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Back The Camera Never Lies Save as PDF
Chapters (54)
  1. Cover
  2. Epigraph
  3. One
  4. Two
  5. Three
  6. Four
  7. Five
  8. Six
  9. Seven
  10. Eight
  11. Nine
  12. Ten
  13. Eleven
  14. Twelve
  15. Thirteen
  16. Fourteen
  17. Fifteen
  18. Sixteen
  19. Seventeen
  20. Eighteen
  21. Nineteen
  22. Twenty
  23. Twenty-One
  24. Twenty-Two
  25. Twenty-Three
  26. Twenty-Four
  27. Twenty-Five
  28. Twenty-Six
  29. Twenty-Seven
  30. Twenty-Eight
  31. Twenty-Nine
  32. Thirty
  33. Thirty-One
  34. Thirty-Two
  35. Thirty-Three
  36. Thirty-Four
  37. Thirty-Five
  38. Thirty-Six
  39. Thirty-Seven
  40. Thirty-Eight
  41. Thirty-Nine
  42. Forty
  43. Forty-One
  44. Forty-Two
  45. Forty-Three
  46. Forty-Four
  47. Forty-Five
  48. Epilogue
  49. A Note from the Author
  50. Discussion Questions
  51. Acknowledgments
  52. About the Author
  53. Acclaim for David Rawlings
  54. Also by David Rawlings

Simon’s whisper floated across the counter with the whiff of chemicals. “If you’re thinking it would be easier to get rid of the camera rather than face your secrets, I would advise against it.”

But Daniel already knew this was the only door open to him.

Twenty-Nine

Daniel rested his chin on his arms as the camera stared him down from across his home desk, unblinking. He had to take control, in his own way. In his own time. He didn’t want to get rid of it—Gramps’s last gift—but it also couldn’t stay.

His plan unfolded like an origami tutorial. Lock the camera in Gramps’s briefcase, behind a combination known to him alone. Then he would sit in his office chair until inspiration for his second book came. He would confront Kelly and get her stuff out into the open, take Milly to see Anna, and put in more effort at home. Everyone at work would need to know the group photo didn’t work, and he would email Monique, clarifying their professional relationship in writing. Her recent absence had given him some much-needed breathing space anyway.

Daniel threw open the door to his closet and stared at the briefcase on the floor. Not that long ago the dusty leather and burnished silver were a treasured gift. He opened the clasps with a thunk. A wave of sadness washed over him, carried on a tide of drifting Old Spice.

Daniel turned the camera over in his hands, still unable to comprehend the events of the past few days. A camera that revealed truth? It hadn’t revealed truth about Kelly or Milly in those other two photos.

He reached into the briefcase and pulled out the faded red album, and then he flicked through the pages, scanning for truth. He examined the photos of Gramps’s friends. Fingers splayed in front of a computer screen; though out of focus, enough flesh showed between them to suggest the type of website being visited. A curl of cigarette smoke winding its way out from behind an older woman as she watched her grandchildren from a doorway.

Then a thought. Could the camera work in counseling? A few snaps, and he could sift the lies from the truth. That would build his reputation in a big hurry, and he wouldn’t need a second book or a lawsuit.

The cardboard groaned as Daniel reached Garth’s photo. He was never on the streets even though Gramps had warned him he could be. He stared hard at Garth’s broken teeth. The photo looked so real, but why was the color so washed out? Gramps’s photo was next. Daniel spun in his chair to see Gramps’s recliner. Why was it a dull pink in this photo?