Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

New York Times bestselling author Brenda Novak has written over 80 novels. An eight-time Rita nominee, she's won The National Reader's Choice, The Bookseller's Best and other awards. She runs Brenda Novak for the Cure, a charity that has raised more than $2.5 million for diabetes research (her youngest son has this disease). She considers herself lucky to be a mother of five and married to the love of her life. www.brendanovak.com

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The Perfect Couple

Mira

The bump that came from the trunk of her car surprised Tiffany so much it nearly sent her careering off the road and into one of the houses along the right side. What was going on? The fourteen-year-old boy she and her husband had called "Rover" was supposed to be dead. She couldn't dump his body if he wasn't!

What should she do? She gripped the steering wheel so hard her knuckles showed beneath her skin. She needed to stop and see what was going on. How had someone who'd been killed come back to life? And was Rover merely in a panic because he'd regained consciousness in a dark, confined space? Or was he trying to knock out a taillight in hopes of gaining the attention of the car following behind?

She couldn't believe he was still breathing, let alone coherent enough to execute such a plan. He was too young to be that smart, too scared to defy them. But?if he was alive?Rover had to know this was the end. He'd never see his parents again if he didn't do something. Wouldn't that make him willing to take any risk?

Tiffany wasn't sure. It always astonished her how cowed and controllable the teenagers her husband brought home really were. Colin had a way with them, knew just the type of individual to pick.

Another thunk caused her palms to grow slick with sweat. Damn it! This wasn't supposed to happen. It'd certainly never happened before.

Could anyone else hear the racket Rover was making?

She glanced in her rearview mirror. The black SUV that'd been following her for the past few miles was still there. The driver, a middle-aged woman wearing sunglasses, had lowered her window to take advantage of the warm spring weather. The wind blew her dark hair back, revealing an oval face with full lips, the kind of face Colin would probably find attractive, despite the obvious age difference. But the woman didn't look any more interested in Tiffany than she had before.

Or maybe she was. She seemed closer now?.

More movement, sounds of distress, drew Tiffany's nerves taut. I've got to pull over.

But if the driver of the SUV had seen or heard anything unusual, she might stop, too. And how would Tiffany explain having a boy in her trunk? Especially one in Rover's condition?

Think! It was better to keep driving. She'd turn at the next light and hope the SUV went straight. There were several ways to get to Highway 50. Once out of the city, beyond Placerville, she could pull down a dirt road in the mountains where she'd be hidden by pine trees.

But then what? It was one thing to dump a body, another to be the reason that person was no longer living.

The noise coming from her trunk became louder, more insistent. If the lady behind her didn't hear it, a pedestrian at the next crosswalk could.

Tiffany drew in a deep breath. She had to get this right or Colin would be upset. And if she screwed up, they'd both go to prison.

Heart hammering, she reached into her purse and fumbled around until she located her cell and managed to push the speed-dial button that would ring her husband's cell.

"Hello?"

"Colin, he's alive!" she blurted into the pause that followed, but then his recorded voice cut in and she realized she'd gotten his voice mail.

"I'm afraid I'm not able to take your call right now?"

Frustrated, she punched the End button. Colin thought it was funny to bait people into believing they had him on the phone. She usually laughed when he caught her on it. But she wasn't laughing today. She needed him. Now.

"H-e-l-p! Mo-om? Da-ad? Someone help me!"

That was Rover screaming!

Taking the next right, Tiffany gave her car too much gas. When the tires squealed, two men leaving Lamps Plus looked up, and she regretted her lead foot. She didn't want to draw attention to herself.

At least the black SUV continued down Madison. That was a small relief.

Her hand shook as she dialed Colin's work number. "Come on, hurry. I need to talk to my husband," she muttered through the subsequent ringing.

Finally, Misty, the receptionist with the frizzy red hair, picked up. "Scovil, Potter & Clay Law Offices."

"M-Misty? This is Tiffany Bell. Is my husband there?"

"Let me see." There was a long pause. Then she came back on the line. "He's in a meeting."

"Will you get him for me?"

"He's with the boss."

As a new hire only a year out of law school, Colin had to be careful to keep the other lawyers happy, especially Walter Scovil, the most senior of the senior partners. But nothing was more important than this.

"I'm sorry, it's an emergency."

"Oh! Is everything okay?"

Hoping to stanch the tears burning behind her eyes, Tiffany blinked repeatedly. "His, um, his mother fell and? and she's hurt."

Colin hated his mother, wouldn't have walked across the street to see her even if she was on her deathbed, but most people didn't know that. It wasn't something he typically shared. They both knew what other people would think if they heard him calling his mother the names he used.

"I feel terrible," the receptionist said. "I'll get him for you."

The stoplight ahead turned red, and traffic in front of Tiffany began to slow. She studied the intersection, wondering if she could switch into the right-hand-turn lane, or catch a green arrow on the left. Anything to avoid coming to a complete stop. But too many vehicles blocked the way. She had no choice but to wait for the light.

Biting her lip, she eased her foot onto the brake? and let her breath go only when she didn't hear a peep from Rover. Did that mean he'd died?

"Tiffany, why are you calling?"

At the sound of her husband's voice, she lost the battle she'd been fighting with her emotions. As she wiped the tears rolling down her cheeks, she saw the man in the truck next to her staring and averted her eyes. "It's Rover," she whispered into the phone.

"What's wrong?"

"He's alive."

"What?"

"He's alive!"

"He can't be."

"He is. He's in the trunk banging around and crying for help."

"Then pull over and take care of it!"

"Here? In the middle of Fair Oaks?"

"Shit! No, of course not." He was silent for a few seconds. "What street are you on?"

"I'm heading south on Hazel, trying to reach Highway 50."

"Wait until you get out of town, then pull over and deal with the problem."

She'd figured out that much. It was what came next that made her uneasy. "What do you mean, 'deal with the problem'?"

He kept his response low. "Just what I said. Finish the job."

Kill Rover? Herself? Her stomach flip-flopped at the thought. The boy had been Colin's toy; the cleanup should be Colin's job. "But? I don't have a weapon."

"Use a piece of wood or? or a rock if you have to. It's not hard."

Tiffany's jaw went slack. How had what'd started as a little fun grown into this? Sometimes, lying awake at night, she couldn't believe how badly their lives were spinning out of control. And yet she didn't know how to stop it. Colin didn't even want to try. He was too addicted to the adrenaline rush, to the sexual excitement, to the power, and he'd sucked her in with him by repeating the same old promise, "Just one more time. I'll quit after this."

Now she wasn't only participating in a peripheral way; she was tying up his loose ends. "You're kidding, right? You know I don't have the nerve for? for that."

"You don't have a choice!"

The light turned green. The guy in the truck next to her gave her an appreciative smile as they both accelerated, but she wasn't worried that he'd suspect her of any wrongdoing. Rover...