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“Where are you?” I say. “How long before you can get here?”
“I don’t... I don’t know. It’s going to take me some time to pull that kind of cash together. I’m going to have to empty the safes, move some things around between accounts, and the banks close in what—an hour? It would be a lot quicker to just transfer the money, all I need is a—”
“No.” Another one of the scenarios the man and I discussed, and he was crystal clear. “No bank transfers. It has to be cash, and you have to bring it by seven. He says one second later than that and we’re dead.”
“Seven o’clocktonight?” Cam’s voice cracks through the speaker, incredulous. “I don’t... That doesn’t give me anywhere near enough time.”
“Yes. He was very specific about the time.” I don’t mention that the man smiled when he said it:Tell your darling husband seven o’clock or else. Almost like a dare.
In the background, squealing wheels pierce through the roar of an engine. “Look, sir, whoever you are, listen to me. I will get you this money, but you have to understand there are forces out of my control. It’s rush hour. Traffic is a nightmare, and the banks are going to take forever. I can probably stitch together a couple hundred thousand today, and then tomorrow morning first thing I’ll get you the rest. I swear to you I’ll pull through, but I just don’t—”
“Cam.”The gun’s barrel is flush to my forehead, jabbing it into the bone, pressing hard enough to leave a bruise. Icy metal against scalding skin.
I think about my children in the next room, my husband on the phone, how if this man pulls the trigger now, they will hear everything. The gunshot, my insides splattering onto the wall. This will be their last memory of me, the exact moment they heard me die.
He pushes harder.
“He wants the money today, Cam.Allof it. By seven.”
A long pause filled with exhaled air, hard and sharp like Cam had been gut punched.
“Okay.Okay. I’ll figure something out. I don’t know what, but I’ll do it. Hold on, babe, I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
“Please hurry.” A shuddery spasm traps in my throat, a sob struggling to escape.
“Jade, just...hold tight, okay? Take care of the Bees, tell them I love them. I will be there as soon as humanly possible. I love y—”
Click. With a rubber-tipped finger, the man pushes End.
C A M
4:19 p.m.
The air in the truck’s cab reeks of sweat and terror. The light up ahead flips to yellow, and the sea of traffic in front of me glows eerie red, brake lights as far as I can see. I screech to a stop behind a white SUV, slam the steering wheel with the heel of my hand, my whole world turning crimson.
A masked man. A gun. My wife tied to a fucking chair.
The call was coming frominside the house.
And the kids are, what—splayed on the carpet on the playroom floor? Strapped to one of the recliners, a sock stuffed into their mouths? The horrible, awful vision slips like black smoke across my mind, and I pound the wheel and howl into my car because I don’t know. I don’t know if they’re bound and gagged, if they’re conscious, if they’re even really alive.For now, Jade said when I asked if they were okay, and as much as I believe my wife, I know one thing with one hundred thousand percent certainty: never believe the asshole with the gun.
Calm down, Cam.You can’t save any of them if you drop dead of a heart attack. Calm down and breathe.
But it’s hard getting any air with this Mack truck sitting on my chest. My heart is a clenched fist, punching a fast, erratic beat against my ribs. I’m on the verge of blacking out—an all too familiar sensation these days, like floating out of my body and watching myself die from three feet above.
Only you don’t die from panic attacks or atrial fibrillation or whatever the hell else the ER doc told me these episodes could be. You only feel like it.
The light turns green, but traffic doesn’t move, and I lay on the horn. The woman in the SUV takes her sweet time, pausing to wag a bird over her shoulder before she shifts her foot to the gas. The car eases forward, and I ride the brake and her bumper. I glance over both shoulders, edging closer to the lanes on either side, but I’m closed in by wall-to-wall traffic, and it’s not going to loosen anytime soon. Atlanta’s notorious rush hour is just getting started.
Calm down.
Think things through.
Don’t come to me with a list of problems, I’m always preaching to my staff.Bring me the solutions.Identify the issues, evaluate your options, tackle the items one by one. This is what I am constantly telling them.
Now it’s my turn.
Problem number one: I don’t have $734,296 in cash. I don’t have that anywhere in a nearby universe. Cash flow may be the lifeblood of the restaurant business, but that doesn’t mean I have piles of it lying around. Whatever cash I have on paper, none of it is liquid.