I stare at the phone as I say it, trying to ignore the gun in his other hand, the barrel pointed at my forehead. I’m praying the last word will spark something in Cam’s mind. A memory. A recollection of the three nanny cams, concealed in strategic spots around the playroom. The same ones he teased me for installing, the ones he claims were an unnecessary expense seeing as I was never going to hire a nanny.

“Are they... Are the Bees okay?”

“For now.” Another answer the man and I rehearsed, one that’s meant to put the fear of God in Cam.

The kids’ earlier bickering from the back seat of my car rings once again through my head, wrapping like barbed wire around my heart. I will never fuss at them again. I will never lose patience when they want another hug, another story, another few minutes of my attention when I’ve finally found a moment alone.

I squeeze my eyes shut but it doesn’t staunch the tears. “But, Cam, you have to do exactly as I say.”

“Tell me. I’m ready.”

“I need you to go to the bank and withdraw—it’s a specific number. Maybe you should write it down.”

“I’m ready,” Cam says without missing a beat, and I don’t push the issue. This is a man who can’t remember to pack socks or take out the trash, but he never forgets a recipe, a measurement, a budget line. Cam knows exactly how many packs of butter he has in the cooler at any given moment. He knows the market price of a twenty-eight-day aged filet mignon down to the cent. He doesn’t need to write the number down.

“I need you to get $734,296 in cash and bring it to the house. Do not call the police. Do not tell anyone what you need the money for. Just get it and bring it home. When you get here with the money, he’ll let us go.”

“Who is he?”

“I don’t know. He hasn’t told me his name.”

“Is it...is it him?” Cam doesn’t have to say who he’s referring to. The pock-skinned, man-bunned man.

“No. At least I don’t think so.”

“Who, then? What does he look like?”

The man touches the side of the gun to his temple, a not-so-subtle indication to mention the mask. Before the call, he told me I was allowed to, but only if Cam asked.

“I don’t know. He’s wearing a mask.”

The man nods, gives me a close-lipped smile. Good dog.

“It sounds like I’m on speaker. Is he listening? He’s standing right there, isn’t he?”