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.

”

Detective Marcus Hale stepped inside.

Older now, silver touched his temples, but his eyes remained sharp, calm, and mercilessly observant.

He took in everything.

The brace.

The bruises.

The open safe.

The dead phone.

The condition I was in.

“Audrey,” he said softly.

“Detective Hale,” I answered. “It’s been a while.”

Vivian snapped, “Why is Financial Crimes continue reading …