TICK TOCK RUN (Romantic Mystery Thriller)

by H Elliston

  I traded a suspicious stare with Lee, eyes burning into each other for what seemed like forever.

  He took a deep breath. “Let’s find out what’s going on, shall we?”

  Lee turned his back and walked ahead of me along the street. I wanted to discover if my email was connected to his dead brother.

  Or did I?

  I gnawed the inside of my lip, then moved and followed him.

  He passed the lingerie store and turned the corner. “Come on. I don’t know when the cafe closes,” he said, speeding ahead as if he’d just cottoned on to the importance of time.

  “Eh? You want coffee?”

  A row of shutters rattled on the approach to the main shopping area. Lee stopped, whirled around and waited at the entrance to a building.

  I jogged nearer. When almost in reach, my phone rang. Laura. “Can’t talk. Phone you later.” I hung up, and jogged over to Lee. Ahr, the internet café. It was new and I’d never been here before. “I get it.”

  Lee held the door open.

  I ducked under his arm, stepped inside and stood under the bright spotlights at the entrance. Numerous desks fenced in by bright, colourful wall dividers sectioned the room into booths. The earthy smell of fresh coffee permeated the air. I heard the grind of a printer in the background.

  Lee pointed to a more private booth on the far wall. “We’ll sit there.” He walked over, sat down, then wheeled the other chair out and gestured for me to join him.

  I sat down. It will all turn out to be a misunderstanding, and then I can concentrate on cheering Laura up.

  Lee swept his long fringe of hair away from his lashes and pointed to the computer screen in front of us. “Let’s get to the bottom of this.”

  I was savvy enough to work out what he wanted, but his low-level grunt confused me. It was like he already knew what was going to happen. I went with it, swivelled my chair until my bent knees slid under the desk. Dust motes swirled in a pocket of light, highlighting the keyboard from above. I cupped my hand over the mouse, resting my wrist on the foam mat.

  A waitress approached our booth.

  “Give us a few minutes, please,” Lee said.

  Five new messages waited in my email inbox. Most were junk, but, spotting one marked ‘urgent’ planted a seed of dread deep within me.

  “Oh, God! I think I’ve got another one here.” While my heart tapped a tune of dread against my ribcage, I closed my eyes and wondered whether I wanted to open the message. Emma’s attempt to put a stop to further emails must have failed.

  This was what I’d hankered for, to find out why it felt like a dead guy was stalking me all weekend. However, I had a breathy moment of uncertainty that I didn’t want this to go any further. I imagined the computer crashing, to give me pause to think. No. I couldn’t ignore the nagging feeling that something was wrong, and that Lee had sensed it, too. Face it. I opened my eyes and told myself, it’s just an email, it’s not as though it’s going to bite me.

  The cursor jumped around the screen. I tried to keep my hand from shaking, but couldn’t.

  Lee stretched across my lap and placed his hand on top of mine. “Let’s see what the message says, shall we?

  I met his eyes. “Sure.”

  We clicked on the link to open the mail. Lee stared so intently at the screen, I could easily have mistaken him for someone who’d never seen an email before.

  The speaker volume sounded low, but not low enough to mute the sharp notes. Tick, tick, tick, repeated in the background as it had in the email I opened on Saturday, mirroring my mounting anxiety.

  I nudged Lee’s hand away and scrolled up and down, then stopped.

  I stared at the title words on the screen:

  ‘Your number’s up!’

  Lee paled within a second. “Oh, hell!” he choked out. “I was afraid it would be the same.”

  Lee’s reaction was larger than I’d expected. It put me on edge.

  The email design was near identical to the first one I’d received, but the clock it displayed was different. Instead of digital, an hourglass timer was in view. The black sand ran like treacle through the narrow gap, sliding into a heap in the bottom dome. Half of the sand had already run through.

  I scrolled down a touch. The words ‘number two,’ shifted up the screen.

  Lee’s body twitched beside me, so I glanced at his face. Confusion flickered in his wide-open eyes. He looked worried.

  I faced the computer screen again, moved the mouse and centred the image. There it was. A second timer.

  “What’s this for?” I asked.

  Lee’s breath grew louder. “Some sort of game.”

  A block of twelve black squares were positioned to the left of a digital clock. Three squares high and four wide. They reminded me of a large, scratchcard panel. A question mark decorated the centre of each square. I focused and read the small print beneath:

  ‘Find two pairs of matching symbols to stop the clock, or pay for what you’ve done.’

  The small timer had already begun counting down.

  “Eh? I didn’t notice this on the last email. What’s going on?” I asked, trying to make sense of it.

  Twenty seconds of playtime remained. Not enough time to think about it logically or to wonder why the game existed.

  “You’d better do something, quick,” Lee said. “Here, let me.”

  “No. I can do it.” I clicked on two random squares on the panel. They flipped over revealing the reverse side. The symbols didn’t match so I clicked on another square, but, it didn’t flip round. “It won’t work.”

  Lee grunted.

  After trying and re-trying, I finally clicked on the previous two squares, which flipped back over to their original position. I knew in this instant I’d wasted precious seconds.

  The timer ran to zero.

  “It’s over,” Lee said. “Oh, hell.”

  “What’s happening? I didn’t do it right, did I?” I asked, perfectly aware of the answer.

  I squinted against a flash of light on the screen - bright, blinding and totally unexpected. The panel of squares blew up in animation, like fragments of a popped balloon, but slower.

  The speakers boomed out a crashing sound, and ‘Game over’ flashed onto the screen.

  I scrolled up the page. “The hourglass timer’s still running.”

  Lee faced me, grabbed my shoulders and stared into my eyes. “Did you notice the time on your other email?” Lee seemed to have an insight that I didn’t. “Was it clearer? Digital? Show me the other email.”

  “Digital, but my friend deleted it, figured it for a virus or something.”

  Lee’s lips pressed into a straight line and he made a throaty grumble. He removed his hands from me. “Can you retrieve it?” he asked.

  With my thoughts in a jumble, I clicked on the ‘recently deleted’ folder and found it empty.

  “No. Emma wiped everything. But hold on, what was that game thing about?”

  He spoke in a rush, “We need to know how much time.”

  How much time until what? “What’s going on here? Why am I getting these emails? Do you know, or not?”

  “How much time you have left.” His voice, frighteningly soft, sent a line of prickles down my spine.

  I didn’t like where this was leading. “I don’t think I want to know any more. I wish I’d never—”

  “The timer on your other email, do you remember when it runs out?” His voice implied I was naive. I wasn’t, but right now, naivety felt like the most sheltered place to be.

  Steeling myself for what I no longer wanted to learn, I tried to picture the numbers on the first timer, but failed.

  His disturbing gaze left me, turned back to the screen.

  “I don’t remember. A few days, perhaps more.” I scratched my head. “So, I was right? This really is something to worry about, isn’t it?”

  “I wish it wasn’t.”

  Rather than answer my questions properly, Lee leaned over, gr
abbed the mouse and logged out. “Move over a second.” He pushed my chair to the side, and typed into the search bar. The patter and bashing on the keyboard sounded like he was playing a short allegro on a muted piano.

  “What are you doing, Lee?”

  “I’m sorry, Chelsea.”

  “Why are you sorry?”

  “This is my brother’s email account. You need to see this.” He pointed at the screen as if the answers to my questions waited there.

  A familiar black background opened. The title on the screen came into focus.

  ‘Tick, tock. Your number’s up first, Daryl.’

  I squirmed in my seat and nearly lost balance while trying to focus on the second line:

  ‘People have to pay for what they’ve done.’

  Lee scrolled down the page and a clock came into view. It was digital. The numbers glowed golden like the first one I’d received, but with one exception; the digits weren’t counting down. I stared at a row of fixed zeros. This was a replica of my email, and it belonged to a dead man.

  Lee let out a heavy breath. “I’m so sorry. Your emails are identical. And look what happened to my brother.”

  “So, these are threats? Someone’s trying to scare me? Make me worry that...” I don’t know why I needed to hear an answer from him. Evidently, the emails were threats.

  Lee nodded while pointing at the big fat zero numbers on the screen. “His timer ran out. He’s dead.”

  I tried to think of an alternative conclusion. “The email and Daryl’s death aren’t necessarily linked. It could be a coincidence.”

  “If I hadn’t read your note I’d never have checked Daryl’s emails, because on Saturday night I assumed you’d made it up, were drunk, or after a story,” Lee said. “But, I did check. And I realise now that he wanted me to find this message. That’s why he texted me that phrase before he died.”

  “Okay. So someone wants to scare me. Well done. They’ve succeeded. But, you can’t be sure this is linked to—”

  Lee drew a frustrated breath. “I’m sure. I’m sorry, Chelsea. There’s no way of breaking this delicately. I think someone’s out to kill you.”

  No. The whole thing seemed crazy and a big part of me refused to believe it. I looked sideways at him. “You have it wrong. I didn’t even know your brother. Someone’s trying to scare me, yes, but kill me?”

  Lee set his hand on my shoulder and unnerved me with his serious glare. “Yes. Kill you.”

  My heart banged faster.

  “Daryl was first. You’re number two. It’s all here in the emails.”

  “I need a minute,” I said, my mind moving in circles. I’d expected my week off work to be for helping Laura organise her wedding, not for going on the run.

  Lee spun my seat until we came face to face.

  I saw enough to notice his pained expression. I’d seen sufficient faces of customers leaving the dental surgery to recognise pain; extraction, fillings. But this look struck me as different. It was deep, an inner pain.

  Only one question stood between knowing and not knowing how seriously to take the threat.

  My cheeks must have been glowing scarlet by now. “Phillip told me Daryl’s death was an accident, but that you’re not convinced. Did your brother jump, slip or what?”

  “The coroner ruled it as an accident.”

  “But you don’t believe that, do you? You wouldn’t be here if you did.” I took his silence as a bad sign and my heart twitched in my chest. “Why don’t you believe the ruling?”

  His lips didn’t part.

  “I need to know.” My voice sounded cracked at the guilt of hoping his brother had committed suicide or slipped. If so, the email meant nothing. I tugged his sleeve. “What I need to know is, is this email an empty threat? You brought me here. Don’t hold back on me now.”

  Leaning in closer, wanting to untangle Lee’s locked-in thoughts, my gaze studied his face. He stonewalled me during an agonizing silence, which suggested he gave his answer serious thought.

  Lee steepled his fingers, then stared point blank into my eyes. “He seemed worried about something, yes. But not depressed. When something troubled him he usually went for a drive, not hike up a goddamn hill. Evidence may suggest an accident, but I knew my brother.”

  “So, you think—”

  “Not think.” Lee pointed at the computer screen. “Daryl was number one. I’m now convinced that whoever sent him this email, lured him and pushed him to his death.”

  For a second, I struggled to breathe. Shit. I’m number two. This is for real.

  Lee spoke again, but I didn’t listen. The shock wouldn’t let me concentrate.

  I wanted to get up and run out of the café, but the words ’pushed him’ seemed to nail me to the chair.

  “Chelsea,” he said loudly, snapping me back to reality.

  My gaze attached to his, silently requesting another explanation. Somewhere below awareness, I knew I’d expected chilling news. But not to this extent. “Tell me this is a wind up so I can go back to my friend, play the doting bridesmaid, and forget the whole thing.” In my head, I began conjuring up alternative meanings.

  “I’m sorry. I’d love to tell you that email is an advertisement, a software scam or event reminder, something to be ignored.” Lee gripped my arms. His biting tone to my ears was as jolting as ice water to naked skin. ”But, it’s not. Chelsea, I don’t understand why, but whoever killed my brother, is now after you.”

  CHAPTER 5

  Needing comfort, I leaned my cheek against his hand then stared down in disbelief. This can’t be happening. A death threat? Even though it had stopped, the tick, tick, tick of the countdown timer grew louder in my head. My shoes hammered the floor, my whole body quivered with agitation. Half of me believed it, half of me didn’t. I jumped up and ran for the exit. I slapped my palm on the door, pushed it open and hightailed down the street.

  Footsteps pounded the pavement after me. “Wait up, Chelsea.”

  I ran flat out past shops, cars, and gawping pedestrians, tears on my cheeks, hair flapping in the wind. My breathing quickened in time with my raging heartbeat.

  “Stop!” Lee shouted. “Let’s talk about this. Look, there’s a chance we could stop the timer, Chelsea.”

  I slowed to a jog, surprised he’d chased me this far.

  “Maybe it’s some type of sick game. And Daryl... well, maybe he lost.”

  “Stop it how? Sick game for what?” I glanced over my shoulder at him, then slammed arm first into a lamppost. “Ouch! Goddammit!” I dropped to my knees on the concrete pavement and clutched my shoulder which hurt.

  Lee came close enough that I could smell his aftershave. “Are you okay?”

  Gritting my teeth and rubbing my shoulder, I looked up, undecided on whether my head was spinning or the street was a merry-go-round. “What do I do? How do I stop this?”

  Lee slid his hands around my waist from behind. He helped me to my feet and spun me round to face him, as though I were on rollerblades. He dusted dirt off my jeans. “I’ll help you. We’ll wait for the next email. Let’s face it, you’re bound to get sent more. There might be another puzzle.”

  This wasn’t the answer I’d hoped for. I pushed his hands away. “I don’t care about dirty knees. Is that the best solution you’ve got?” The brief trace of optimism left me and instead of feeling lifted, I felt like I was on the floor again. I back-kicked the lamppost, fumbled and dithered, trying to think of a better solution.

  Lee gripped my shoulders, shook me, then held me still. “We need to work out who’s got a grudge against you, before the clock reaches zero. Are you listening?”

  I wasn’t equipped to handle a death threat. Who is? Nevertheless, options crisscrossed in my mind as though it functioned all on its own. I nodded. Lee was right. What else could I do? Wait for the next email and call the police. In the meantime, instead of running off in a panic, I had to investigate who was after me, because clearly somebody was.

  I patte
d Lee’s arm. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to shout at you.”

  “I understand. It’s a big shock.”

  A young couple walked past us and stared.

  “Let’s go to my place and think this through.” I took several deep breaths then made straight for the car park and drove home in my white Corsa. Lee followed in his silver Leon.

  During the quiet, thought-provoking journey, my feelings began changing. They turned a half circle. Strangely, I wanted the next email to come without delay. The messages were a warning, and at this point, my only lead. Without them, I’d have been blind to my future.

  I peeked into the rearview mirror. Lee was driving close behind me. I indicated to turn left and steered into my street.

  After parking, I stepped out onto the pavement and pointed at my front door. “This is my house.”

  I stepped inside, flicked on the hall light, then moved into the dining room that housed my computer. I felt as though I had a red target with the number two in its centre sprayed on my chest. But, once Lee shut the front door I felt safer indoors, as though the walls of my old terraced house could protect me from the horrors I faced, well, at least from being seen. Everything about my home was as expected, barring one thing. The table lamp was aglow yet again. “Damn dodgy switch,” I muttered, clicking it on and off several times.

  Lee lingered in the doorway.

  I crossed to him, grabbed his hand and drew him inside. “Come in. Sit down. Make yourself at home. Sorry about the mess. Not had much of a chance to clean up recently.”

  “Looks fine to me. Kind of homely.”

  Yeah, sure, it used to be, I thought, eyeing piles of old letters balanced atop the fireplace, and a can of lemonade and stray papers littering the floor by my desk. I ignored the mess and glanced at Lee. A stranger standing in my home.

  Unsure of my next move, but pleased to have someone to share my worries, I wondered why he’d even care about my safety. A few days ago he didn’t even realise I existed. How crazy my life had become since the weekend.

  “I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, but why do you want to help a total stranger?” I dropped my handbag on the floor next to my tall vase of twigs wrapped with fairy lights, by the entrance to my kitchen. “You could just leave. I wouldn’t blame you.”