As they slid the backboard beside me, Detective James Morrison walked through the side gate.
I knew him only in the loose way people know local detectives from charity breakfasts and courthouse hallways.
He had gray at his temples, a dark tie loosened at the neck, and eyes that did not waste movement.
He looked first at the broken railing.
Then at my body on the rocks.
Then at Tyler.
Tyler’s face drained so fast even Lauren turned to stare at him.
Inside the house, Marcus had still not come back.
Detective Morrison did not raise his voice.
He asked, “Who accessed the security panel after the fall?”
No one answered.
The speaker kept playing.
The patio lights clicked on even though it was not dark yet.
Sarah leaned close and said, “Stay with me, Bridget.”
I tried to nod.
I could not.
Detective Morrison’s partner came out of the house holding a small black device in a clear evidence bag.
At first I thought it was part of the camera system.
Then Tyler made a sound.
Not loud.
Not even a word.
Just enough.
Lauren heard it too, and her hand dropped from Mason’s shoulder.
The device was Tyler’s phone.
Morrison looked at the screen.
His jaw tightened once.
“Tyler,” he said, “before you say another word, you need to explain why this video starts before Bridget hit the railing.”
Diane stopped crying.
Harold turned toward Tyler with a confusion so naked it almost looked like innocence.
Lauren whispered, “What video?”
Tyler looked at Marcus, who had finally appeared in the back doorway.
Marcus’s face was gray.
He held one hand up, palm open, as if surrendering before anyone had accused him.
“I didn’t delete it,” Marcus said.
Tyler stared at him.
“You said you would.”
The whole backyard heard it.
The words landed harder than any accusation I could have made.
Detective Morrison stepped between Tyler and the house.