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.

Take her through the side.”

Marcus grumbled about the distance from the car to the entrance.

There were footsteps, a metallic rattle, then Julian’s voice again: “She doesn’t know about the authorization.”

The woman answered, “The signature is on file.

That’s what you paid me to confirm.”

My own voice never appeared.

Somewhere between the recorded footsteps and the next car-door click, there was a stretch of muffled sound and too much distance to make out anything reliable.

Ellis stopped the audio before it resumed inside the SUV.