The Livestream That Exposed a Corpse

Wendy's eyes flickered at the drunk's line.

She bit down on her teeth, dug into her pocket, pulled her phone out, and turned the screen at the camera.

"You want to call me a liar. I have proof."

It was a piece of hospital surveillance from three days ago.

A woman walked into frame.

Hair loose around her shoulders. Fruit knife in her right hand.

It was supposed to be me. May Fairfax.

The footage had me with murder on my face, kicking a hospital room door open, walking straight to the bed.

Then in one motion, the knife came down across Wendy's belly.

Wendy's voice came out of the speakers, raw.

"Help! Somebody! She's killing my baby!"

The pitch of it could have cut glass.

The nurse station lights started flashing. White coats came running into the frame.

In the video, I turned and ran. The end of the corridor swallowed me.

The footage cut.

The chat lost its mind.

[Holy sh*t! She actually did it!]

[What is there left to debate? The proof is right there! May is a murderer!]

[Wendy, that poor woman... Her own sister-in-law cut her open, and the baby is gone!]

[Death penalty! She deserves nothing less!]

Wendy held the phone with shaking hands. The tears were running down her face.

"Did you all see that? May killed my son with her own hands."

She turned to the drunk. Her voice scraped.

"Now tell me I'm lying. I don't care if she paid you off, or if you've been sleeping with her. I am asking you one question. Do you have any humanity left at all?"

The drunk stared at the phone screen and frowned.

He said it flat. "That video is fake."

Tristan looked like he had heard the world's worst joke. The corner of his mouth pulled into something ugly.

"Fake? This is surveillance pulled out of a top hospital.

"Do you have any idea who you are accusing right now? Do you have any idea how much equipment Crowley Group donates to that hospital every year?"

Marshall shook his head. He gave a small, dry laugh. "A vagrant. Can't afford a meal. But you can authenticate video now. What's next, you think it's AI?"

The chat piled on.

[I'm dying. Is this drunk crazy?!]

[Hospital security can't be faked. Who do you think you are?]

[Shut his mouth! May Fairfax must have paid him! What's your number, I'll double it]

[Honestly, is he sleeping with her too?]

Then Wendy let out a long, awful wail.

Both her hands found her hair. She started slamming her head into the wall.

"Why won't you believe me? I gave you the proof! Do you want me to die? Do you want me to die in this house before you'll listen?"

Her forehead struck the cracked plaster with a dull thud.

Tristan went pale. He crossed the room in two strides and locked her down from behind.

"Wendy, stop! I believe you! I believe you, please!"

She thrashed in his arms. Tears and snot were running down her face.

"Nobody believes me! The drunk says I'm lying. Some of the chat is starting to doubt. You all think I'm acting, don't you?"

Marshall picked his cue.

"Ms. Crowley. With me here, May Fairfax does not get away. A few people running their mouths means nothing. The law works on evidence. Your evidence is overwhelming."

He paused. He gave the drunk a flat look.

"I'd suggest some people learn to keep their mouths shut. Defamation is also a crime."

A bodyguard took the cue. He crossed the floor and put a boot in the drunk's ribs.

"Talking out of turn. A beggar like you. Where do you get the nerve?"

The drunk made a small sound and folded against the wall.

The chat cheered.

[Good! That's what he gets!]

[Anyone defending a murderer deserves to get hit!]

[I bet he knows where she is. Drag him in, and make him talk!]

Tristan saw that line and was about to call for the drunk to be hauled away.

A police siren cut through the air.

His face changed. "Who called the police?"

He had wanted May to apologize. He hadn't wanted her in handcuffs.

The crew looked around. Nobody admitted to it.

Wendy caught the irritation in his face. Something dark flickered in her eyes and disappeared.

"It must have been the chat. Something this big, of course, someone called. Tristan, isn't this what we wanted? Let the police do their work. Let them lock her up. Justice for my baby."

Tristan did not answer. His jaw was tight.

The cruiser stopped. Three uniforms climbed out.

The lead officer checked the address against his notepad. He looked up at the gathered crew.

"Does anyone here know the woman who lives in this house. May Fairfax. She's been dead for a week."