I drop the cell back into my pocket and sink onto the last chair, the one with the ruined leather armrests. Jade’s voice, her expression—they’re a swirling mess of doubt and desperation. My questions have gotten to her, planted a seed of suspicion that if she’d been paying any sort of attention, would have come up ages ago. Clearly this is a woman who only sees what she wants to see.

And now I’ve given her just enough to get the wheels turning. She might have believed Cam was telling her everything about his business before this day started, but she doesn’t anymore. If nothing else, I’ve accomplished that much, nicked a chink in her belief in her husband.

She stands there, holding the roll of tape like a forgotten cup of coffee, and watches me, frowning. I wait for her to mention the marks in the leather under my fingers, how the tape peeled the top layer of the recliner away like a cheese grater. But then again, furniture is the least of her worries.

“Maybe we should get Cam on the phone again,” she says instead. “If you call him on my cell, I guarantee you he’ll answer. We could ask him how much longer before he gets here.”

“Good idea, but attach the girl to the chair first.”

I urge her into motion with the Beretta and, reluctantly, she tugs Beatrix down the line of recliners. She guides her into one at the far end, kneeling on the carpet by her feet.

“You’ve been such a brave girl,” she murmurs, snagging her fingers in her hair. “But let’s just do as he says this time, okay? Your father will be home soon, and then this will all be over.”

The kid leans forward and whispers something into Jade’s ear. Jade frowns, then whispers something back. I watch the side of her mouth, the way her lips carve out one lone word.

Who. Or maybe hoot. Or it could also be shoot. Shoot a gun?

“Hey.” Both heads whip in my direction, both expressions guilty as hell. I flit the Beretta between them. “What are y’all whispering about?”

“Beatrix says she’s hungry. It’s past her dinnertime.”

“And what did you say?”

“I told her to wait.”

Wait. It’s possible that’s what she said. From the side, who would look like wait. Especially with that swollen cheek.

I lean back on the buttery leather, gesturing to the roll in her hand. “Less talking. More taping. And hurry. It’s almost go time.”

J A D E

6:25 p.m.

“Sit down.”