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I can’t believe I didn’t think of him earlier.
My limbs prickle with nervous energy, and I check the time on my cell, already plotting out the route to George’s town house in my head. If traffic isn’t awful, a twenty-minute drive. There and back in time to meet with the insurance inspector, but only if I haul ass.
“Hold down the fort,” I say, jogging across the toasted floor. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
T H E I N T E R V I E W
Juanita: Why don’t you start by walking us through your version of August 6.
Cam: ‘My’ version?
Juanita: I just mean walk us through your day. What you did that morning, where you were when you got the call from Jade. That kind of stuff.
Cam: Okay. Well, I didn’t roll out of bed until the early
afternoon—fairly typical since I worked nights. I usually started my days by making lunch for Jade and me, but not that day. She had swapped schedules with somebody at Baxter’s day camp, took over their shift for craft time. Anyway, I didn’t see her at all that morning, or that afternoon. I didn’t even hear her and the kids leave. I was completely zonked.
Juanita: What time did you leave the house?
Cam: Two or so.
Juanita: And your truck, I’m assuming it was parked in the detached garage?
Cam: Yes, in the space next to Jade’s.
Juanita: And you didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary.
Cam: No. But this was a good hour, maybe more, before he got there.
Juanita: How did he get into the garage?
Cam: Through the door by the breezeway, I’m assuming. There’s a lock on that door but we never use it.
Juanita: Or maybe you left it open so he could get in the garage.
Cam: I already told you, we never used that lock. And why would you accuse me of such a thing? Are you insinuating I had something to do with the kidnapping of my own family?
Juanita: I wouldn’t be the first to suggest it. In the months since the home invasion, there’s been a great deal of misinformation floating around about you, both online and in print. Most of the stories accuse you of some kind of wrongdoing.
Cam: Oh, is that what we’re calling it now—misinformation?
Juanita: Rumors of hidden money in offshore accounts, accusations of tax evasion and conspiracy, a former pastry chef who claimed you had an affair with her roommate.
Cam: Fake news, all of it. Especially that last one, though she sure tried hard enough. Whenever she’d show up at one of the shops, the bartenders would text me a warning so I could sneak out through the kitchen. Ask any of them, they’ll tell you she was a pit bull.
Juanita: I did ask them.
Cam: And?
Juanita: They said you loved Jade. That you would never cheat on her.
Cam: [spreads hands]
Juanita: But the point I’m trying to make is all the information, much of it false, that is circulating about your part in what happened to your family. Many say you’re to blame, that your silence created a space for rumors and conspiracy theories.
Cam: That may be true, but this is my life we’re talking about. I mean, I know the restaurants put me in the spotlight before the home invasion, but that was nothing compared to you people camped out in front of the house day and night, ambushing me in the gym and the grocery store. Nobody wants that kind of attention. I certainly don’t.
Juanita: Because the public is fascinated by what happened. For most of us, a home invasion is just about the most terrifying thing we can imagine. The thought of a stranger ambushing you as you’re coming in the door and forcing their way into your house, threatening you and your children. It’s everyone’s worst nightmare.