“You know exactly what I want, and this time you’re going to give it to me. I’m through with your stupid games.” He still hasn’t turned me around. He’s pressed up to me as close as he can get. His chest heaves against my back. This is exciting him. I want to throw up. “There’s only one way this ends well for you, and that’s you giving me my money. See, we’re long past this being about Mason or about what we both know you did to your husband—”
“You don’t know anything about my husband.”
“I know you killed him so he wouldn’t show anyone that video.”
The world spins. Rolls in slow motion like the sound’s been muted too. My body goes weak. He holds me up so I don’t fall.
“Don’t worry. I get it,” he whispers in my ear. His face pressed up against mine. “I wouldn’t want anyone to see that video either. I mean, can you imagine what people would think about you? Torturing your son that way? Training him to be sick?”
A wave of fear burns my insides. My brain stumbles backward. I can’t swallow. What? How? No. Just no. There’s no way.
“I’m not playing with you.” He jerks me so hard my jaw snaps, smacking my teeth together. “Pull something like that again and you’ll regret it, because guess what happens then? Guess what happens if you get any ideas in your head about not paying me my money or showing up at the spot?” A long dramatic pause. My heartbeat pounds in my ears. All I feel is his chest heaving against me. My skin bristles. “I know where to find you, and I’ll find you again. You can be sure of that. Even if you decide to run. This time when I find you, I’ll take you, and I’ll torture you until your family pays me to stop and get you back. How’s that sound? Any better?”
My legs shake. My hands shake. Everything shakes. The end of the driveway looms.
“I . . . okay . . . I’ll try. I’ll do my best . . . I just . . .” My words won’t come together. I’m trying to reason with him. How do you reason with a madman? I rack my brain for a way out. There’s none. “I don’t know how to get three hundred thousand dollars, but I’ll try.”
“No, there’s no trying. You have until Friday to get it to me. I’ll call Thursday night and tell you where to meet. That’s how this goes down.” He digs the gun as far as he can into my back. “Are we clear?” I give quick, jerky nods. He twists me around and shoves me back in the direction of my car.
THIRTY-FIVE
CASEY WALKER
I’ve been following Genevieve like a creepy stalker for the last three days, and she’s definitely up to something. She gave her grand statement to the media, tugging on everyone’s heartstrings, and then uncharacteristically disappeared from sight. But just because she hasn’t been on TV or social media doesn’t mean she hasn’t been busy. Her schedule’s been packed with her scurrying around the county visiting banks and credit unions all the way up to Birmingham.
Detective Layne said to bring him something, and I’m not going back to him until I have rock-solid proof that she’s a murdering monster. I’ve only become more convinced of it as I’ve watched her slink around these past few days. At first, she just drove to the banks and never went inside. She’d circle the block and the neighboring streets. Twice she camped out in the parking lot for a few minutes. It wasn’t long enough to draw attention to herself, but it was longer than necessary for someone who never went inside to do anything.
None of her behavior made sense until day three. That’s when she started going inside the banks with bags. She walked in like a woman on a mission, dressed like she’d just come from an important business meeting. The credit union on MacArthur was her first stop, and she strode in with a large purse slung over her shoulder. It was flat when she went inside and stretched out when she left. The next day she visited two of the other banks she’d canvassed on the opposite side of Birmingham, looking as pristine as the day before in a fresh pantsuit and hair pulled up in a neat clip. She went into the first one with her big fancy bag and arrived at the second one carrying a small suitcase. There’s only one reason to go to a bank with a suitcase, and it’s not to return pennies.
She’s collecting cash. For somebody or something. Someone. Who knows, but I’m determined to find out. I took plenty of pictures and lots of video too. They won’t mean anything in Detective Layne’s eyes, though, not by themselves. There are lots of reasons a woman could be gathering cash, that’s what he would say, and I hear his voice in my head as I sit in my rental car parked outside Camden Estates waiting for Genevieve to make her next move. None of the pictures or videos would prove anything to him, which is why I haven’t shown them to him yet. He doesn’t even know I’m here.
Genevieve’s a bad person, and people who are bad don’t stop being bad. It’s like they can’t help it, so it’s only a matter of time before she does something again, and when she does, I’m planning on doing my best to be there for it. I’m thankful that Genevieve does most of her dirt during the daytime hours, because I can’t follow her at night anymore now that Harper’s home. It’s been a rough transition getting her settled, and I’m glad she’s at school today so I don’t have to worry about her.
I cleared my calendar and rescheduled all my appointments just like yesterday. I told everyone I was sick, which is unheard of for me, but I can’t sit around and let Genevieve get away with what she did to Mason, even if everyone else can. She thinks she got away with whatever happened down there, and I can’t let that go. Not while Mason is being punished for her crimes.
I’ve been in touch with Blanche, and Mason is making remarkable progress. He’s getting better and better at doing things on his own. It’s stuff you’d never expect, too, like taking his own shower and getting to activities on time. I gave him one of Harper’s old TouchChat devices, since she just uses the app on her iPad, and it’s unlocked a new world for him. He’s thriving ever since he got put under Blanche’s care, and I detected a hint of suspicion in Blanche’s voice today for the first time at how rapidly Mason has improved since he’s been away from his mother. It’s not lost on her either.
Genevieve letting him take the blame for what happened would be a blessing if it meant he could stay under Blanche’s care and not hers, but that’s not how it works. Everything changes after he’s sentenced. He’ll be transferred to a psychiatric correctional unit for kids. Those are terrible places. Ones where the kids get worse instead of better. Where two-year sentences grow into ten. I can’t let that happen. I’ll do anything to prevent it.
The security gates swing open, and I sit up straight in the front seat, instantly alert. It’s a black Mercedes, but that doesn’t mean anything. Lots of people at Camden Estates drive the same car. The Mercedes makes a left out of the gate and heads in my direction. I cover my face with my hand as it drives past and sneak a peek inside the car.
It’s her.
My heart speeds up. I quickly whip the car around and follow behind her, making sure not to get too close or do anything to draw attention to myself. I rented a small Honda Civic so that she wouldn’t recognize me, even though I highly doubt she knows my car. Dad laughed at me the first time I pulled up in it and explained the purpose, but there was a bit of hesitancy in his laugh. He hasn’t outright told me that he sides with Detective Layne about letting the case go, but he drops hints about being too enmeshed or moving on to new projects. But that’s not happening until I figure this out.