The Longer The Fall Aviva Gat (scary books to read .txt) 📖

it, was a cassette tape, the kind people used to listen to before CDs or MP3 players took over. “What’s this?” Madeline asked, picking up the envelope. She was afraid to look inside because she instantly knew what this was. It had been two weeks since they first received the letter of blackmail. With the FBI failing to do their job, and her reelection launch coming up in just a few short weeks, there was only one thing this could be. The blackmailer would be applying pressure. They hadn’t followed the blackmailer’s directions and sent money. For all the blackmailer knew, they had completely ignored the requests.

Madeline held the envelope in her hands. Brandon had undoubtedly already looked at the picture inside. She could tell from the distress on his face. She tried to read his expression, it was one of fear, guilt, defeat. He sat quietly, his eyes on the envelope in Madeline’s hands, ignoring her question. Madeline’s fingers trembled, but she forced herself to pull the picture out. It was startling, she had never seen herself so exposed.

The picture showed Madeline from the waist up lying on her back, naked with her breasts exposed. Her body was arched, her chin pointed up and her eyes were closed. She wasn’t sleeping, that was obvious from her agape mouth and the way her arms were bent around her body; one up to her head pushing on the headboard behind her and the other reaching down, below the edge of the picture. The sheets she was lying on were a creamy white and the dark wooden headboard behind her was not the one in the Thomas’ master bedroom. Words escaped her, she couldn’t ask what this picture was or how it was taken. She had no questions because she knew there were no answers. All she could do was look at Brandon, who was still avoiding her eyeline.

“It must be photoshopped,” Brandon said quietly. “It can’t be real.” He said it like a challenge, and Madeline felt compelled to nod in agreement.

Surely anyone with basic knowledge of photoshop could easily put her head on a naked woman’s body and make the picture look real. They could easily search through the millions of pictures and videos of her online and find some facial expression that could be distorted to look this way. But there was one thing in the picture that caught Madeline’s eye. Right at the bottom of the picture, before it cut off, right below Madeline’s bellybutton, there was a faint line. A scar from her Cesarean section from when Adam was born. When she went into labor with him, the umbilical cord was wrapped around his neck and doctors decided to perform an emergency c-section to deliver him. Madeline remembered that day, the fear she felt, the anxiety. She didn’t care if they cut her in half, so long as the baby was safe. At first, she hated that scar, a reminder of the trauma of that day. But years later, the scar didn’t matter, it was just another part of her body, like her arm or her ear.

If someone had photoshopped the picture, they would have had to know about Madeline’s scar. With enough research, that wouldn’t have been too difficult. She had spoken about her c-section in interviews and the blackmailer could have easily added the scar to make the picture more realistic.

“What’s on the tape?” Madeline asked.

Brandon shrugged. “I haven’t listened to it. Do we even have a tape player?”

Madeline got up and walked to the home office she and Brandon had made for themselves when they moved in. They had designed an office with a large desk, big enough for a computer and extra monitor, and huge bookshelves and drawers for storage. However, over the years it became clear that they didn’t like working in the office. Madeline mostly worked from the kitchen and Brandon often worked on the couch. Working in the office, for both of them, felt like being banished. They only did it if they were in the way. Over the years, the office became more of a storage room. Madeline was sure there was a tape player somewhere in there. She walked inside and started fumbling through one of the drawers until she saw a Walkman, covered in dust. She picked it up and brought it to the kitchen. She tried to turn it on, but it didn’t work.

“What kind of person sends a tape?” Brandon asked, his tone angry and bitter. “Wouldn’t they know people can’t play these anymore?”

Madeline understood that tapes were the most secure option for a blackmailer. CDs and MP3s could be traced. Data stored could be interpreted and tracked back to where the files were copied or what type of computer was used. Tapes had no such options, being from the pre-smart technology age.

Madeline walked to the refrigerator where batteries were stored in the door. She switched the batteries in the old Walkman and then again tried to turn it on. It started clicking to life. She put the tape inside and pressed play, her mind screaming, afraid of what she could hear.

At first there was a crackle. Then a man’s voice. “Maddy, Maddy, I missed you so much.” Then silence. Brandon and Madeline didn’t say a word. They kept listening, as the tape crackled on.

“Is that it?” Brandon said. “This is fake, no one calls you Maddy.” Madeline hated being called Maddy. It made her feel like a little girl, a child. Even Brandon called her by her full name.

Suddenly the crackle on the tape turned back into the man’s voice. “I missed your smell, your voice. Most of all I missed kissing your little strawberry.” The voice turned back to crackle.

Brandon’s mouth dropped open. “Somebody has been spying on us!” Brandon threw his hands up to his head and he stood up. He started pacing around the kitchen. “Madeline.