My 7-year-old daughter left me an old teddy bear before she d!ed in my arms. That night, I found a hidden recorder inside her bear

I looked at the gun pointed at my chest. I didn't flinch.

"You think you've won, Grant?" I asked softly.

"I know I have," Grant sneered. "There are no cameras here. No cell reception. It’s just us, a dead girl's toys, and a very sad, very lonely father. Sign the papers on the table, David. Make it easy on yourself."

"I don't think I will," I said.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out my phone. The screen was blank, but I tapped the volume button twice.

Suddenly, a loud, clear voice echoed from the small Bluetooth speaker I had hidden inside the cabin’s stone fireplace. It wasn't my voice.

It was Melissa’s.

"...She was going to die anyway! Her autoimmune condition was already there! We just... we just sped it up! We made sure she didn't suffer long..."

Melissa’s face turned completely white. "What... what is that?"

"That is a live stream," I said, pointing to the thermostat on the wall. "Broadcasting directly to the FBI, the state police, and every news channel in a three-state radius. We have over ten thousand live viewers right now, Mel. Say hello to the audience."

Grant’s eyes widened in sudden, stark terror. He spun around, looking at the thermostat.

"You bastard!" he roared, raising the gun to my head.

BANG.

The cabin window shattered. A red laser dot appeared on Grant's chest.

"STATE POLICE! DROP THE WEAPON! DROP IT NOW!"

The door was kicked off its hinges, splintering into the room. A dozen heavily armed tactical officers poured into the cabin, their rifles trained on Grant and Melissa.

Grant froze, his gun hand shaking. He looked at the laser dots painting his chest, then slowly, begrudgingly, dropped the pistol to the floor and raised his hands.

Melissa fell to her knees, sobbing hysterically. "It was him! It was Grant's idea! He made me do it! He threatened me! David, please, tell them! I'm your sister!"