on my arms stand up. *"It survived the crossing. It survived eighty years in this house. And a fatherless, ill-mannered brat has smashed it to pieces out of petty spite."*
*"Grandma, please!"* Hallie sobbed, reaching out toward her. *"I swear on my life! I was trying to stop it from falling!"*
*"Don't you dare touch me,"* Beverly hissed, stepping back as if Hallie were covered in filth. *"You are a liar. Just like your father was a liar, and just like your mother has been a liar every day she pretends she is too good for this family."*
Grant stepped forward, looking uncomfortable. *"Beverly, let's calm down. The child is nine. Accidents happen—"*
*"This was not an accident, Grant!"* Jocelyn shrieked, clutching Camden against her chest like a martyr. *"She could have killed Camden! That tree weighs eighty pounds! Look at my son, he is shaking! She attacked our family because she is jealous! She has always been jealous of Camden!"*
Beverly turned to Jocelyn. Her eyes were bright with a terrifying resolve.
*"Get the marker from your father’s toolbox,"* Beverly commanded.
Grant blinked, his brow furrowing. *"Now, Beverly, wait a minute—"*
*"I said get the marker, Jocelyn!"* Beverly snapped, her voice cutting through the room like a whip. *"And bring me a piece of cardboard from the garage. If Claire will not teach this child what happens to deceivers, then this house will."*
Hallie tried to run toward the front door.
Brent stepped in front of her, blocking the exit with his large frame. He grabbed Hallie by both upper arms, lifting her off her feet, and carried her kicking and crying toward the kitchen.
*"Let me go! I want my mom! Call my mom!"* Hallie screamed.
*"Your mother isn't here to save you, little girl,"* Brent growled into her ear. *"And when she gets here, she’s going to see exactly what you are."*
The camera captured Beverly following them into the kitchen corridor, holding the black chisel-tip Sharpie in her right hand, uncapping it with a sharp, plastic *snap*.
The microphone picked up the muffled, agonizing sounds from the kitchen.
Hallie’s desperate, pleading cries: *"No! Grandma, please, no! It hurts! Stop, please stop!"*
Beverly’s cold, rhythmic instructions: *"Hold her head still, Brent. Hold her chin. Stop squirming, Hallie. You wanted to make sure everyone saw your tantrum? Now they will see your character. **L-I-A-R.** There. Now write the sign, Jocelyn. Use the red ribbon."*
And then, Camden’s voice.
The eleven-year-old was left alone in the living room for thirty seconds while the adults were in the kitchen.
The camera caught Camden walking toward the archway. He peeked around the corner, listening to Hallie’s muffled sobs.
Then, Camden turned back toward the room, looked directly at the mess of the fallen tree, and grinned.
May you like
He reached into his pocket, pulled out his phone, and snapped a selfie with the destroyed Christmas tree in the background, flashing a peace sign before sliding the phone back into his fleece pocket.
***
