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.

So I made tea and sat with my mother on a video call instead.

We talked about the orange tree outside her kitchen, the neighbor who fed stray cats, and the cake she had once burned for my tenth birthday.

For twenty minutes, I was not an evidence file.

When the call ended, I checked my secure messages.

Ellis had sent a brief update: Investigators had executed the warrants.

Numerous records and devices were collected.

Review was ongoing.