He doesn’t respond. He just sits there on the edge of my guest room bed and stares me down, his eyes hard, his expression—what I can see of it—ice-cold. I tell myself to shut up, to stand down. There’s no winning this argument. And yet I can’t stop myself from begging one last time.
“Please,” I whisper, cheeks heating, eyes stinging. “Please let me see them.”
I know that I’m being reckless, putting my life, my children’s lives on the line here, but I can’t think of anything but them in the other room, knowing I’m in here strapped to a chair. They must be so terrified. I need to see with my own eyes that they are safe. To comfort them, as much as the sight of them will comfort me.
The man heaves a sigh.
“Fine, you can see them, but not until after.” He stabs the air, one gloved finger pointed to the ceiling. “After you make the call, after I know I can trust you to do what I say. If you do everything I tell you to, I will take you into the playroom for a little visit with the kiddos.”
He’s lying.
The black thought slips into my mind like a monster, ringing loud and clear in my sister Ruby’s ever-cynical voice. There’s no way he’s taking you to your kids, Jade. If you believe him, you’re a bigger fool than I thought. It hits me as a prophecy because she’s right. No matter what I do or say, he’ll never follow through. I know it with gut-punching certainty.
Bend to this man’s will, gain his trust, catch him off guard. That’s the plan. It’s not a great plan, but it’s the only plan I’ve got. I stare up at him, looking him straight in the eye. All I have to do is cooperate for now and wait for the exact right moment.
I swallow and speak the words he wants to hear. “What do you want me to say?”
J A D E
4:07 p.m.
Cam picks up on the second ring, his voice bleating from the speaker of my iPhone.
“Yo, babe, I was just thinking. With Bolling Way in ashes, why don’t we get away? Just you and me and a sunny Caribbean island. What’s the one with the pink sand again? I’ve always wanted to see that.”
“Cam.”
“There’s nothing I can do here anyway. Flavio can handle things with the insurance, and honestly, I could use a break. Everything was already so nutty, and now this fire. If I don’t take a minute to step away from this craziness, I’m going to crash and burn.”
His voice is tinny, ringing with Bluetooth and high-speed wind. I picture him flying down Peachtree in his truck, clueless I’m calling for what is essentially a ransom call. If only he would stop talking long enough for me to tell him.
“Cam.”
He yammers on—about the fire, a former sous-chef leaning out of an upstairs window, karma.
“Omigod, would you shut up?” This time I scream into the phone. I scream so hard the back of my throat catches fire.
He stops midsentence.
“Stop talking and listen to me, okay? This is an emergency.”
There’s a long, empty beat of airy silence. “Is this about that skeevy guy again, because—”
“No, but I need you to listen carefully.” I stare at my husband’s name on my iPhone screen, and I want to scream. I want to cry. I don’t want to be making this call. “There’s a man here, at the house. He says that—”
“A man. What man? Who?”
If only I knew. I’ve spent the past hour asking myself the same question, flipping through mental headshots of Cam’s salaried staff, the chefs and general managers I’ve met throughout the years, but there were a lot and the restaurant business is notoriously fluid. Talent bounces around, floating from restaurant to restaurant based on the latest newspaper reviews and Glassdoor rankings.
“Cam, listen to me.” My voice is shaky and raw, the words scratching in my throat like twine. “This man has a gun, and he says he will kill me if—”
“A gun, are you serious? Babe. If this is a joke, it’s not funny.”
“It’s not a joke. This man says he will shoot me and the kids unless you do exactly as he says. I’m only allowed to tell you this once. Are you ready?” I glance up at the man, and he nods his approval.
“Hell no, I’m not ready. Where are the Bees?”
Beatrix and Baxter. Instant tears at the affectionate term, said in such a desperate tone, used in such a blood-chilling context.
I gulp hard breaths, staring at the man’s knock-off Adidas sneakers. Cam is a solver. He spends all day every day tearing down roadblocks and putting out fires. But he’s not staring down the barrel of a gun, or attached to a forty-pound chair. He still thinks he can turn this thing around.