The camera did not save me.

What saved me was refusing to override my own alarm to keep the peace — and every woman reading this who has felt that alarm and been told she was crazy should know that the alarm is data, and the people most eager to convince you to ignore it are, very often, precisely the people it is warning you about.

Chapter 8 — Twelve Feet

But the camera was not the only thing they had forgotten about, because they had never known about it in the first place.

Across the garage, tucked behind three dusty paint cans and a plastic tub labeled HOLIDAY ORNAMENTS, was a small floor safe I had installed at the same time as the camera.

Inside it were a second phone, duplicate paper copies of the suspicious financial records, and the beginnings of the evidence I had quietly been gathering — everything I would need, hidden in the one place in that house my husband and his mother would never think to look.