People fascinate me. I’ve studied them all my life, and my speciality was violent men. When I was a child, I observed my father. As a wife, I examined my husband. While working in a forensic institution, I assessed my patients. The only person I rarely analysed was the one in my mirror.
I saw more than my share of tragedies and traumas, but I was taking them in stride. Being a single empty-nester wasn’t so bad either. I still looked pretty good by candlelight, my early retirement was on the distant horizon, and I almost made enough money to pay for my frequent trips to the Dominican Republic. My life was on track until the symptoms of my family’s disease derailed it.
I thought I knew exactly what the problem was, but I was wrong. My oversight had deadly consequences…
