Chapter 13 - The Garden TapePolice eventually found a second recording.
Not from Lacey.
From an exterior security camera Warren had forgotten existed.
The camera did not capture the exact garden area.
A tree blocked most of the view.
But audio carried.
At 8:09 a.m., Warren’s voice:
“Where is the phone?”
Lacey crying.
“I don’t know.”
“Stop lying.”
“I’m not.”
“Where is it?”
Then:
“You’re going to stay quiet until I figure this out.”
Gloria stopped breathing as she listened.
The next sounds were harder to identify.
Movement.
A car door.
Footsteps.
Then silence.
No full visual evidence of what Warren did.
But the audio undercut his claim that Lacey voluntarily entered the suitcase.
At 8:17, Lacey’s brief call to Gloria connected.
Investigators reconstructed what likely happened.
Lacey had another device.
An old smartwatch capable of calls over Wi-Fi.
Warren took her phone but forgot the watch.
Inside the suitcase, before Warren moved it outside, Lacey called Gloria.
Eleven seconds.
Enough.
Warren heard something.
The call ended.
He removed the watch.
Police later found it beneath a cabinet in the garage.
Gloria stared at the recovered device.
Lacey had created her own rescue line.
Not intentionally heroic.
She had simply reached for the person she trusted.
The prosecution’s case strengthened.
Warren’s attorney reopened plea discussions.
This time all major charges were on the table.
Child endangerment.
Unlawful restraint.
Financial fraud.
Forgery-related offenses.
Misappropriation.
The exact final charges would depend on negotiations.
Gloria asked Claire:
“Would Lacey have to testify?”
“If there’s a trial, possibly.”
That terrified Gloria more than sentencing length.
Lacey’s forensic interview was strong.
The recordings helped.
But a defense lawyer might still cross-examine her if the case went before a jury.
Gloria wanted Warren punished.
She wanted Lacey protected more.
Those goals could conflict.
Elaine said:
“Do not decide for prosecutors.”
“I know.”
“And do not pressure Lacey toward a plea or trial.”
“I know.”
“You say that while planning to do both.”
Gloria glared.
Elaine smiled slightly.
They waited.
Meanwhile Lacey asked to visit Marissa’s grave.
She had not gone since the garden.
Gloria drove her.
They brought no flowers.
Lacey chose a small polished stone.
She placed it beside the headstone.
“Hi, Mom.”
Gloria stepped away.
She could still hear.
“Dad did something really bad.”
Lacey paused.
“Grandma says you knew he had problems.”
Another pause.
“You should’ve told me.”
Gloria’s throat tightened.
Lacey sat in the grass.
“I still miss him sometimes. That’s stupid.”
Gloria almost interrupted.
She didn’t.
Lacey continued.
“I miss you more.”
A breeze moved through the trees.
No magical sign.
No bird landing dramatically.
Just wind.
Reality.
On the drive home, Lacey asked:
“Do you think Mom can hear me?”
Gloria said, “I don’t know.”
“Most grandmas would say yes.”
“I’m an irritating grandma.”
Lacey smiled.
“I know.”
The honesty seemed comforting.
That evening, Gloria received an email forwarded through Elaine.
Warren wanted to sell his interest in another business to fund restitution.
“He’s trying to look cooperative,” Gloria said.
Elaine nodded.
“He may also genuinely need money.”
“Does it matter why?”
“For the restitution, less than whether the money arrives.”
Another lesson.
Motives mattered.
Outcomes also mattered.
Warren could perform responsibility and still repay victims.
One did not cancel the other.
The sale generated $230,000.
Most was frozen for legal claims.
Lacey’s trust would eventually recover a significant portion of confirmed losses.
Money might come back.
Trust would not return on the same schedule.
That distinction followed Gloria everywhere.
At home, the garden had finally been reseeded.
Small green shoots covered the former disturbed patch.
Lacey stood at the window.
“It looks normal.”
“Do you like that?”
“I think so.”
“You can change it.”
Lacey shook her head.
“No flowers.”
“No flowers.”
“Maybe later.”
“Maybe.”
Not forever.
May you like
Just not now.
Gloria learned to respect temporary answers.
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