Amber Alert

by Kiki Swinson

Genres: African American Urban; African American Women's Fiction

Synopsis

An explosive portrait of Dirty South revenge, triple-dealing, and crimes of passion as a suburban mom’s high-end criminal past comes back to haunt her, endangering her children—and propelling her into a high-stakes game she remembers all too well . . .

Gone without a trace . . . 
Once the most cunning luxury-car thief in the game, Ava Frost gladly gave it all up to become the wife of a successful Norfolk, Virginia, businessman, and raise their two children in better circumstances than she ever knew. But when the children are abducted—and held for a two-million-dollar ransom—Ava is stunned to discover her husband’s bad deals have drained their fortune. Determined, she pursues her best, and toughest, option: Her ex-boyfriend, the mastermind behind the South’s biggest car theft ring, offers her a chance to gain the money. But nothing ever comes for free, and Nick has a small request . . .

Racing against the clock . . .
Soon Ava is targeting one-of-a-kind cars that must be stolen within impossibly short timeframes. The excitement of the hunt and Ava’s vulnerability is reigniting dangerous heat between her and Nick—just as she’s finding out her husband’s betrayal runs deeper and more hurtful than she ever expected . . .

Running out of time . . .
Now with one heist gone very wrong and the police closing in, Ava’s down to her final chance to keep her bargain with Nick. But with hidden agendas and secret obsessions in play, will even her most skilled moves succeed in bringing her children home—or destroy everything she’s fighting to save?

Release date: November 26, 2024

Publisher: Kensington Books

Print pages: 224

Sample

“TIME TO GET UP,” I SHOUTED FROM THE HALLWAY OUTSIDE OF my bedroom. It was six-thirty, April 10, 2024, on a Wednesday morning, time for the kids to get up and get ready for school. Normally, my husband, Kevin, would do this part, but he was out of town on business, so I had been stuck dragging the kids out of bed these past couple of days. Getting resistance was something of the norm with my little kiddos. They always procrastinated getting out of bed in the morning to go to school, so I prepped myself for the pushback.

I entered Little Kevin’s room first because he was the hardest one to get out of bed. To my surprise he was already up. I figured he was downstairs, probably eating a bowl of cereal or something, so I went into Kammy’s bedroom next. “It’s time to get up, my darling,” I said as I entered my baby girl’s room. But just like Little Kevin, she wasn’t in bed, either. I knew then that she had gone downstairs with her brother to eat breakfast, so I made my way down to the kitchen to see what my little kiddos were doing.

On my way I pictured cereal crumbs and spilled milk on the kitchen table, with the milk carton sitting a few inches away from the bowl at room temperature. I was sure Little Kevin and Kammy were fighting over who got to look at the pictures on the cereal box. When I turned the corner and made my way into the kitchen, I saw that it was empty. In seeing that Little Kevin and Kammy were nowhere in sight, I paused for a second and tried to collect my thoughts.

“Wait a minute,” I mumbled to myself. Then I turned in the opposite direction and called out their names. “Kammy! Little Kevin, where are y’all?” I yelled out loud enough so that they could hear me throughout the entire house. But I got no answer. So I called their names again. “Kammy! Little Kevin, where are you?” I shouted even louder.

Paulina heard me calling the kids’ names and appeared from her bedroom. She stood over the balcony of the hallway, dressed in her pajamas and robe. She looked down at me in the living-room quarters of the house.

“Are the kids in the room with you?” I asked her.

“No, they’re not,” she replied. “Have you checked the garage or outside?”

“I am now. But I want you to check the bathroom, all the closets, and underneath their beds, because it sounds like they’re playing a game of hide-and-seek,” I told her.

“They better not be . . .” Paulina’s voice trailed off.

While Paulina searched upstairs, I started looking everywhere I could think of that the kids could hide. First I went into the garage and then I exited the house through the side door. When I realized they weren’t out there, I walked back into the house and searched all the closets, underneath all the tables—still, there was no sign of them. This immediately became a cause for alarm and I panicked.

“Paulina, did you find them yet?” I shouted from the living room.

Paulina appeared on the balcony. “No,” she responded somberly.

“Oh, my God, Paulina, where are my kids?” I asked helplessly. I was actually at a loss for words, and I couldn’t think straight, either.

“I don’t know, but they’re not in the house, so they must be outside. Maybe the backyard,” Paulina suggested as she made her way downstairs. I didn’t wait for her. I raced back through the kitchen and headed toward the side door, which led to my backyard. I heard Paulina in the distance, so I knew that she was behind me, but I kept going. Finding out where my kids were was eating me up inside. By the time I made it around the corner of my house, I heard Paulina scream. It startled the hell out of me, and I stopped in my tracks. When I turned around and saw that she wasn’t behind me, I realized the scream came from the house, so I ran back in that direction.

When I reentered my home, I saw Paulina standing in the kitchen, holding a note in her hand. I ran toward her and snatched it out of her hands. The first words I read were written in bold: DO NOT CALL THE COPS OR YOUR KIDS WILL DIE! Reading those words, I instantly became sick and wanted to vomit. Instead, I continued to read on: Your kids are safe and will be returned to you if you pay their two-million-dollar ransom. You have seventy-two hours to come up with the money. If you don’t, then you will never see your children again. And let me please remind you that you must not call the cops. If you do, your kids will die! On the third day, phone us at 555-694-1138 and we will be in touch with ransom delivery instructions.

“Oh, my God, Paulina, these people have my kids!” I screamed and broke down into tears. Paulina embraced me and held me tight. She tried to calm me by saying, “Don’t worry! We’re gonna get them back.”

“But what if we don’t, Paulina? They’re asking for two million dollars.” I became doubtful.

“We gotta think positive. Now, let’s get Mr. Frost on the phone and he will come home, get the money together, and we can have our babies home by tonight,” she assured me while handing me the cordless phone, which was nearby on the island.

I dialed my husband’s cell phone number, and it rang five times before he answered.

“Hello,” he said, sounding as if he had just woken up.

“Kevin,” I screamed through the phone. Fear had penetrated my entire heart and placed a dark cloud over my head. It felt like I was drowning in heartache and confusion. I couldn’t quite put my thoughts together, either. It felt like I was losing all my senses.

“What’s wrong?” he replied.

“The kids are gone. Someone took them,” I added.

“What do you mean, ‘Someone took them’?” My outburst definitely alarmed him.

“Someone kidnapped them, Kevin.” I began to cry.

“How do you know that?”

“Because they’re not here and I’m holding a ransom note in my hand.”

“What fucking ransom note?” His voice screeched. “What does it say?”

“It says that we have your kids, and if you want them back, you must come up with two million dollars. Right now, they are fine. But if you call the cops, you will never see them again. Someone will get in touch with you very soon with drop-off instructions,” I paraphrased.

He shouted through the phone. “Is that it?”

“Yes, that’s all that’s in this letter.”

“When did you find it?”

“After I searched the entire house for the kids.”

“Where did you find the letter?”

“On the kitchen table.”

“How long ago did you find the letter?”

“A few minutes ago.”

“Wait, what time is it?” he asked. I could hear him shuffling things around in the background.

“It’s a little after seven o’clock,” I managed to say.

“Where is Paulina?”

“She’s right here, standing next to me.”

“Did she stay there last night?”

“Yes.”

“Did she hear anything?”

“She said she didn’t.”

“What time did you guys go to bed last night?”

“The kids were in bed around ten o’clock. Paulina, a little bit after that. I probably dozed off around midnight.” I continued to cry. Tears saturated my face.

“So that means they were taken sometime after midnight and just before dawn?” Kevin calculated aloud.

This announcement hurt me to the core, and I screamed out in agony. “Noooooo! Don’t say that,” I cried out once more. The pain was becoming unbearable.

“Ava, this is not the time to break down. We’ve got to stay strong and positive,” Kevin coached me.

“I know, Kevin, but those are my babies, and we need to hurry up and get them back,” I whined, and with good reason.

“And we will,” Kevin said. Then he fell silent for a couple of seconds. My sobs were all you could hear.

“This just doesn’t make any sense. I mean, who could do this?” Kevin asked out loud.

“If I knew, I wouldn’t be calling you,” I replied sarcastically.

“And what is that supposed to mean?”

“You should’ve been here. If you were here, none of this would’ve happened. Our kids would probably be in bed right now as we speak. But no, you’re always away from the house. Doing God knows what, while I’m here taking care of the kids by myself. And now, look at the mess we’re in. Someone has my fucking kids, and I don’t know where they are, or if they’re all right!” I shouted through the phone. I wanted Kevin to know that his presence could’ve prevented this from happening. From my perspective he was the reason why the kids were abducted right under my nose.

“Look, Ava, just calm down and don’t do anything until I get there. I’m hopping on the next plane out of Canada. I’ll be back in a few hours. When I get home, we’ll figure out how to get our hands on that kind of money,” Kevin assured me before ending the call.

After this conversation I collapsed on the sofa and Paulina sat next to me. All I could think about was where my babies could be and who had them? More importantly, why they wanted so much money from us? Two million was a lot of freaking money. With Kevin’s flashy image and storefront businesses, it’s easy to see why the kidnappers thought we had that kind of money. It wouldn’t be hard to believe that the kidnappers also knew that Kevin wasn’t going to be home last night, either. They somehow knew he was on a business trip in Canada, trying to secure an auto parts deal with a Canadian businessman.

What Kevin does is sell luxury cars at a storefront location. He also has an auto parts store, which is why he’s trying to secure that deal in Canada. This deal could make him a lot of money and potentially allow him to open a few more stores in the area. It could definitely be a franchise opportunity, something that he’s been wanting for a very long time. Now, I understand his work ethic, but when it takes time away from the family, as it always does, that’s when I have a problem. Don’t get me wrong, Kevin is a great provider, and he’s a good father, but the constant time away from home creates this intense wedge—and chaos wreaks havoc. But hey, what can I say? I signed up for this when I said, “I do.” So I guess I gotta deal with the bullshit that comes along with him.

“So, what did he say?” Paulina wanted to know.

“He said that he was going to get on the next flight out of Canada.”

“So he’s on his way back home?”

“He better be,” I hissed, wiping the tears from my eyes with the back of my hand.

Immediately after I ended the call with Kevin, I called my father. He is a seventy-one-year-old retiree who sits at home and watches television all day. He used to go on fishing trips regularly, but ever since my mother came down with dementia, he generally never leaves the house unless he has to run errands. When I’m not doing anything, I run the errands for him. My dad is a good man, and despite the chaotic lifestyle I used to live, he never judged or disowned me. That’s why I’ve never lied to him, and I keep him in the loop about everything that goes on in my life. He’s basically my best friend, since I don’t have any siblings or close female friends. But now, I wrestled with the thought of telling him about the kids, because I didn’t need him calling the cops. But I knew that I couldn’t keep this type of information from him. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if something happened, and I didn’t get my babies back.

“Daddy, what took you so long to answer the phone?” I asked him after he finally answered on the fifth ring.

He started chuckling. “I was letting the nurse into the house when the phone started ringing.”

“Is it the same nurse?” I asked him.

“Yes, we still have Nancy. She’s been good to us,” he said joyfully. Then he changed the subject on me. “So, what’s up? Where are the kids?”

I became serious. “Dad, I need you to come over.”

“Is there something wrong?” He seemed concerned.

“I can’t talk about it over the phone,” I said adamantly.

He pressed me. “Are the kids all right?”

“No, they’re not. Can you please come over?” I insisted, hoping he would take my direction.

“Okay, I’m on my way.”

“BABY, WHAT’S GOING ON?” TY ASKED ME AS SHE EASED HER WAY to my side of the bed.

She was wearing the fitted black lace lingerie piece I had purchased for her from the mall the day before. It was our second-year anniversary—unofficially, of course. Ty and I have secretly been together this long, and we have a three-month-old baby girl, whom I named after my mother, Annabelle. I wasn’t in Canada, like Ava believed. I was actually in a town outside of Richmond, Virginia, an hour north of where Ava and I live. I met Ty Peeples on a flight from Richmond to Norfolk two years back. It was like love at first sight. She was one of the flight attendants, and we hit it off very well. We exchanged numbers, called one another, and things escalated from there.

A few months later, she invited me to her apartment, so I drove to Richmond. That night turned into a weekend-long visit and we’ve been together ever since. After an eighteen-monthlong courtship, I moved Ty out of her apartment and into a home after I found out she was having my baby. I couldn’t have her raise my child in a one-bedroom apartment. My conscience wouldn’t allow that. Now, I know you’re wondering, where is that same level of conscience when it pertains to Ava? Does she know about my secret life here? The answer is a resounding “no.”

If Ava found out about Ty and the baby, she would probably try to kill me. Needless to say, I am going to do everything in my power to keep it quiet. Now, does Ty know about Ava? Of course, she does, and she’s okay with it, too. Does she nag me about moving in with her full-time and leaving Ava? Of course, she does. I hear it all the time. But after I remind her about all the assets and property Ava and I have tied up together, and how it would take years and courts to divide these things up, she backs down and that gives me more time to live the lie that I’m living. All I have to say is: “Just give me a little more time to get enough money to give her a nice settlement, that way I don’t have to give all the lawyers their attorney fees in divorce court. Because, otherwise, she will bankrupt me and then what will you have?” This bogus line works every time.

“Ava said someone came in and kidnapped the kids while she was asleep,” I finally answered her after standing up from the bed.

“Are you serious?” she questioned me. Ty seemed baffled.

“I wouldn’t joke about anything like that,” I told her as I slid on my boxer briefs.

Ty sat up in bed, as if gathering her thoughts. “So, when did this happen?”

“She’s not sure. Ava said that she just found the ransom note a few minutes ago. According to her, she went to bed around midnight, so it happened after she fell asleep,” I explained.

“Has she called the cops yet?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because the kidnappers told her not to.”

“Of course, they’re gonna do that, but I would call the cops anyway,” Ty protested.

“No, I told her to wait until I get there,” I said while slipping on a T-shirt.

Ty pr. . .