Exposure

First Monica took a black felt tip pen to the side of each box, writing in large capital letters: Bank Records. Keep.

On the concrete behind the police station, Monica left the Volvo idling as she unlocked the basement’s wide double doors. She pulled them back, drove her car inside, and shut them. One night-shift policeman would be on patrol in town. Not likely he’d find her down there, if he happened by the station at all. Even if he did, she had reason to be there.

She unlocked the windowless storage room and flipped on the light switch. Back in the Volvo she cut the headlights. The basement fell into darkness lit only by the light seeping from the empty storage area.

“Mommy, I’m scared.” Kaycee started to cry.

“Shh, you have to be quiet.”

“It’s scary!”

“I’ll turn the light on in the car. Stay here.”

Monica practically ran from car to storage room, moving the money, a horrific night from not so long ago playing in her head. Kaycee wouldn’t stop crying. Monica was afraid someone would hear her. One by one she heaved the first six boxes onto the deep rearmost shelves and shoved them to the wall, the writing face out. Her nerves sizzled for her daughter, for the incredible chance she was taking. Kaycee sobbed on.

When the car was emptied, Monica returned to the house for the final load. Kaycee quieted on the way home. But when they entered the basement for a second time, she wailed all over again.

Monica’s throat was dry by the time she pushed the last box of bills into place. She ran to the Volvo and her crying daughter. “It’s okay, Kaycee, it’s okay. Just a little while longer.”

Kaycee’s face was red and splotchy. What Monica had put the little girl through. She’d thought her soul would feel so much lighter without the money. But guilt over Kaycee replaced whatever weight she had lost.

For the next hour Monica hauled the now dry Utility Department supplies off the basement floor and into the room, pushing them in front of the eleven boxes. She didn’t bother to go through and throw anything away. No time, and besides, she wanted as many boxes as possible to hide the ones containing her sins.

Kaycee sobbed all the way home. Monica wanted to cry too. Tonight, finally, it was over. Except now they faced the rest of their lives.

When she got out of the car her legs shook.

“Mommy, hold me.” Kaycee reached out her sweet little arms. Monica picked her up and hugged her tightly. “Shh, it’s okay now. Mommy’s here, she’s always here.” She carried Kaycee into the house, sat down on the couch and rocked her.

“Tomorrow I’ll take you downtown for an ice cream soda.”

A NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR

Dear Reader

Wilmore, Kentucky, is a real town. In fact, I grew up there. The streets in this story are real, the businesses are real. Even many of the houses. All characters are fictional.

When I began this book I promised little to my mother, who still lives in Wilmore, as to how I’d treat her beloved home. “I may or may not blow up the town,” I said.

Happy, Mom?

In Exposure I set out to write a suspenseful tale about fear and how it binds us. Along the way Kaycee’s story deepened to so much more. The consequences of our wrong choices, their fallout on subsequent generations. The irony of sin. The enigmatic workings of the mind. To further pursue thoughts on these underlying themes, please check the website address at the beginning of this book for discussion questions.

And now some serious thank-yous are in order. First, my thanks to Gary and Beth Hoenicke, the true owners of Tastebuds, for allowing me to feature their brick-oven pizzas and old-fashioned soda fountain. If you’re in the Wilmore area, you simply must stop by and order one of each. Tell them Kaycee sent you.

Thanks also to Wilmore Police Chief Steve Boven and Officer Mike Bandy for granting me interviews about how their department would handle some rather odd scenarios and for showing me around the station. Any deviation from their procedures was intentional fictionalizing on my part. My special gratitude to Officer Bandy, who enthusiastically told me not one but four possible scenarios for making the final pages of the epilogue work.

To sweet-faced little Merrick Kasper of Ohio, thanks for allowing me to keep your picture before me as inspiration for Hannah. And my gratitude to Merrick’s mom, Dana, who allowed this strange woman with an even stranger request to photograph her daughter. May you both be blessed.

Many thanks to Sue Brower, my Zondervan editor, and my agent, Lee Hough of Alive Communications, for all you did for this story. And I can’t leave out Bob Hudson, whose careful copy editing tightened details. Rachelle Gardner has freelanced with Zondervan to edit my last three novels, and she’s been fabulous to work with. Rachelle, thanks for your insights. Exposure is a better story because of you.

Most of all, my heartfelt gratitude to you, my readers, for strapping into that seatbelt one more time and rocketing through this ride with me. May you face and conquer your fears through God’s power.