A DVA NCE R E A DER’S COPY — U NCOR R EC TED PROOF
PRAISE FOR VICTORIA HELEN STONE
Evelyn, After
“Hands down, the best book I’ve read this year. Brilliant,
compelling and haunting.”
—Suzanne Brockmann, New York Times bestselling
author
“Readers will cheer on Evelyn when the power dynamic
with her lying, cheating husband shifts, even while they
watch her flirting with disaster in her steamy affair with
Noah. A solid choice for Liane Moriarty readers.”
— Library Journal
“Stone (a nom de plume of romance writer Victoria Dahl)
… ably switches to darker suspense in a compelling story
exploring what lurks behind a seemingly perfect life.”
— Booklist
“Stone pens a great story that will have readers wonder-
ing what will happen next to the characters involved in
this mysterious tale … Fascinating tale told by a talented
storyteller!”
—RT Book Reviews
“Victoria Helen Stone renders the obsessions and weak-
nesses of her characters with scorching insight. Her ster-
ling prose creates a seamless atmosphere of anticipation
and dread, while delivering devastating truths about the
nature of sex, relationships, and lies, often with a humor
that’s rapier-sharp. Evelyn, After reads like Gone Girl with a bigger heart and a stronger moral core.”
—Christopher Rice, New York Times bestselling author
Half Past
“A gripping, haunting exploration of the lengths to which
we’ll go to belong, Half Past will hold you in its thrall until the very last page. Stone’s expert storytelling, vivid characterizations, and tantalizing dropping of clues left
me utterly breathless, longing for more—and a newly
minted Victoria Helen Stone fan!”
—Emily Carpenter, bestselling author of Burying the
Honeysuckle Girls and The Weight of Lies
“A captivating, suspenseful tale of love and lies, mystery
and self-discovery, Half Past kept me flipping the pages through the final, startling twist.”
—A. J. Banner, #1 Kindle and USA Today bestselling
author of The Good Neighbor and The Twilight Wife
“What would you do if you found out that your mother
wasn’t your biological mother? Would you go looking for
the answer to how that happened if she couldn’t provide
an explanation? That’s the intriguing question at the heart of Half Past, Stone’s strong follow-up to Evelyn, After. [It’s]
both a mystery and an exploration of what family really
means. Fans of Jodi Picoult will race through this.”
—Catherine McKenzie, bestselling author of Hidden
and The Good Liar
Jane Doe
“Stone does a masterful job of creating in Jane a complex
character, making her both scary and more than a little
appealing … This beautifully balanced thriller will keep
readers tense, surprised, pleased, and surprised again as a master manipulator unfolds her plan of revenge.”
— Kirkus Reviews (starred review)
“Revenge drives this fascinating thriller … Stone keeps
the suspense high throughout. Readers will relish Jane’s
Machiavellian maneuvers to even the score with the
unlikable Steven.”
— Publishers Weekly
“Crafty, interesting, and vengeful.”
—NovelGossip
“Crazy great book!”
— Good Life Family magazine
“Stone skillfully, deviously and gleefully leads the reader down a garden path to a knockout WHAM-O of an
ending. Jane Doe will not disappoint.”
—New York Journal of Books
“Jane Doe is a riveting, engrossing story about a man who screws over the wrong woman, with a picture-perfect
ending that’s the equivalent of a big red bow on a shiny
new car. It’s that good. Ladies, we finally have the revenge story we’ve always deserved.”
—Criminal Element
“Jane, the self-described sociopath at the center of Victoria Helen Stone’s novel, [is] filling a hole in storytelling that we’ve long been waiting for.”
—Bitch Media
“We loved being propelled into the complicated mind of Jane, intrigued as she bobbed and weaved her way
you’ll be debating whether to make Jane your new best
friend or lock your door and hide from her in fear. Jane Doe is a must-read!”
—Liz Fenton and Lisa Steinke, bestselling authors of
The Good Widow
“With biting wit and a complete disregard for societal
double standards, Victoria Helen Stone’s antihero will
slice a path through your expectations and leave you
begging for more. Make room in the darkest corner of
your heart for Jane Doe.”
—Eliza Maxwell, bestselling author of
The Unremembered Girl
“If revenge is a dish best served cold, Jane Doe is Julia
Child. Though Jane’s a heroine who claims to be a socio-
path, Jane’s heart and soul shine through in this addicting, suspenseful tale of love, loss, and justice.”
—Wendy Webb, bestselling author of
The End of Temperance Dare
“One word: wow. This novel is compelling from the first
sentence. An emotional ride with a deliciously vengeful
narrator, Jane’s tale keeps readers on the edge without
the security of knowing who the good guy really is.
Honest, cutting, and at times even humorous, this is one
powerhouse of a read!”
—Brandi Reeds, bestselling author of Trespassing
False Step
“[A] cleverly plotted thriller … Danger and savage emo-
tions surface as [Veronica] discovers that she’s not the only one whose life is built on secrets and lies. Stone keeps the reader guessing to the end.”
— Publishers Weekly
“Intense and chilling, False Step wickedly rewards thriller fans with a compulsive read that’ll leave readers wondering how well they know their loved ones. I was riveted!”
—Kerry Lonsdale, Amazon Charts and Wall Street
Journal bestselling author
PROBLEM CHILD
ALSO BY VICTORIA HELEN STONE
Evelyn, After
Half Past
Jane Doe
False Step
PROBLEM CHILD
A Jane Doe Thriller
VICTORIA HELEN STONE
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Text copyright © 2020 by Victoria Helen Stone
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
Published by Lake Union Publishing, Seattle
www.apub
.com
Amazon, the Amazon logo, and Lake Union Publishing are trademarks of Amazon.com, Inc., or its affiliates.
ISBN-13: 9781542014397
ISBN-10: 1542014395
Cover design by Faceout Studios, Derek Thornton
Printed in the United States of America
CHAPTER ONE
He’s in my office again, bothering me. It bothers me just
to look at him, but it particularly bothers me when he
speaks, and Rob speaks a lot, plumped up on mediocre
male confidence and throbbing, virile ego. He’s the part-
ners’ favorite, so until I take care of him, I have to play it as nicely as I can; but when we’re alone, I don’t bother. I turn dead eyes on him and stare as he prattles.
“Regardless of all that,” he says, continuing whatever
train of thought I’ve blocked out, “you did a pretty good
job with this one, Jane.”
“I did a great job,” I counter.
“Like I said, pretty good. I’ll turn over the final num-
bers to—”
“I already sent the final numbers to the partners, with
appropriate credit where it was due. It’s all taken care of.
Thanks, Robert. You can go.”
He blinks, spun into confusion by being casually
dismissed. “Excuse me?”
“I took care of the details. Wasn’t that what you told
me to do, Robert? ‘Take care of the details’? I sent the
wrap-up email to the partners so you wouldn’t have to
bother with it. You’re welcome.”
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Victoria Helen Stone
“Oh no, did I forget to cc you? I guess I was tired
from all those late hours last week. I’ll be sure to forward it right now.” I smile and hit a few keys on my laptop.
The original email wings its way to his account. I also
forward the praise-filled responses from two of the found-
ing partners of the law firm, along with my enthusiastic
and upbeat thank-yous. Rob can respond now, of course,
but he’ll still be the guy who stumbled up an hour af-
ter all the action, trying to get a leftover piece. A mere
postscript. Poor Rob.
He’s staring at me. I cut my narrowed eyes toward
him. “Is there something else you need?”
Rob has been outmaneuvered and he knows it, but he
can’t reasonably assume it was anything but helpful gump-
tion on my part. His stupid little lipless hole of a mouth
bubbles open and closed like he’s a goldfish. Pop, pop.
The trill of my phone cuts off his shocked bubbling.
“Oh, I’d better get this. Thank you so much for coming
by, Robert. And hey, good job.”
His eyes widen at the indignity of being praised by
someone lower on the ladder, as if I’ve snuck up the rungs
and peed on his head in passing. “I’ll see you at the meet-
ing later.” I wink as I say hello into the receiver.
“There’s a woman calling for you,” the receptionist
intones in a voice that’s a strange combination of chirpy
and depressed. She’s an odd, forlorn bird. “She says it’s
about your niece.”
My niece? Luke has a niece, but I don’t. Well, I do,
actually. Three of them. Could be four by now if my
brother got even one moment out of jail between sentences
last year, but I don’t know any of them.
“Send her to voice mail.”
“She says it’s important.”
2
Problem Child
“Voice mail is fine.” I hang up and find I am bless-
edly alone. A new email arrives. It’s Rob responding at
long last to the partners’ praise. Tsk, tsk, Robert. Not
very responsible.
Mid-grin, I realize it’s almost lunchtime, and I’m
instantly famished. I woke up this morning craving the
lobster ravioli at a restaurant two blocks from my down-
town law office, and I hop up from my seat with a water-
ing mouth and a simply fantastic idea.
“Robert!” I call across the hallway. His office faces
mine, but we don’t face each other. He has his desk angled
for privacy so he can look like he’s hard at work even
when he’s trolling Tinder. I have mine near the door so
I can watch every move in the hallway and eavesdrop
on office gossip.
When I pop into his doorway, he’s scowling, still ir-
ritated with me. “Let me take you to lunch!” I exclaim,
making bright eyes at him.
His gaze narrows at this shift. I smile wider. “As a
thank-you for guiding me through this negotiation. What
a bear, huh?”
The truth is this contract was nothing I haven’t man-
aged before, and negotiations were made more difficult
by Rob’s brotastic style. But now he’s blinking and off-
balance. I lean back and wave at the receptionist, who’s
glancing over her shoulder toward me. She waves in
return.
“Come on,” I urge, sticking my head back into Rob’s
office like we’re co-conspirators. “A celebration!”
“Uh, yeah,” he finally answers. “Yeah, sure.”
“I’ve been craving Camille’s all day. That time of
month, you know.” He winces a little at the hint of
bodily functions. I wink in return, which seems to help
3
Victoria Helen Stone
him recover. It’s a lie, of course. I control my body with
ruthless efficiency with nonstop birth control pills.
“Camille’s sounds great,” he says tentatively. “Thanks
for the offer.”
“Are you ready? We’d better not dawdle. We’ve got
that meeting at two.”
“Let’s go.” He grabs a slim-cut peacoat and a tastefully
masculine cashmere scarf to ward off the slight chill of
the cool September afternoon, but then he just drapes
the scarf over the lapels, which won’t ward off anything
except dandruff. I snag my purse and a new red raincoat
from my office and bounce happily toward the door. The
receptionist, Amy, looks woefully cheerful at this scene
of camaraderie.
I’m so hungry.
As we step into the elevator, I ask Rob about another
case, and that flips the switch to get him talking again. So much talking. An embarrassment of talking, because he
knows so much, our Rob. So much, and all I can do is soak
it in and learn. I’ve been at the firm for a year now and I’ve become a crucial member of the team, the point man, so
to speak, on international contract negotiations. But I’m
still a woman, so I will always still have so much to learn.
He begins to explain a complicated contract between
an American car parts company and a Vietnamese manu-
facturer, because he’s forgotten that I helped the firm
hammer out the details during my first month on the
job. “These guys were unbelievable,” he says. “They were
hoping the trade war meant they could—”
But I’m thinking about lobster ravioli and the restau-
rant’s famous warm bread, which they serve with salted
butter. Mmm.
4
Problem Child
The day is colder than it looks
; an early arctic front
has dipped down from Canada to bring a shiver to the
sunny day, and I love it. No more buzzing mosquitos. Or
buzzing lithe-limbed girls wearing tiny shorts as they try
to flirt with my boyfriend. Try and fail.
I have the sex drive of a woman who’s unable to
process shame or self-consciousness, so their buzzing is
a mere annoyance. I keep him very busy. But I’ve never
had a real boyfriend before, so I sometimes find it hard to control my temper when I see them trying to steal what’s
mine. Mine. Those little girls are easy to scare off with an icy-eyed hiss, and if that doesn’t work, there’s always
a well-timed foot to trip them up on their way past the
table. Still, I’m satisfied that they’ll have to put their ass cheeks away for a few months now. Buttocks are a summer accessory this far north in the world.
We’re walking toward my condo—the restaurant is
halfway between my office and the home I share with my
cat—so I’m on familiar turf as Rob continues explaining
shit I already know.
My place of work is biased toward men, as most law
firms are. If I were still in my twenties, I’d have already slept with one of the married partners and leveraged that
into a fast track, because why not? There’s only one female partner out of eight at this firm, and I’ve heard several of the men make secret, snide comments about her “time
off.” Her time off was to have a baby and then recover
from massive hemorrhaging during the birth, and that
was three full years ago. They can’t seem to understand
why she wasn’t smart enough to simply marry a woman
and get that female to stay home and whelp progeny the
way they did.
5
Victoria Helen Stone
That’s why Rob is their current favorite for becoming
partner. No maternity leave, and no paternity leave for
that broseph either. He’s only been married for two years,
and even though they have no children, his wife still stays home. “She’s an amazing girl,” he says reverently. Also,
he’s screwing the mournful receptionist on the side. I
wonder if she sounds sad when she comes.
Just kidding. I’m sure he never bothers to get her off.
When we arrive at the restaurant, I grab the door
and hold it open for Rob. “After you,” I offer cheerfully.
“Why, thank you, sir,” he responds.
“Would you get a table? I need to run to the rest-
room.” I leave him behind, no doubt horrified at my