Just 11 minutes after I returned from the hospital with a shattered femur, my mother-in-law kicked my crutches away. Ignoring my agonized screams, she and my husband dragged me into a pitch-black garage.

Inside were three items.

Five hundred dollars in cash.

A prepaid phone I had purchased two months earlier.

And a silver flash drive labeled Family Vacation 2021.

I grabbed the phone and switched it on.

The screen lit up.

Battery: 3%.

My chest tightened.

Not from pain.

Not from fear.

From timing.

I had one opportunity.

One call before the battery died.

I dialed continue reading …