“If you want to live, do not look for him, and do not call the police,” she whispered frantically, her breath ragged. “He’s not a thief. He’s my husband, and you just helped him hide from the people who are tracking him.

Pack a bag and leave your house right now, because they know where he slept last night.”

The phone went dead. I stood there in the quiet kitchen, the reality of my broken life shattering into a million dangerous pieces, realizing that the best night of my life had just turned into a living nightmare.