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.
It showed the side entrance of a low brick building, its windows covered with frosted film.
Above the door hung a faded sign: MERIDIAN ANNEX.
“Do you recognize it?” she asked.
I did not.
But as I studied the narrow parking area, I noticed a familiar vehicle half-hidden behind a delivery van.
Marcus’s SUV.
The timestamp was from the night I had lost consciousness.
PART 5
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