Page 1 of Behind These Four Walls
Prologue
He rolled down the window of his old Explorer, letting in the cool night air to help clear his muddled thoughts. Maia was at home, asleep with the baby, though his daughter would be up soon for another feeding. Maia would wonder where he’d gone. She wouldn’t know just yet that he had been driven out of their home by shame.
He couldn’t stand to look at her. No matter what, he was about to disappoint his wife, and he tried to figure out which disappointment would be the worst kind of hurt. That he had somehow allowed himself to be seduced by millions and sucked into their deal, agreeing to put his name on the offshore accounts, anticipating a cut that would set him and his family up for life? Or that he’d betrayed his wife, broken their vows, and had an affair with one of the company’s receptionists, who, now that he thought about it, was way out of his league? But he’d been flattered, his ego stroked, by the attention of a beautiful, talented woman.
Which was the lesser of two evils—taking the fall for money he hadn’t stolen or letting his wife learn that the man of her dreams was really a nightmare? He parked on the side and cut everything off. The only light illuminating the cabin was the bluish hue from his cell as he stared through blurry eyes at the images of him and Stephanie doing things that would make anyone blush.
He thought about the life he’d be able to give Maia now. He thought about how he’d never have to worry about the compoundingmedical bills for his little girl that fucking insurance continued to deny, deny, deny.
He thought about all this, oblivious to the back row, where his three dogs panted loudly, running from one window to another and fogging them up as the few cars on the freeway passed him.
The message given to him had been clear. Make a choice: Take the heat for those dummy accounts or let these pictures find their way to Maia and absolutely destroy her. He couldn’t do that to her. He’d rather Maia think he was a thief than a cheater, though what he’d been was an idiot with no backbone when faced with adversity. He’d never be able to look her in the eye again if she knew how easily he’d betrayed their promises to each other at the time when Maia was at her most vulnerable, pregnant with their first child.
Screw it. He sent the text.
I’ll do it. Destroy the photos,he typed.
He addedNow. As if he was tough and really had something to bargain with. He’d take the blame.
He waited as the dots pulsed until the response popped up.
Smart man.
Behind him, the dogs barked at the few cars that passed, since it was late and traffic was relatively light. He’d driven far out, heading east toward Riverside County. Which desert town he ended up in, he didn’t care. LA was full of concrete problems, and he’d run from them, though those problems had still followed him.
His steps were heavy as he got out and opened the back passenger door, releasing the dogs from their confinement. They scampered off to frolic along the tree line while he watched, searing the memory of them into his mind. Just as he’d done with Maia and his baby girl before leaving their home. He hoped they wouldn’t be out here for long. That they wouldn’t come across any coyotes or cougars. He didn’t want toleave Maia with the burden of them as well. Besides, they’d always been more his dogs than hers.
More tired than he’d ever felt before, he climbed back into his SUV and rolled the windows up. His next text was to Maia.
I’m sorry.
She was awake, and he read the stream of her frantic replies asking him what was wrong, where he was. He ignored the calls she began to make as he reached over the console and grabbed the barrel of the rifle that had been riding shotgun the entire trip there.
With him gone, there would be no need for the illicit photos. With him gone, they could say what they wanted, label him an embezzler, and look no further. He’d be on the news cycle for a day or two, if that, and then be old news. Maia would finally be left alone to grieve. But at least her grief wouldn’t come with the knowledge that he’d betrayed her.
Pacing the length of the truck, no longer playing, the dogs whined from just outside the door, their instincts sensing something was amiss. He ignored them too. He removed his shoe, his sockless foot flexing from the freedom. He adjusted the muzzle, bracing the butt against the floor, and shifted his big toe to where he needed it to be.
Smart man.
The gunshot cracked, sending a flash of light. The enclosure muffled the sound. The dogs dropped immediately onto their haunches. They let out a singular howl as one into the night. They remained until daylight broke, when a motorist finally pulled over just ahead after noticing three Labs sitting in the grass as he passed by. When he got out of his car and approached them, the dogs did not move, their gazes fixated.
“Babe,” he said into the AirPod nestled in his ear as he neared the animals, “you won’t believe—”
He saw what kept them entranced: the jagged hole in the back window, the dark splatter on the interior of the windshield, the figure inside ... the SUV that was now someone’s tomb.
Chapter One
Isla
Six Months Later, Present Day
Isla Thorne had had a long day. She was still wearing her uniform of black slacks, a crisp white shirt now wrinkled from a full day of work, and a gold-plated name tag withIslaetched in black. She adjusted the strap of her cross-body tote over her shoulder. It held her wallet, a pair of black-and-white All Stars, and a clean black waist apron used when she was on back-of-the-house duty during one of the posh events the events planner booked her for. It really had been a long day, but the reward would be worth the effort.
Expensive cars filled the parking spots of the open-air shopping center she passed, a multicolor showcase of privilege on display as she trudged to the bus stop, intending to catch the incoming bus so she wouldn’t be forced to wait another forty-five minutes for the next one.
Isla’s stride slowed as she and a girl, late teens, crossed paths. The girl was dressed comfortably in sporty athleisure. Her thick, dark hair was pulled back with a headband and twisted into a messy braid that hung over her left shoulder, her natural beauty glowing even in the fading light. She looked as if she’d just stepped out of a commercial, which Isla wished she could be in as well instead of the stain-markedwork clothes from the catering job she’d just left. The girl exuded an air of wealth none of them had. Maybe it was the sparkling green BMW M4—the latest model—that the girl was heading toward. Any other time, Isla would have passed by, continuing toward her bus stop.
Today was not one of those times.