The Voicemail Plays
The recorder clicked, and Roger’s voice filled the room first. “Kim, it’s me. I saved this old message. You should hear it.” A beep sounded, followed immediately by another voice—Jacob’s. “Listen, if you show up again, I’ll ruin you. I’ll call your boss. I’ll make sure you don’t get near her. Walk away.” Silence fell, then Roger’s voice returned. “That’s what I got for trying.” The clip ended abruptly. I didn’t move, my eyes locked on the device, while Mr. Dwyer stared at the recorder in stunned silence. No one spoke.
The Voicemail Plays
Shock Around The Table
Chairs shifted nervously as the room absorbed the recording. Mr. Dwyer set his papers down, breaking the tension. “We will pause,” he said carefully. Greg spoke, voice steady but firm. “Jacob, is that you?” Jacob’s face hardened. “That’s edited,” he said defensively. Donnie shook his head. “It’s one file straight from the carrier archive,” he explained, his tone calm but resolute. Laura pointed at the recorder, her eyes sharp. “I know that voice,” she said. A woman near the back whispered, “Play it again.” Mr. Dwyer raised his hand, silencing her. “Once is enough. We heard it.” I folded my arms and waited, my gaze unwavering, while Jacob stared at the table, caught in the undeniable weight of the evidence.
Shock Around The Table
