I turn the phone off and toss it to the floor.
Dethroning Atlanta’s Steak King. I can’t deny it is sweet, sweet revenge. With any luck the whole world will see how their favorite celebrity chef screwed a poor, single father out of the money he needed for his dying daughter. Now everybody will know that’s the kind of person Cam is, a man who values money and power above all else. Talk about going out in a blaze of glory.
It’s funny. When Tanya called to say that none other than Cam Lasky had moved in across the street, I couldn’t believe my stupid luck. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, isn’t that what they say? I told her to play dumb. I told her to ingratiate herself with his pretty wife, to make herself necessary in their lives, to keep her mouth closed while my brain stitched together this plan.
The other big surprise? That Cam was strapped for cash. He didn’t tell me that part when he pulled out of our deal, just that he had “other business matters that needed his full attention.” I didn’t find out he was dead broke until I sued him for damages, for funds his attorneys told mine he didn’t have. By then my money was long gone, cash I’d set aside for Gigi’s care but Cam assured me was a safe investment in him.
I turn to the dummy speaker, step right up to it and smile.
“This isn’t the way I wanted today to end, baby girl, I want you to know that. Maybe one day, after you get your lungs and a baby boy or girl of your own, you’ll find some understanding in that big heart of yours. But before you do any of that, take a little peek under the bread in the freezer, will you? I love you, Gigi. So much. Never forget that.”
I blow a kiss at the camera and turn away.
I didn’t come all this way without a backup plan, and a backup to the backup to the backup. Like I’m always telling Gigi, she’s getting those lungs if it’s the last thing I do. It’s time to pull the parachute cord.
I figured if anybody could pull together the ransom money, it would be Cam. Even deep in debt, that man knows every martini-swilling, tweed-wearing, steak-overpaying asshole in town. Surely he could sweet-talk some of them into loaning him some cash.
And who knows? Maybe he did, and maybe he didn’t. I won’t believe it until I see that promised bag of cash, until I can count out the bills.
Jade was a surprise, though—not the money-loving Buckhead Betty I originally thought. The way she kept throwing herself in front of her kids. That move downstairs with the screwdriver, how she was constantly risking her life in order to save theirs. That kind of love is a beautiful, beautiful thing.
I think of my Gigi at home, coughing up mucus into a cup. No more pain. No more money problems. No more constant worry about her fate.
Heavy boots clomp on the stairs, and I press myself to the wall, pulling out the switchblade in my pocket, flicking it open and holding it high in my good fist. The blade reflects a glint of white ceiling light that blinds me to everything else. The pain in my shoulder as I lunge for the cluster of cops filing through the door, the shouted warnings right before the blade sinks into someone’s skin, shots ringing out like a string of firecrackers. Everything but my baby’s sweet smile.
“Hi, Daddy,” she says as she reaches for my hand.
My freedom for Gigi’s lungs. My life for hers. I’m more than willing to make the trade.
T H E I N T E R V I E W
Juanita: The nanny cam footage went viral the second it hit the internet.
Cam: Yeah, for all their tough talk about cracking down on violent content, the social media platforms sure do a bang-up job, don’t they?
Juanita: Most people would agree they failed pretty spectacularly. One tweet led to a couple dozen, which led to hundreds more, crossing over onto Facebook and Instagram and YouTube. Sebastian and his two accomplices, his sister, Hannah, and your neighbor Tanya Lloyd, certainly didn’t anticipate things taking off that fast. The police traced the feed to your home. They got there in the nick of time.
Cam: Well, that’s debatable. Jade and Beatrix were already downstairs when they busted through the door. They’d already gotten away from Sebastian, but the police killed him anyway.
Juanita: Because he attacked one of the officers with a knife. She was in the ICU for days. She almost died.
Cam: Yes, but why couldn’t they have just tackled Sebastian to the ground? Did they have to kill him?
Juanita: Yes, because again, he attacked an officer of the law.
Cam: Sure, but he did it because he was out of options. Not just broke but buried in debt, and unable to get treatment for his dying child. So you tell me. What else was he supposed to do?
Juanita: I don’t know. Certainly not hold a mother and two small children for ransom. Certainly not break a woman’s cheek.
Cam: Still. There’s something inherently wrong with a system that would allow a girl to die simply because her father can’t afford drugs that every other Western country would have given her for free. Every single societal safeguard that was meant to catch Sebastian failed. Every single one of his options was snatched away.
Juanita: [sitting back in chair] Sebastian held your family at gunpoint. He tied them to a chair and threatened their lives. He physically hurt your wife and traumatized your children, all because he carried so much hatred for you. Because he wanted revenge.
Cam: I know, and I think about those things a lot. There’s not a day that goes by that I don’t get flashes of Jade’s mangled face or Beatrix waving around that gun. I have to relive those awful moments knowing they happened because of me, because of things I did. But at the end of the day, I keep coming back to the fact that Sebastian acted not for himself, but for a child. His child. The one he loved the same way I love Beatrix and Baxter, with every inch of my heart. I don’t know, Juanita, the answers don’t feel so black-and-white.
Juanita: You make it sound like you’ve forgiven him.
Cam: I don’t know about forgiveness exactly. Some pity and regret. Actually, scratch that. Lots of regret for what I did.
Juanita: But in the end, Sebastian got what he wanted. Gigi Long didn’t die. Thanks to those videos, people flooded GoFundMe campaigns with money. Hospitals and doctors stepped up with free medical care. Gigi got her lungs. Her doctors say she’s on track for a full recovery.
Cam: [scoffs] No thanks to Sebastian’s life insurance company, who refused to pay her a penny.
Juanita: Because he looked into a camera and announced to the entire world what he was about to do. He told his daughter where to find the insurance papers, and then he threatened police officers knowing they would retaliate. Life insurance policies carry an exclusion for suicide.
Cam: When you push a man to the edge of a cliff, you can’t get pissy when he jumps.
Juanita: Are you implying the insurance company made the wrong decision, that they should have honored Sebastian’s policy?
Cam: Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying. Suicide by cop is not a thing. Or at least it shouldn’t be.
Juanita: Or maybe you just have a bone to pick with insurance companies, seeing as yours didn’t pay out, either. Not after you confessed to insurance fraud and—
Cam: Attempted insurance fraud. My attorney was able to talk down the charges.
Juanita: Because you also confessed to arson in the first degree. You got six and a half years.
Cam: And I deserved them. But for the record, I confessed to Jade first. I told her everything, and I mean everything, before I went to the police. There are no more secrets between me and Jade. Nothing’s stayed buried. She knows every single thing.
Juanita: Does she know what happened to the missing $49,000?
Cam: I already told you. It was in my truck, and then it wasn’t.
Juanita: Yes, but if that’s really the case, why would she tell me to look into it? What do you think she meant by that?
Cam: I don’t know. You’d have to as
k Jade.
Juanita: She wouldn’t tell me, either. But I did do a little digging. I took another look at the GoFundMe campaigns, and do you know what I found?
Cam: [doesn’t respond]
Juanita: I found a donation of $49,514.27 made in late August. Three weeks almost to the day after Sebastian forced his way into your home, after the same amount disappeared from your truck. The donation was anonymous. There was no name attached.
Cam: I know what anonymous means, Juanita.
Juanita: I just think it’s strange, don’t you?
Cam: It is quite the coincidence.
Juanita: A gift like that, though...if people found out you were behind it, that would go a long way to improving your public standing.
Cam: I already told you. Scrubbing my image is not why I’m here.
Juanita: And Jade?
Cam: What about her?
Juanita: Is it possible that maybe she wanted me to discover the donation? So that people might look a little more kindly on you?
Cam: [doesn’t respond]
Juanita: Come on, Cam. I thought you were here to set the record straight.
Cam: I am. I did. I confessed my crimes in front of a judge and now your cameras. I’m paying for them with six and a half long years of my life. Years where I’m missing out on violin concertos and soccer games and birthdays and anniversary dinners and a million other important moments.
Juanita: Okay, different question then. Do you think Jade has forgiven you?
Cam: It’s a lot to forgive.
Juanita: When I spoke to her last week, I asked her the same question. I asked if she forgave you.
Cam: And?
[Door opens, male voice from off camera]: Sorry, Ms. Moore, but time’s up. I’m going to have to ask you to wrap it up.
Juanita: I just have one last question. Please, may I ask it?
Man: Okay, but make it quick.
Juanita: But what about all the people watching? People who’ve been following your story since the moment it began, the afternoon of August 6. They want to know where things stand between you and Jade. What should I tell them? Are you still a couple?
Man: By my count that’s three. [approaches desk] All right, Cam. You know the drill.
Juanita: What do I tell them, Cam?
Cam: Here’s an idea. [stands, offers wrists to guard] Tell them to do what they’ve been doing all along, to use their imagination.
* * *
Keep reading for an excerpt from Stranger in the Lake by Kimberly Belle.
A C K N O W L E D G M E N T S
My Darling Husband is a work of fiction, but like all fiction, it’s a story rooted in truth. I live in Atlanta, a city with its fair share of violent crime. Home invasions occur here often enough it’s almost easy to become numb to them...until one day it happened to people I know. Their story began much like Jade’s: an armed stranger confronting the mother and children in the garage and forcing his way inside. The ransom he demanded was an odd amount, a number he’d gotten from a bank statement pilfered from their mailbox. That family survived, but their experience got me thinking. What would I have done in that mother’s shoes? How far would I go to save my children? My answers formed the basis for Jade’s actions in My Darling Husband.
Writing her story was a solitary endeavor, but it wouldn’t be a book without a team of talented, passionate, dedicated folks to bring it out into the world.
My agent, Nikki Terpilowski, is brilliant at helping me navigate the sometimes choppy waters of this business while always keeping her eye on the horizon. Thanks for being my fiercest advocate and loudest cheerleader. We make a great team.
At Park Row, Laura Brown’s editorial guidance was as gentle as it was genius. She’s the one who planted the very first seed for this story in my head, then took what I wrote and helped me shape it into a book. I am so grateful for her patience and wisdom, as well as for that of the stellar team at Park Row, including Erika Imranyi, Emer Flounders, Gina Macedo and all the folks working tirelessly behind the scenes. I am so blessed to have found a home there.
So many thanks go to Emily Carpenter for being a fantastic first reader and an even better friend. Emily and our fellow Calamity Dames, Amy Impellizzeri and Kate Moretti, have talked me off many a ledge. I can’t wait to hug your necks again. Thanks, too, to Laura Drake, who reads my first crappy attempts and ever so kindly points out where they could use some work, and to Allison Anderson, whose winning bid got her the dubious honor of having a character named after her father, Gordon Howard. Gordon, I hope I did you proud.
And finally, the biggest thanks go to my kids, Evan and Bella, and to my very own darling husband, who in no way resembles Cam Lasky. My world begins and ends with you three.
Stranger in the Lake
by Kimberly Belle
1
I untie the dock cleats and shove the boat into water as gray as the sky. Sometime in the past few hours, gunmetal clouds have rolled over the mountaintops, shooting down icy gusts that froth the surface of Lake Crosby into a million white peaks. My stomach churns, and not from the water’s chop.
Maybe morning sickness, maybe nerves at the words I need to say to my new husband out loud.
Surprise! I’m pregnant.
I sink onto the helm seat and shove my hands into the pockets of my new down jacket. A gift from Paul, who has impeccable taste—the kind that comes from good breeding and a big bank account. We’ve only ever spoken about children in the vaguest of terms. Things like “this room would make a good nursery” or “we would make pretty babies,” the “one day” silent but implied. He and his first wife never tried for a baby before she died, a little over four years ago. I haven’t known him a year. This wasn’t exactly the plan.
But neither was falling for a man eleven years older than me, a man who always claimed he’d never marry again. The thirty-seven-year-old wealthy widower falls for a gas station clerk from the muddy side of the mountain, both of us touched by tragedy. A combination that everybody from our town said would never work.
“I don’t give a damn what people think,” Paul is constantly telling me. “I love you and you love me, and that’s all that matters.”
But now... My hand feels under the jacket to my still-flat stomach. What will he think about this little surprise blooming inside my belly? I have no idea.
His mother, the people in town, friends who’ve known him all his life. I know exactly what they’ll say.
They’ll say that this baby was no accident. That the littlest Keller will cement my place at the family dinner table in a way the three carats on my ring finger can’t. That marriages are temporary, but children are until the end of time. That now he’s really trapped.
Sugar daddy, sugar baby, baby daddy.
By now the wind has pushed me away from the dock, and I start the engine and swing the boat around. Paul and I live on a cove, but the currents here are swift, the water dangerously deep. The hill his house is perched on doesn’t stop at the shoreline, but plunges to depths of up to three hundred feet. There’s a whole town buried down there, tucked in the hills of what was once a thriving valley. Homes, roads, farms, schools. Graveyards. Whenever anything manages to wriggle loose—a battered shingle, an algae-covered shoe, a slimy dog collar—it ends up here, in Skeleton Cove.
Halfway to the town’s center, I ease up on the throttle going around the point to Buck Knob Cove and look westward, over the water and mountains and endless smoky skies. I’ve never lived anywhere else but Lake Crosby, North Carolina—have never even considered it—and still the raw beauty of this place can take my breath away. These mountains are as much a part of me as my own skin and bones, the connection as real as the cells multiplying in my belly. If I close my eyes, I can feel the plates shifting under my feet. I am the mountains and the mountains are me. I couldn’t live anyplace else
if I tried.
It’s the one thing I can’t resent my mother for, I suppose, choosing this place to have a family—not that she was much of a parent. I mostly raised myself, and then I raised my brother, Chet, which is how I know love can only go so far. Love doesn’t put food on the table. Love doesn’t pay the rent or the creditors who come banging at the door. A baby needs so much more than love.
People say I married Paul for the money, but that’s just not true. I married him because I love him, and I love him for all the things he provides. A mortgage-free roof over my head and a belly stuffed with nutritious, organic food. Health insurance and car insurance and cell phone and internet. The freedom of never having to choose between going cold or going hungry again. A life that is safe and stable and secure.
And really, when you think about it, isn’t security just another word for love?
Copyright © 2020 by Kimberle S. Belle Books, LLC
ISBN-13: 9780369705464
My Darling Husband
Copyright © 2021 by Kimberly S. Belle Books, LLC
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
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