“Yes.” Opening her oversize black purse, she pulls out wrinkled papers, handing them to me in a heap. “Sorry it’s not organized. I hid them under some stuff in my underwear drawer. But a lot is there.”

“No, this is great.” Opening the first sheet, I see a date for three years ago. Photos, too.

“You see, I love him. He’s a good man. A great man. Fought for this country. But”—she pauses—“he’s dangerous.”

I swallow, my throat suddenly drier than dry. “And you have children with him?”

“We have a son.” She shakes her head, tears welling in her eyes. “I was pregnant again last May. But he came home in a dark mood. I asked him a question, something stupid”—she chuckles—“like, ‘How’s your headache?’ because I knew that he had taken a few Tylenols that morning. And he flew off the rails.”

I swallow hard, moving the pen to keep myself focused, although my hands are shaking uncontrollably. My handwriting has turned illegible.

“And he—he threw me. Against the table, stomach first.”

Bile rises.

“It wasn’t always like this,” she says in a rush, eyes wide as though she’s ready to defend him. “He’s an incredible man. So loving. No one takes care of me like he does. I don’t want to run like this, but my life is … it’s gotten out of control. He’s so possessive. It used to be flattering really. He’d pick me up and drop me off. He’d always come to check on me. But then it became … crazy, like he’d just show up at my work to watch me and send his friends to check on me, and I can’t live like this.” The tears drip down her face. “I want a life. A new life. I know it might be impossible to leave, but I have to try. And Devon”—she visibly shakes—“I can’t have him near his father. I can’t. Even if he’s never laid a hand on Devon, I don’t want his influence, and I don’t want Devon paying for his father’s sins. In our world, there’s always payment.”

I shake my head, trying not to emotionally crumble from her charged words. “I hear you. And we’re going to take every step we can to keep you safe.”

I take her hand, and she looks up, eyes filled with water.

“But, if he knows I’m staying here,” she continues, “he’s going to look for me. For his son. He won’t let us go without a fight. He told me to come over and bring Devon to him. I texted him to get out of it. Said I was going to visit my sister on the outskirts of Vegas. But my sister doesn’t live in Vegas anymore. She used to dance, but then she married Jacob, and he made her quit and move to Utah. But Marcus doesn’t know. Not yet at least.” She raises a skinny arm, staring at a thin black watch on her wrist. “And he’s already threatened me. He knows I want to go …”