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apartment, security video showing Rick entering the condo with Alice, bank records detailing the transfers with a timestamp and Liam’s IP address, as well as testimony from the security guard, Alice, and, once again, Catherine. At sentencing, Rick attempted to use the cost of his mom’s care to justify his actions. It didn’t play as well as he’d hoped.

But when it was over, Liam made a trip to Heartland Nursing Home to meet the woman for himself. He wasn’t sure why. Perhaps he was just curious.

Although a nurse told Liam it was increasingly rare, Susan Hawthorne was lucid that day. She was kind and believed her son made his living as a franchisee of several Subway restaurants. Then Liam asked around and found out that the fake ID with Chris’s name on it was turned into Felix Winkler, and when he went to thank Felix, he relayed the justification Rick had told to the jury about needing the money for his mother’s care.

“What will happen to her if nobody pays her bills?” Liam asked.

Felix sighed. “It’s not your problem.”

That was true, but Susan didn’t deserve to suffer for the sins of her son, and since Liam could afford to pay for the care, he said he would. He owed it to Susan, or Felix, or maybe the nursing home in general. He wasn’t sure. All he knew was that if the staff hadn’t found that ID and if Felix hadn’t called Chris when he did, things would have been much worse.

It took less than a year for the kids to entirely adjust to living with Liam and Alice to once again seem like herself.

Over that year, Liam met with Anita at The Griddle on numerous occasions for some unofficial therapy for them both. They talked mostly about Elise, reminiscing and, through sharing their separate memories, finding some peace. As time passed, the meetings became less frequent. Today, exactly one year since Elise had died, he realized he and Anita hadn’t spoken for over two months. He called her up to see if she’d like to meet at The Griddle for one last chat.

And it was indeed their last one. Life had taken over and they were both too busy to do it again. But it was also a nice way to say goodbye once and for all.

UP NEXT: BURIED

When the earthquake hits, the narrow, corkscrew turn that leads into the labyrinth of tunnels underneath the North Georgia mountains collapses. Martin Campbell and his friends are stranded. But being trapped underground might not be the worst of their problems. Each of the cavers has brought secrets into these tunnels. And they are secrets that at least one of them is willing to kill for.

Readers have said: “If you like suspense with an edge, you will love this novel.”

BURIED

PROLOGUE

THE LAST SIGNIFICANT earthquake to hit the East Coast ripped through Charleston, South Carolina, in 1886. The quake measured a 7.0 on the Richter scale, toppling buildings, twisting train tracks, and killing nearly sixty people. Even as far as Georgia, walls cracked and windows broke.

While quakes of this magnitude are unusual in the Southeast, smaller ones are not. On average, Georgia experiences a magnitude 4.0 earthquake every eight years. These cause minor damage but are often subtle enough to go unnoticed by anyone not directly impacted.

Deadly quakes in the eastern United States are especially hard to predict because seismic activity can occur inside a tectonic plate, not just on its borders, and because most quakes that have struck the eastern United States have hit areas not previously known for seismic activity.

However, while researchers expect East Coast tragedies like the one in Charleston to occur about once every hundred years, significant seismic activity in or around Georgia is so rare that people often forget it happens at all.

SUNSET

NOW AND THEN

WHEN THE ONLY thing standing between you and freedom is a wall of fallen rock, you dig. So that’s exactly what Martin did. Dressed in jeans and a long-sleeved cotton shirt, spelunking helmet strapped to his head and gloves on, he scraped and clawed at the rubble. Sweat dripped down his cheeks.

He was flanked by his friends Cynthia and Ethan, who were likewise decked out in caving attire and working equally hard to clear the tunnel.

Behind them—Paul, their guide, and Gina, Martin’s sister. They were not any help, though. Paul had had his legs crushed when a stalactite fell during the earthquake, and Gina, who was not only Martin’s sister but also Paul’s girlfriend, was doing her best to tend to him.

“Everything’s going to be fine,” Cynthia said.

Martin wasn’t so sure. After all, they were more than fifty feet from the cave’s entrance. Only God knew how many pounds of debris they would have to clear to escape.

And to think: just last week, he had considered calling off the trip.

Ethan had almost choked on his beer when Martin told him. “You’re yankin’ my chain, right?”

They were sitting in a bar on Myrtle Avenue called Gunshot Pop’s. They’d taken a table near the bathrooms. The floors were sticky from spilled beer. Nineties rock, almost too loud to talk over, blasted out of speakers that seemed to be everywhere. The place was a dive. But at less than a block from National Bank where they both worked, it was also convenient.

Martin loosened his tie just enough to open the top button on his shirt. “I’m serious. I’m starting to have some reservations.”

“Reservations? What do you mean reservations? You mean you’re starting to wuss out, is that what you mean?”

“I wouldn’t call it that.”

Ethan rolled his eyes. “What would you call it?”

Martin shrugged. When Ethan realized he wasn’t going to answer, he added, “Well, fuck me, when did this start to happen?”

“Last night. Before I went to sleep. I just kept thinking about—”

There was a squeal of metal on metal. It was the