Chapter 4 - THE SECRET GAME
The tablet belonged to my father.
Police confirmed it before midnight.
Its case contained a handwritten label with his initials, and the device automatically connected to my parents’ home security account when investigators powered it on.
Mom claimed she had found it inside Evan’s backpack.
Nobody believed her.
A detective took the device as evidence while hospital security escorted my mother and sister from the building. My sister screamed until the elevator doors closed.
“You’ll regret this, Rachel!”
The words echoed through the corridor.
I already regretted plenty.
I regretted every afternoon Evan had spent at that house.
Every holiday when Tyler had pulled him into another room.
Every time I had mistaken his silence for shyness.
But calling for help was not one of those regrets.
At nine the next morning, a forensic interviewer named Marisol Greene met with Evan in a child-friendly room at the county advocacy center. Police allowed me to watch from behind one-way glass but warned me not to react visibly.
I sat beside Dana with my hands clenched together.
Evan entered wearing soft gray sweatpants provided by the hospital and a zip-up jacket that was too large for him. He moved carefully because of his rib.
Marisol sat across from him at a small table covered in crayons and blank paper.
She did not ask, “Did Tyler hurt you?”
She asked him to explain what happened during visits to his grandparents’ house.
For several minutes, Evan talked about normal things.
Grandma’s pancakes.
Grandpa’s old train set.
The television in the basement.
Then Marisol asked whether anything happened there that made him uncomfortable.
Evan picked up a black crayon.
“Tyler had a game.”
“What was the game called?”
“The secret game.”
“What were the rules?”
Evan drew a square around a stick figure.
“I had to do what he said.”
“What would happen if you didn’t?”
“He would punish me.”
My fingernails dug into my palms.
Marisol’s voice never changed.
“What kind of punishment?”
“He would hit my arms where my shirt covered it. Or make me kneel on bottle caps. Sometimes he locked me in Grandpa’s storage closet.”
Dana shifted beside me.
“How long would you stay in the closet?”
“Until I apologized.”
“For what?”
“For making Tyler mad.”
Evan colored the square darker.
“Did any adults know about the secret game?”
He stopped drawing.
“Grandma knew.”
“How do you know?”
“She came downstairs once.”
“What happened?”
“She told Tyler not to leave marks on my face because Mom would notice.”
A sound escaped my throat.
Dana gripped my wrist.
Marisol waited.
“Did Grandpa know?”
Evan nodded.
“He saw the camera.”
“What camera?”
“The one in the basement.”
“Did he ever help you?”
“No.”
“Did he say anything?”
Evan’s lower lip trembled.
“He said Tyler would grow out of it.”
I closed my eyes.
My father had not merely ignored the abuse.
He had watched it through a camera.
Marisol gave Evan time to breathe.
“Did your aunt know?”
“Yes.”
“What did she say?”
“She said Tyler needed to practice being strong because his dad left.”
My sister’s ex-husband, Mark, had moved to Arizona three years earlier after a bitter divorce. According to her, he had abandoned them.
I had believed that too.
“What happened yesterday?” Marisol asked.
“Tyler wanted my watch.”
“Why?”
“He said his mom told him smartwatches were expensive and Aunt Rachel wastes money on me.”
I flinched at hearing my own name described from someone else’s mouth.
“I said no because Mom told me never to take it off when I was away from her.”
“Then what happened?”
“He tried to pull it off. I pushed his hand. He hit me in the face. I fell. He kicked me.”
“How many times?”
“Three.”
“Where were the adults?”
“Aunt Lauren was in the kitchen.”
My sister’s name sounded unfamiliar in that room.
“What did she do?”
“She came in after the second kick.”
“Did she stop him?”
“No.”
“What did she do?”
Evan’s eyes dropped.
“She took out her phone.”
Marisol paused.
“What did she do with the phone?”
“She filmed it.”
The air left my lungs.
Dana whispered, “Stay seated.”
“Why do you think she filmed it?” Marisol asked.
“She said Tyler needed proof I started it.”
“Did you start it?”
“No.”
“What happened to the video?”
“Aunt Lauren deleted it when she heard Mom’s car.”
My car.
Evan had meant my car.
He had recognized the sound of me pulling into the driveway and believed rescue was coming.
That was why they had panicked.
“Who cleaned the room?” Marisol asked.
“Grandma.”
“What did she clean?”
“The blood on the floor. And Tyler’s shoe.”
“Where did Grandpa go?”
“He took the camera box upstairs.”
“What did your aunt tell you?”
Evan finally looked toward the one-way glass, though I knew he could not see me.
“She said if I told Mom, Tyler would say I attacked him. And Grandma said Mom would believe them because grown-ups always believe other grown-ups.”
I pressed my fist against my mouth.
Marisol leaned forward slightly.
“What made you press the SOS button?”
Evan touched his wrist.
“Mom said it was for emergencies.”
“Did you believe this was an emergency?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I couldn’t breathe.”
The interview lasted another forty minutes.
By the time it ended, investigators had enough information to apply for expanded search warrants covering my parents’ security system, my sister’s phone and the basement storage area.
I met Officer Martinez in the advocacy center hallway.
“What happens now?”
“Tyler was released to temporary placement with his father pending a juvenile-court hearing.”
“His father came back?”
“He flew in overnight.”
I was stunned.
“Lauren said he had no contact with Tyler.”
“That appears to be false. They exchanged emails regularly. He claims your sister blocked phone calls and returned gifts.”
Another lie.
“How is Tyler?”
Martinez took a moment before answering.
“Angry. Frightened. He admitted kicking Evan but says he was told it was acceptable because Evan was ‘weak’ and needed to learn respect.”
I closed my eyes.
“He still needs consequences.”
“Yes.”
“But he also needs help.”
“Yes.”
The agreement did not make me feel better.
“What about my parents?”
“We recovered the deleted basement footage from the cloud provider.”
“How far back?”
“Eighteen months.”
My stomach twisted.
“Were there other videos?”
Martinez’s expression told me before he spoke.
“More than thirty incidents involving Evan.”
The hallway blurred.
Dana guided me into a chair.
Thirty.
Not moments.
Not suspicions.
Recorded incidents.
“How could they watch that?”
Martinez crouched in front of me.
“Rachel, some of the recordings show your mother entering during the incidents. Others show your father checking the live feed.”
“They knew everything.”
“Yes.”
“And they let me leave him there.”
“Yes.”
I wanted him to soften the truth.
He did not.
That was why I trusted him.
“We also found folders on the tablet,” he continued. “Your father saved clips under dates and initials.”
“Why save them?”
“We don’t know yet.”
A terrible possibility entered my mind.
“Was he collecting them?”
“We are investigating.”
My phone buzzed.
A message from an unknown number.
Rachel, this is Mark. Lauren’s ex-husband. We need to talk. She lied to you about why I left.
A second message arrived.
It contained an old photograph.
My sister stood in my parents’ basement beside Tyler, who looked about nine. My father was holding the same black tablet.
Behind them, written on a whiteboard, were three words:
CONTROL. FEAR. OBEDIENCE.
May you like
Mark sent one final message.
Your parents didn’t just allow the secret game. Your father designed it.
