On their first date back in law school, Natalie and Will Clarke bonded over drinks, dinner and whether they could get away with murder. Now married, they’ll put the latter to the test when an unchecked danger in their community places their son in jeopardy. Working as a criminal defense attorney, Nat refuses to rely on the broken legal system to keep her family safe. She knows that if you want justice…you have to get it yourself.
Shocked to discover Nat’s taken matters into her own hands, Will has no choice but to dirty his, also. His family is in way too deep to back down now. He’s just not sure he recognizes the woman he married. Nat’s always been fiercely protective, but never this ruthless or calculating. With the police poking holes in their airtight plan, what will be the first to fall apart: their scandalous secret—or their marriage?
I hadn’t known it at the time, but it was the last normal weekend of my life.
If I had known what was coming, I might have chosen to spend those days differently. I wouldn’t have wasted time cleaning out the refrigerator, for example, or spent that hour running to nowhere on the treadmill at the gym. But no matter what was looming, I still wouldn’t have missed our family’s weekly trip to the beach on that beautiful Sunday in late February.
It was one of the best parts about living in our small seaside Florida town of Shoreham. Most of the rest of the country was digging out from under the most recent snow storm and shivering through frigid temperatures, and we were enjoying perfect beach weather. Not too hot, not too cold.
“Come on, you guys,” Charlie yelled over his shoulder, as he thumped up the wooden boardwalk that led from the parking lot to the beach. He was leading our dog, Rocket, on a blue nylon leash, and the black dog trotted after him, his favorite ratty tennis ball clenched in his teeth.The boardwalk sloped crookedly over the dunes, winding through overgrown sea grape shrubs, and they were both soon out of my sight.
“I guess he’s not waiting for us,” I commented.
Will was pulling our beach chairs and assorted gear out from the back of our SUV.
“Do you want me to carry the beach bag?” he asked.
“No, I’ve got it.” I heaved the bag up onto my shoulder.
“Are you sure? That thing weighs a ton.”
“I said I’ve got it.” I headed toward the boardwalk, Will trailing after me. We’d started the tradition of going to the beach every Sunday morning that the weather allowed, no matter what my trial schedule looked like, or how busy Will was at the office, when Charlie was still a toddler. Back then, Charlie’s favorite beach activity was to stand at the shoreline, and play tag with the water as it rolled in. He’d run from it, giggling and screeching when it reached his plump little feet. The memory always made me smile, especially now that Charlie was eleven, and his baby years had disappeared into the mist, never to return.
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