CHAPTER 6 THE MOTHER WHO LIED
The name stayed on Detective Brooks' screen long after everyone else had gone home.
CROWKEEPER.
No real name.
No address.
No phone number.
Just an encrypted cloud account that had received more than eighty videos from Lorraine over the past two months.
The oldest upload was dated...
Forty-eight hours before Maren's strange cravings began.
Brooks folded her arms.
"This wasn't random."
Someone had been watching Maren long before anyone suspected something was wrong.
The cybercrime analyst looked over another report.
"I recovered the deleted messages."
"Can you identify CROWKEEPER?"
"Not yet."
"But whoever it is..."
He enlarged the screen.
"...they gave Lorraine instructions."
One message after another appeared.
Record everything.
Another.
Don't confront her.
Another.
We need proof.
Brooks frowned.
"Proof of what?"
The analyst opened the next message.
Wait until Owen sees her eating dirt.
Then another.
Don't interfere.
Another.
Let it happen naturally.
The room fell silent.
Someone had wanted Owen to discover Maren in the worst possible way.
At the hospital...
Morning sunlight crept through the blinds.
For the first time in nearly four days...
I felt something.
A faint flutter.
Tiny.
So gentle I almost convinced myself I'd imagined it.
I froze.
"Owen..."
He looked up immediately.
"What?"
"I think..."
I pressed my hand against my stomach.
"I think she moved."
We both waited.
One second.
Five.
Ten.
Then...
Tap.
A tiny kick.
So soft that only I could feel it.
Tears instantly filled my eyes.
"She kicked."
Owen laughed and cried at the same time.
"Our girl's fighting."
Dr. Carter hurried in after hearing the excitement.
She smiled as she checked the monitor.
"That's exactly what I wanted to hear."
The baby's heartbeat remained strong.
The blood flow had improved slightly after two days of treatment.
It wasn't a miracle.
But it was progress.
Real progress.
Across town...
Lorraine's attorney arrived at the police station.
The interview resumed.
Detective Brooks placed a printed sheet on the table.
"You've been sending videos to an account called CROWKEEPER."
Lorraine's face remained expressionless.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
Brooks slid another page forward.
Internet logs.
Upload times.
IP addresses.
Every transfer traced directly to Lorraine's phone.
"Would you like to try again?"
Lorraine looked at the evidence.
Then quietly sighed.
"I never met him."
"Him?"
"So CROWKEEPER is a man."
Lorraine immediately realized her mistake.
She looked away.
Brooks noticed.
"You've just confirmed more than you intended."
Lorraine closed her eyes.
"It started online."
"When?"
"Three months ago."
"How did you meet?"
"He contacted me after I posted videos."
"What kind of videos?"
"Family drama."
"He said they got millions of views."
Brooks remained silent.
"He offered to help my channel grow."
"How?"
"He said people don't watch happy families."
Her voice became quieter.
"They watch scandals."
Flashback.
Three months earlier.
Lorraine sat alone in her apartment surrounded by unpaid bills.
Credit card notices.
Past-due rent.
Collection letters.
Her phone buzzed.
A direct message from an account she didn't recognize.
CROWKEEPER
Your videos have potential.
She replied.
Thanks.
Seconds later...
Real emotion gets clicks.
Find stories nobody can ignore.
Days became weeks.
The stranger analyzed every upload.
Every title.
Every thumbnail.
He taught her how to increase outrage.
How to edit videos.
How to manipulate viewers.
Then one day...
He asked a different question.
Is anyone in your family pregnant?
Lorraine answered.
My sister-in-law.
His reply came almost instantly.
Perfect.
Back in the interrogation room...
Detective Brooks leaned forward.
"What did he ask you to do?"
Lorraine swallowed.
"Film her."
"Only film her?"
"At first."
"And later?"
"He wanted... strange behavior."
"What kind?"
Lorraine looked ashamed.
"He said pregnant women sometimes develop unusual cravings."
Brooks frowned.
"He specifically mentioned cravings?"
Lorraine nodded.
"He told me to watch for them."
"Why?"
"I don't know."
Brooks didn't believe that.
Neither did Lorraine.
At the hospital...
Dr. Carter returned with another folder.
"I have the pharmacy report."
Owen looked up.
"What did they find?"
"The counterfeit vitamins weren't sold through legitimate stores."
"We know that."
She nodded.
"But there's something else."
She opened the laboratory analysis.
"The tablets weren't only missing nutrients."
She pointed toward a highlighted section.
"They contained bentonite clay."
I blinked.
"The same type sometimes found in..."
"...garden soil."
Dr. Carter finished the sentence.
"It has a distinct earthy smell."
The realization spread through the room.
"The pills..." I whispered.
"...smelled like dirt."
Dr. Carter nodded.
"Yes."
My hands began shaking.
For weeks...
Every morning...
I'd swallowed tablets that smelled faintly of wet earth.
The same scent that later became impossible to resist.
Dr. Carter spoke carefully.
"We don't know if that smell contributed to your cravings."
"But it certainly didn't help."
Owen stared at the report.
"So whoever made those pills..."
"...didn't just fake vitamins."
"They made something dangerous."
That afternoon...
Detective Brooks received another call.
This time from the forensic accountant assigned to the case.
"We traced Lorraine's payments."
"To CROWKEEPER?"
"Yes."
"How much?"
"Not much."
"Then what?"
"She wasn't paying him."
A pause.
"He was paying her."
Brooks reached for a pen.
"How much?"
"The first payment was five hundred dollars."
Then another.
"One thousand."
Then another.
"Three thousand."
Each payment increased after a new video was uploaded.
Brooks asked the question she already feared.
"Total?"
"Almost..."
The accountant checked the spreadsheet.
"...sixty thousand dollars."
Brooks stared at the figure.
Lorraine hadn't been documenting Maren's suffering because she hated her.
She'd been selling it.
That evening...
Owen walked into Lorraine's interrogation room.
Detective Brooks had arranged a supervised meeting.
Lorraine looked up hopefully.
"Owen..."
He remained standing.
His face showed neither anger nor hatred.
Only exhaustion.
"I have one question."
She nodded eagerly.
"Anything."
He placed his phone on the table.
On the screen was the garage video.
The one she'd recorded instead of helping.
"When Maren collapsed..."
His voice broke.
"...why did you keep filming?"
Lorraine stared at the screen.
Tears slowly filled her eyes.
"I..."
She couldn't answer.
Because there was no answer that could erase what she'd done.
Owen picked up the phone.
Turned toward the door.
Then stopped.
Without looking back, he asked one final question.
"Did you ever love her..."
"...or was she just content?"
Lorraine covered her face.
For the first time since her arrest...
She began to sob.
But Owen never turned around.
He simply walked out.
May you like
And the heavy steel door closed between them with a final, echoing click.
End of Chapter 6
