My Darling Husband(67)

He digs my iPhone from a cargo pocket, sinking back into the leather of the last recliner, the one Baxter was on. He unlocks the screen then pauses, his finger floating above the glass.

“Okay, here’s how it’s going to go. When Cam answers, you’re to ask where he is, how much of the money he’s got on his person and how long before he gets here. These are the only things you get to say to him, do you understand me? If he asks about the kids or anything else, direct him back to answers for those three questions. Got it?”

I nod, then shake my head. “Is Beatrix allowed to talk to him?”

He smiles. “Oh yeah. She can talk to him. In fact, missy, maybe you can tell him about how you almost got your mama killed. Special treats for anyone who can squeeze out some tears. Ready?”

Without waiting for our answer, he taps Call, then puts the phone on speaker. I stare at the phone, my heartbeat knocking against my ribs. Cam picks up on the first ring.

“Hello, Jade?”

Click. The man hangs up.

I stare at him, my mouth hanging open.

The man gives me a demented grin. “Just messing with you. Let’s do it again.”

He goes through the steps again, tapping the buttons on the screen. This time, the phone doesn’t even ring before Cam’s voice bursts through the speakers.

“Jade, are you there?”

His tone, desperate and plaintive, hits me like a sucker punch, an immediate and forceful blow that forces all the air from my lungs. Last night when he crawled into bed, I fussed at him for waking me up. Cam wanted to spoon, I wanted to sleep, and now I hate myself for it. Why couldn’t I have rolled over and told him how much I’d missed him? Why couldn’t I have shown him?

“I love you, Cam.” The words come out before I can stop them, and I know this wasn’t part of the script and I’ll probably get another broken bone or maybe worse for it, but I am beyond caring. I couldn’t stop these words even if I wanted to. These are words that have to be said. “I have since that time you came over in the middle of the night and planted all those purple tulips under my window. We’d been dating for what—three weeks?”

Twenty-three days. And on the morning of the twenty-fourth, when I pulled up the shades and saw hundreds of my favorite flowers swaying in the breeze, my heart flipped over in my chest. I didn’t tell him for another month, but I fell in love with Cam, right then and there.

“Babe. Don’t... Jesus, please don’t talk like that. Where are you? Are you okay? Are the kids?”

“You had me at tulips, Cam. I was a goner. I still am. I want you to know that what you and I have, it’s for real. The best thing I ever did was walk in your restaurant that day.” My face scrunches with tears, and a sharp and searing pain explodes in my cheek—a physical reminder of what’s coming after we wrap up this call. The man’s expression says it will be so much worse.

“Jade, I... I love you, too, but you’re scaring me. Tell me what’s happening there.”

I sniff, my gaze wandering to my daughter. A solemn-faced Beatrix, who’s trying her damnedest not to cry. “We’re in the playroom. Beatrix is duct-taped to the chair.”

“And Bax?”

“He’s with Tanya. She dropped by earlier and took him for pizza.” I think about telling him to call over there to check in, but I don’t. Every mention of Baxter is a reminder to the masked man that our son is safe across the street, and I’d rather keep his focus right here, in this room. Instead, I say, “Are you almost here?”

“I’m driving as fast as I can. Beatrix, baby, you there? I want to hear your voice, too.”

Beatrix heaves a petulant sigh. “I’m fine. He hurt Mommy, though.” She glares at the phone as she says it, and I know what she’s thinking. She’s pissed at being played like a puppet.

“What did he do to Mommy?”

“He hit her on the cheek.” Beatrix glares from her recliner at the masked man, who gives an enthusiastic thumbs-up. “It’s swollen and really, really purple.”

A long patch of motor and air. I picture Cam in his truck, white-knuckling the steering wheel, the three loud thumps that sound through the phone, Cam’s fist hitting something solid.

“Tell him I’m on my way. Say I’ll be there as soon as I can, okay? For sure by seven.”

Beatrix rolls her eyes. “You don’t have to tell him, because he’s sitting right here.”

“Sir, whoever you are, I want you to know that I meant what I said just now. I’m fighting traffic, but I’ll be there by seven. And I have the money.”

The man needles me with a finger to the shoulder, and I ask, “All of it?”

“Yes. All of it. I have $734,296 in a bag, headed your way.”

I almost faint with relief. Cam’s announcement feels like a shimmering oasis in a desert. I hear his words, I process them, but I don’t dare believe. Cam has the money. He’ll be here by the deadline.

The man nudges me again, and I search for meaning behind the mask. His earlier words echo through my mind like fragments of a nightmare I really wish I could forget. Ask where he is, how much of that money he’s got on him and how long before he gets here. These are the only things you get to say.

I frown.

He mouths a word that makes my blood turn cold. I know as soon as I say it, as soon as Cam gives me the answer, this conversation will be over. A masked finger is already hovering over the screen. I am not ready for this call to end.