Chapter 5: The Bride Asks For The Basket Back
Amanda appeared in the preparation-room doorway with one hand resting against the frame, as if she needed its support. The bright hallway behind her made the ivory structure of her dress look almost severe. Her blue-green eyes moved first to Sophie, then to the basket on the chair beside me, and finally to the phone sealed inside the evidence pouch.
She did not rush. That was what made the movement feel deliberate.
Sophie sat near the wall with her knees drawn together, her pigtails uneven from crying. I had placed the basket within sight but out of her reach, and Daniel stood between her and the doorway without seeming to understand that he had taken the position. He kept looking at Amanda, then at the pouch, as if the order might tell him which one to trust.
Amanda stepped into the room and extended her hand toward the basket.
Her expression held concern, not anger. She glanced at Sophie, lowered her brows, and then made a small, soothing motion toward the flower girl dress. The gesture might have meant that the child needed the basket back. It might have meant that the basket belonged with the wedding party. It might have meant nothing more than that Amanda wanted to make the request look harmless.
I covered the pouch with my palm.
Amanda stopped three feet away. Her hand remained raised for a moment before she lowered it. Then she pointed toward the hallway and made another careful gesture, indicating the adults beyond the room. She wanted the device moved somewhere private, away from the open doorway and away from Sophie.
I shook my head.
The refusal was quiet, but it changed the room. Amanda's face did not break. The calm smile stayed where she had placed it, though the muscles beside her mouth tightened. She looked past me to Daniel, inviting him to correct the boundary.
Daniel did not move.
Sophie watched Amanda from beneath wet lashes. When Amanda took one step closer, Sophie pressed her shoulder into the wall. I shifted between them and pulled the chair farther back. The basket's woven handle scraped softly against the floor. Sophie flinched at the sound, so I stopped and kept my hands visible.
The phone had already been documented, powered down, and placed in the pouch. Its partial files were not a conclusion, but they were more than a feeling. Giving it to Amanda would have removed the one thing none of us could replace: the original condition in which we had found it.
Amanda reached again, this time toward the pouch rather than the basket.
Daniel caught her wrist before her fingers touched it.
The motion was not violent. It was almost gentle. But Amanda stared at his hand as if he had crossed a line neither of them had expected to see.
He released her and turned toward the small schedule board near the dressing mirror. The ceremony time was written there among the preparation appointments. Daniel studied it for several seconds, then took the marker from its hook. He drew a single dark line through the next scheduled step.
The wedding was no longer proceeding normally.
Amanda's composure held, but her attention returned to the phone. That was the answer I had been waiting for—not proof of guilt, not an explanation, but a clear priority. She wanted control of the device before anyone else examined what it contained.
Daniel placed the marker down and pointed toward the closed side room adjoining the preparation area. He then pointed to me, to the pouch, and finally to Sophie. The meaning was unmistakable: private review, preserved evidence, and the child kept out of it.
I nodded.
Sophie remained seated while I moved beside her, blocking the doorway from view. Amanda stayed on the other side of the room. Daniel stood between us, divided by the evidence in my hand and the trust he had once carried without effort.
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Beyond the doorway, the preparation area continued in strained silence. The next part of the wedding waited, but no one entered it. Amanda looked at Daniel, and Daniel looked at the pouch.
Then he reached for the side-room handle.
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