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.

Not because I had become my own detective, but because my knowledge of numbers could help the people doing the investigation.

Priya reminded me that I could contribute information without carrying responsibility for the outcome.

At breakfast the next morning, Ellis called.

A judge had authorized searches at locations connected to Northstar and the annex.

She could not tell me when they would occur or what they expected to find.

After we hung up, I stood at the sink watching water fill a glass.

I left it untouched.