Every time my brother-in-law drove me home, I would lose consciousness and wake up with unexplained aches and pains. My husband would only laugh and say, “You’re just out of shape, that’s all.” After the fourth ride, I secretly slipped a voice recorder into my purse and said nothing. That night, I listened to a phone conversation between the two of them that revealed my blackouts had never been accidental.

I enlarged the image until their faces blurred.

At the hospital, I had told Dr.

Alvarez that I feared the worst possible explanation for my missing hours.

Now I feared something I had never even imagined.

The next morning, Detective Ellis called.

She had a warrant application in progress and needed to clarify two details: the date of the second blackout and whether my purse had ever been taken from me afterward.

I checked my calendar.