On Big Jim’s advice, the second pad was installed on the bedroom wall instead of next to the front door, in case we ever needed the panic button in the middle of the night. From here, though, an impossible distance. Across the living room, around a corner, down a hallway, inside the door. A literal obstacle course where I’d have to dodge furniture, swerve around walls. Even if I left my kids here, which I never would, I’d have to hold the panic button down for three eternal seconds. I’d never make it there fast enough.

“And cameras?”

My heart gives a hard kick. “What about them?”

He puffs a put-upon sigh, rolls his eyes. “Stop making this so hard. How many are there? Where are they located?”

With shaking fingers I try my phone again. Three rapid clicks of a side button while looking this man in the eye. I make sure to look him straight in the eye.

“We have six, all outside. Two on the front, one on each side and two on the back.”

“You sure about that?”

I nod. My heart is booming so hard I’m surprised he can’t hear.

He frowns, watching me through squinted eyes. “No indoor cameras in a fancy place like this? I find that a little hard to believe. You sure you don’t have a secret camera somewhere, keeping an eye on the jewelry box in your closet maybe, or tucked behind a plant on a shelf upstairs?”

My gut muscles clench. My ears ring with building pressure. “I’m sure.”

He cocks his head, his lips pursing in thought. “Then prove it.” He stretches a long arm across the bar. “Show me the footage.”

Dread throbs and expands in my veins. It’s like those last, breathless seconds right before your car slams into a tree. The squeal of locked-down tires, the tug of momentum, the sickening flash of understanding that there’s no stopping disaster.

He snaps his fingers, a muffled slap of gloved skin hitting fabric on his outstretched hand. “Come on, Jade. A system like yours will have an app on your phone. Show it to me.”

Beatrix jerks on the chair next to me, a quiet seizure of fear.

And this is where I know I’m in trouble. Beyond the gun and the alarm and the unreachable panic buttons, there’s something deeply unsettling about the way this man is constantly one step ahead of me. This whole time we’ve been inside, while he was pointing us to our chairs and gathering up our snacks, his eyes have been alert. His mouth and hands were moving while his eyes watched. Scanning the room and our faces, coolly assessing our every move.

This is what I’m up against.

“Give me the phone, Jade, and no one gets hurt.”

J A D E

3:34 p.m.

Deny or admit defeat?