On the screen, Mark laughed as he closed the cooler lid, then turned to the camera and raised his middle finger.
The room went completely silent.
“I think we have seen enough,” Mrs. Gable said, looking at my mother with a cold, distant expression.
“This is a private family matter,” my mother said, her voice rising to a shrill peak. “David, turn that off this instant.”
I shut the laptop lid, cutting the feed.
Mark caught up with me on the sidewalk outside, his leather shoes clicking on the dirty patches of ice.
“You think you won something in there?” he said, stepping in front of me to block my path to the subway.
He was tapping his phone screen against his palm, his greasy smile returning.
“I have three different videos of Maya from last summer,” Mark said, his voice low and dangerous. “She was crying on the kitchen floor. She looked completely unhinged.”
