Chapter 8: The Recording Derek Kept
Scott read Audrey's message several times.
Derek recorded part of our conversation.
I could barely make myself ask the next question.
"How does Audrey know that?""
Scott shook his head.
"I don't know.""
I typed a reply.
Sweetheart, did you see the recording yourself?
The answer came after a few minutes.
Yes. I saw it on his phone.
Then another message appeared.
He told the other person it was insurance.
I felt cold.
Insurance.
The word suggested planning.
Preparation.
A reason to preserve something that could later be used to influence what people said or did.
But we still didn't know what the recording contained, whether it had been edited, or why Derek had kept it.
I refused to let my fear fill in those gaps.
I needed Audrey to know that we would take her seriously without demanding that she solve the entire mystery for us.
I typed carefully.
Thank you for telling me. You don't have to get the recording or investigate anything yourself. We can find a safe way to handle this with help from people who know what to do.
She replied almost immediately.
Please don't tell him I told you.
I answered.
We won't confront him. We won't ask you to meet him. You're not responsible for finding proof.
Then I added something I wished I'd said weeks earlier.
You don't have to earn our protection by proving every detail.
For several minutes, there was no response.
Then Audrey sent a single heart.
I stared at the screen until my eyes filled with tears.
Scott reached across the table and covered my hand with his.
"We need professional advice," he said.
I nodded.
We contacted a lawyer recommended by someone we trusted, explained the situation without making claims we couldn't verify, and asked how to proceed without putting Audrey under additional pressure.
The lawyer advised us to preserve every message, photograph, and relevant document.
We were told not to delete anything, alter the images, or try to obtain the recording ourselves.
We also discussed how to support Audrey if she wanted to speak with a qualified professional or make a formal report.
The advice was practical.
It was calm.
And it gave us something we'd desperately needed since the first conversation with Ms. Alvarez.
A way to move forward without acting out of panic.
Scott saved the messages from Derek.
I stored the photograph and the attendance records.
We made a timeline of what we knew and separated it from what we suspected.
The distinction was important.
We knew Audrey had become frightened.
We knew she'd stopped attending ballet regularly.
We knew Derek had sent the photograph and made statements that raised serious questions.
We knew Audrey said another person had pressured her and that Derek had recorded part of a conversation.
But we didn't yet know the full content of that recording.
We didn't know whether Derek had kept it for the reason Audrey believed.
And we didn't know what the other person intended to accomplish.
Those questions needed answers.
But not at the expense of Audrey's safety.
That evening, Scott asked me to sit with him in the living room.
He looked exhausted.
"I need to tell you the whole story about the investment," he said.
I sat opposite him.
"All right.""
He took a folder from the drawer beneath the television.
Inside were printed emails, financial projections, and a proposal bearing the name of Derek's company.
"I didn't tell you about this because I never invested," he explained.
"I thought there was no reason to worry you over something I'd already decided against.""
I opened the folder.
The proposal described a business project involving property development and a series of private investors.
The projected returns were unusually high.
The promised timeline was short.
And the financial details were vague in several important places.
"I didn't like the numbers," Scott continued.
"I asked Derek for more documentation, but he kept telling me the opportunity was moving quickly and that I needed to decide before someone else took my place.""
"What did you say?""
"I told him I wasn't interested.""
I looked up.
"Did he get angry?""
"Not at first. He joked that I was too cautious. Then he started asking whether you and I had discussed our long-term plans.""
My stomach tightened.
"Why would he need to know that?""
"That's what bothered me. He asked whether we were planning to sell the house, whether we'd considered investing in rental property, and whether we had money set aside for Audrey's education.""
I thought of the questions Audrey had described.
The questions about our finances.
The questions about our marriage.
The questions about whether we planned to move or change jobs.
"Did you tell him any of that?""
"Some things. Not details about our accounts. Just ordinary conversation.""
Scott stared at the documents.
"At the time, I thought he was trying to persuade me to invest. I didn't realize he might be asking Audrey similar questions.""
I turned another page.
There was a list of potential investors.
Scott's name appeared near the bottom.
Beside it was a handwritten note.
Family connection. Long-term trust.
I felt a chill.
"What does this mean?""
Scott leaned forward.
He read the note.
His expression changed.
"I don't know.""
He took the folder from me and examined the page more closely.
"That's not my handwriting.""
"Whose is it?""
He shook his head.
"The proposal came from Derek's office. I don't know who wrote this.""
I stared at the words.
Family connection.
Long-term trust.
They sounded less like financial notes and more like a strategy.
I remembered Derek telling us he was practically family.
I remembered how relieved I'd felt when he offered to drive Audrey to Fernwick.
I remembered thanking him for helping us solve a problem that had seemed impossible.
Had our trust made us useful to him?
Had our family connection been something he considered an advantage?
I didn't know.
But I could no longer dismiss the possibility.
Scott took out his phone.
"I need to call the lawyer again.""
He explained what we'd found and asked whether the documents might be relevant.
The lawyer told us to preserve the original materials and avoid contacting anyone connected to the project until we'd received further advice.
Scott thanked him.
When the call ended, he sat quietly.
"I keep thinking about how many times Derek told me he was doing things because we were family.""
I reached for his hand.
"Maybe he believed it.""
"Then why does it feel like he was keeping track of what we could do for him?""
I had no answer.
We spent the next hour organizing the documents.
Then, at nine-fifteen, Scott's phone rang.
Derek.
Scott looked at me.
I shook my head.
He let it ring.
A voicemail appeared moments later.
Scott played it on speaker.
Derek's voice filled the room.
"Hey, man. I know things have gotten complicated. I think we need to sit down and talk like adults. There are things Claire doesn't understand, and I don't want this to damage our friendship over a misunderstanding.""
A pause.
"Call me when you get this.""
The message ended.
Scott looked at me.
"There it is again.""
"What?""
"He keeps talking about our friendship.""
I nodded.
"Not Audrey.""
Scott replayed the message once.
Then he saved it.
A few minutes later, another message arrived.
This one was from the person Audrey had identified.
I recognized the name immediately.
The message was addressed to Scott.
We need to discuss what Audrey has been saying. She is putting everyone in a difficult position, and I think you should hear the full story before you make any decisions.
Scott read it silently.
I watched his expression harden.
"How did they get your number?"" I asked.
"They've had it for years.""
"Have they ever contacted you directly about Audrey before?""
"No.""
He put the phone down.
The message had the same pattern as Derek's.
It didn't explain what had happened.
It didn't ask whether Audrey was safe.
It focused on the trouble she was supposedly causing.
I took a breath.
"We need to be careful not to let them turn this into a debate about whether Audrey is a good person.""
Scott nodded.
"You're right.""
He opened a new message, typed a few words, and then stopped.
"What are you doing?"" I asked.
"Nothing. I was going to tell them we won't discuss this until we have proper advice.""
He deleted the message.
"Actually, I don't think we should reply at all.""
I felt relief.
For the first time, we were making decisions based on what would protect our daughter rather than what might preserve our relationships.
The next morning, Audrey agreed to meet us.
She chose a public place near the library, and she asked that neither of us bring up the recording until she was ready.
We arrived early.
Scott bought her favorite pastry from a nearby bakery.
I brought a bottle of water and the cardigan she'd left at home.
When Audrey appeared, I barely recognized the way she carried herself.
Her shoulders were tense.
Her eyes moved constantly, checking the people around her.
She looked exhausted.
But she came toward us.
That alone felt like a small miracle.
I stood and opened my arms.
She hesitated for half a second.
Then she stepped into the hug.
I held her carefully, afraid that if I squeezed too tightly, she'd pull away.
"I'm sorry," I whispered.
She pressed her face against my shoulder.
"Me too.""
"You have nothing to apologize for.""
She didn't answer.
Scott approached slowly.
"Can I hug you, sweetheart?""
Audrey nodded.
He wrapped his arms around her, and she began crying again.
"I'm sorry I didn't listen," he said.
She clutched the back of his shirt.
"I thought you wouldn't believe me.""
Scott closed his eyes.
"I should never have made you feel that way.""
We sat together for nearly an hour.
Audrey told us more about the weeks leading up to the incident.
She described the questions Derek had asked during their drives and how he had gradually made her feel responsible for keeping his confidence.
She explained that the other person had approached her with offers of help, then became angry when she refused to discuss our finances.
She said Derek had repeatedly promised to explain things to us himself.
Each time, he delayed.
Each time, Audrey became more frightened.
And each time, she felt less able to tell us directly.
"I thought if I could just get him to talk to you," she said, "everything would go back to normal.""
I reached across the table and took her hand.
"You don't have to fix this.""
"But I wanted to.""
"I know.""
"I wanted ballet back.""
Her eyes filled.
"I wanted to stop being scared every time a car pulled up outside the house.""
Scott looked down, his face crumpling.
Audrey wiped her cheeks.
"After that night, I didn't want to go to the studio anymore because I was afraid he'd be waiting there. I didn't want to get into another car with him. I didn't want to explain why I was late or why I was crying.""
I squeezed her hand.
"You don't have to go back until you feel ready.""
She looked at me.
"Even if I lose my scholarship?""
"We'll figure that out.""
"Even if I never dance there again?""
I swallowed.
"Even then.""
She stared at me for a long moment.
Then she nodded.
For the first time, I saw a little of the girl who used to practice in our kitchen.
Not the carefree smile.
Not the excitement.
Just the smallest sign that she might be beginning to believe us.
Before we left, Audrey told us one more thing.
"The recording wasn't just of me talking to the other person.""
Scott leaned forward.
"What else was on it?""
She looked at him.
"Derek told them to record the conversation before I even got into the car.""
My stomach dropped.
"How do you know?""
"Because I heard him say it.""
She took a shaky breath.
"He said they needed something they could use if anyone asked questions later.""
Scott went completely still.
Audrey looked from him to me.
"I don't think they were trying to help me with ballet.""
Her voice trembled.
"I think they wanted something from our family, and they thought I could help them get it.""
I felt the blood drain from my face.
Because the documents in Scott's folder had suggested the same possibility.
But now our daughter was telling us that the recording itself might have been part of a plan.
May you like
And if she was right, the question was no longer simply what had happened during that drive.
It was what Derek and the other person had intended to do with the information they'd gathered.
