“Yes,” Gillian nodded rapidly. “And the weeks before.”

“He planned it,” Gillian said, her voice cracking. “He planned the physical assault weeks in advance.”

“He talked about how to make it look like an accident, or like you had a complete mental breakdown.”

“I recorded him when he was drinking and bragging about it in the study.”

“I didn’t delete them like he told me to. I kept them because I was scared of him.”

Ana took the phone from Gillian’s hand, using a clean handkerchief to keep from smudging any prints.

“Is the passcode active?” Ana asked.

“It’s four zeros,” Gillian said, wiping her nose with the sleeve of her stained jacket. “Please, just tell the prosecutor I helped.”

“I can’t go to jail, Alana. Please. I’m your sister.”

I looked at my stepsister, seeing only a terrified girl who had finally run out of lies.

“We need to hear them,” I said to Ana.

Ana tapped the screen, unlocked the device, and opened the voice memos app.

She selected a file dated three weeks before my attack.