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.

“Was that Vanessa?” I asked.

“We’re comparing voices,” she said.

“We aren’t ready to identify her from audio alone.”

I felt angry at the caution until I saw how carefully Ellis had written each claim in her notebook.

She was trying to build something that would survive being challenged.

Julian had always been good at taking isolated details and making them tell his preferred story.

We needed more than fear, even justified fear, to stop him.