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 did not sound like a spontaneous crime of opportunity.
It sounded scheduled.
Priya had already arranged for me to stay somewhere Julian did not know about.
When we left the hospital, I sat in the back of her car with my face turned to the window.
The familiar office buildings of Dallas passed under a clear blue sky.
People crossed streets carrying coffee.
A school bus turned a corner.
It seemed impossible that ordinary life could continue while mine had split in two.
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