They blocked the road ahead and behind me on I-84 and told me over a loudspeaker to throw my keys out of the window. I am thirty one, a data analyst, and I have never had so much as a speeding ticket, but somebody had told them the driver was hostile and might run. Then Tobias stepped into the headlights and said, loudly enough for every body camera present, that I was his fiancée. When he crouched by my door he did not ask what had happened. He asked what my family had done.
My father had made the call, because three nights earlier I had refused to hand Genevieve twenty two thousand dollars that Tobias and I had saved for a wedding and a deposit. My mother had looked at my ring while she said family should come first.
