And then another voice.
Julian’s.
My husband. The man who slept beside me every night.
“Good. Bring her over. Vanessa’s already here. And don’t be stupid this time — don’t leave marks on her like you did before.”
Marcus laughed nervously.
“It was barely a bruise.”
“Even a bruise could get us in serious trouble. Just do what I said.”
The call ended.
A minute later the SUV stopped.
I heard my seat belt unclip.
I heard Marcus mutter, “You trust us far too much, sister-in-law.”
And then the sound of his hand going through my coat — my pockets, my bag.
I switched the recorder off.
I couldn’t listen to another second.
I locked myself in the bathroom and lowered the neckline of my blouse in the mirror.
Beneath my collarbone was a dark purple bruise I’d spent days telling myself I must have gotten by accident.
Now I knew why I couldn’t remember.
