Fire Games

by Mark Stewart

  KENDAL SAT in his car tapping the ignition key. His thoughts were running deep. Something wasn’t kosher at the burning house. Something was wrong, terribly wrong. Patrick escaped too easily. Adding to the mystery, there was Weakom and Philip’s timely disappearance. He drummed the steering wheel to the beat of a song his mobile phone started playing. A third of the way through the song he began singing the words.

  “I should be home tonight.”

  Kendal sang the words to the song several more times. The words, ‘red herring’ entered his mind.

  After a long pause, he dismissed the thought. For the first time, the arsonist had threatened his life. Why? He was positive Patrick must have an accomplice. Kendal’s eyes narrowed. The word decoy flashed into his brain. He sang the words to the song one more time. Pausing after the word ‘home,’ he whispered.

  “The fire must have been a decoy.”

  Kendal slowly nodded as his mind quickly arranged his thoughts. The letter Margaret found, Tegan’s kidnapping, and the third clue were the ring tone on his mobile phone. His eyes widened in horror. Roaring the car’s engine, he started to yell.

  “No, no, no. Patrick, somehow you snuck into my house and downloaded the song as a clue to your where-a-bouts.”

  Kendal’s foot hammered the accelerator. He threw the car’s gear stick into fourth and screamed the engine.

  He swore under his breath when the car rounded the corner, and he saw his house in the distance. He angrily threw the gear stick into neutral. Reaching out he turned the ignition key to the off position, killing the car’s headlights and engine. The only noise came from rubber against tar.

  Before the car came to a stop, he jumped out and ran half bent, his black duffel coat flapping violently behind him. Kendal crouched behind his neighbor’s one-metre high fence to view his house through a hole in a fence paling.

  The area looked and sounded graveyard quiet.

  Kendal extracted his gun from his shoulder holster.

  “Patrick, I swear if you’re in my house I’ll shoot you where you stand. I will refuse to give you a second thought. I know you have a fad over burning two storey homes. Be warned you won’t be burning mine, not tonight or any other night.”

  Kendal’s whispers fell into mumblings. He jumped the fence and quietly ran up his drive. Squatting behind a small bush nine large strides from the front door, he stared through the darkness, listening. The only noise was a baby’s faint cry from the house next to his. He counted to three and silently moved closer. He ascended the three concrete front steps. The lounge room curtains were closed. However, the window remained open. He pushed his shoulders hard against the rough brickwork, eased his left hand past the security door and tightened his fingers around the doorknob. He turned the knob slowly and pushed the door.

  It swung open.

  Kendal stepped onto the welcome mat, his feet slipping slightly. He looked down and studied the mat. It was wet. Patrick had somehow gained entry. Kendal could already see the satanic smirk behind the black balaclava. He applied pressure on his gun’s trigger. He didn’t jump when a tree branch lightly scraped across the study room window.

  Kendal didn’t waste time in searching. Thinking Patrick must be upstairs, Kendal hesitated at the first step to recollect his dream. He shook his head. Surely he wasn’t living his nightmare?

  Pushing his back flat against the wall, he ascended the carpeted stairs. He stopped at the halfway point to listen for any noise Patrick might make. Hearing no sound, he saw only darkness. He knew the pyromaniac must be close.

  Kendal finished climbing the stairs and stood at the threshold to Tegan’s vacant bedroom. He stared into the black gloom wondering how scared she must be. His heart skipped a beat. Satisfied the room was empty he moved along the hall to Tani’s room. It too was empty. He pushed the cupboard door in the narrow hall to be certain it was closed. He then walked on to the next room.

  Standing in the doorway of the main bedroom he could see Marg and Tani lying prone under a bed sheet.

  ‘Strange,’ he thought. ‘Where are the blankets?’

  Kendal studied the room.

  A small splinter of pre-dawn light lit up the bottom hem of the curtains as the grandfather clock in the lounge geared up to strike the sixth hour. Darkness appeared to be turning to grey at the dawn of a new day.

  Returning his attention back to the bed, Tani was as motionless as a statue lying next to his wife. Kendal churned Patrick’s words over in his mind.

  ‘If you won’t play the game you will die.’

  The curtains over the window bulged. Staring at the curtains, Kendal waited for them to move again. After a long pause, he again refocused on the bed. He saw his wife wink.

  “Marg, sorry to wake you,” he whispered. “I thought Patrick might be hiding in the house.”

  Kendal slid the gun back into his shoulder holster, bent down and retrieved the snub nose revolver strapped to his ankle and slipped it into his back pocket.

  “I wasn’t asleep. I know you didn’t catch Patrick,” whispered Marg.

  “How do you know?”

  “He gave me a message just before you arrived home.”

  “What’s the message?”

  “Fire games,” sobbed Marg.

  “Anything else?” asked Kendal.

  “No nothing.”

  “Did you ask about little Tacca?”

  “Yes. Patrick has told me she was safe for the moment.”

  “What a dirty slime ball psychopath. Why involve you? I want you to pack some clothes and take Tani to Aura Lake for a few days.”

  Marg rolled her eyes towards the window. A tear cascaded down her cheek.

  The curtains parted. Patrick stepped forward, laughing.

  “Hey Kendal, you’re extremely slow at this game. You don’t even know when your loving wife is trying to give you a message someone’s in the room.”

  Kendal squared himself to the pyromaniac.

  “I knew where you were.” He slipped his hand inside his coat and coiled his fingers around the police issue, Smith and Wesson.

  “Don’t. This crossbow arrow has a thrust of one hundred and fifty pounds. It’s pointing straight at your heart. You missed your one and only opportunity to kill me.”

  Kendal raised his hands. “I want to take you in alive.”

  “Good excuse for incompetence.”

  “What gives you the right to invade my home?”

  “Don’t fret Coppa; I’ve been here many times watching you and Marg breathing while you slept. It excites me knowing you have no idea who I am. It’s all part of the game. I watch people then I burn their house to the ground.”

  Patrick struck a match. He held it up between his gloved fingers. Everyone in the room watched it burn. When the fire touched his glove, the flame went out. He immediately struck another.

  “Tell me how it feels to be defeated?” growled Patrick.

  “You tell me something. How did you obtain entry into my house?”

  “Your loving wife heard a knock at the front door. You should’ve seen the look of horror on her face when she opened the door and found me standing there. It was priceless.”

  Tani sat up and started sobbing.

  “Kid, shut up,” growled Patrick, switching his stare to the bed.

  Kendal gambled at not being seen and took a wide step closer towards the window.

  “You’re close enough. Hand over your guns, now.”

  “What guns?”

  Patrick appeared to grow agitated at hearing the question. He started rocking back and forth.

  “The Smith and Wesson in your shoulder holster. Move your hand slowly. I’m a terrific shot. From here I can’t miss. Make sure the safety’s on and toss it to Tani. I don’t want the girl to be hurt just yet.”

  Extracting the revolver butt first, Kendal’s steel expression didn’t alter.

  “Tani, give me the gun.” Patrick outstretched his hand.

  “Good girl. Now Coppa, c
ough up the snub nose.”

  “I don’t have another.”

  “I know you carry two guns. I’ve seen it. Hand it over.”

  “It’s getting old. I left it at Police Headquarters.”

  “Liar,” yelled Patrick. “How can you look me in the eye and lie?”

  Kendal shrugged.

  “I have underestimated you and your perfect poker face. It won’t happen again.”

  Tani covered her ears and went from sobbing to screaming. She hid her face by cuddling into her mother.

  “I can prove I don’t have another gun.” Kendal lifted both trouser legs.

  Patrick exhaled heavily. His lips parted into a victorious grin. “Good.”

  “If we’re about to die, remove the hood. Show me your face. What have you got to lose?” Kendal made a snappy grin.

  “You’ve been watching too many crime movies. In them, the hero always survives. I’m not stupid. Plan ‘B’ doesn’t include showing my face.”

  “Let the ladies go. The vendetta is between you and me. Come on let’s fight it out. It’ll be a fun game. I’ve no gun. The odds will be in your favour.”

  “I’m not going to fight. You’re boring. My fun will be hearing you beg for your life.”

  “I’d never give you the satisfaction.” Crossing his arms, Kendal shuffled his feet in a desperate move to gain ground.

  “I want you to go into the next life not knowing my identity. Do you feel frustrated? You should be. It’s all part of my game. I’ll take decades to die. It should drive you insane.”

  “You’re already there.”

  Patrick used the gun to smash the window. After climbing through the window, he growled through clenched teeth.

  “This moment is all part of the game. It has been fun.”

  Balancing on the window ledge, he lit a match. For a few moments, he watched the small dancing flame. Smirking, he threw the match onto the bed and started to drop from view.

  Beads of sweat broke out on Kendal’s face. He snatched the snub nose from behind his back, aimed and fired a split second too late. The bullet missed and embedded itself into his neighbour’s spouting narrowly missing his beloved seven-year-old black cat. He glanced at Marg. She looked Petrified. He knew he was in a bind. Apprehend Patrick or rescue his family. He had a second to decide. This must be Patrick’s plan ‘B’ he thought. It seemed to be the perfect escape. Patrick was clever, insanely clever. Kendal felt like he was in the middle of a chess game. One bad move and the game will end.

  Tani let out a blood-curdling scream as the lit match landed on the sheet at her feet. Marg reached out to shield her from the fire.

  Kendal dived for the bed landing on his back. His black duffel coat muffled the flame. He sniffed the air.

  “It’s ok. There are no petrol fumes. It’s another one of Patrick’s little games.”

  Kendal rolled off the bed and pushed both shoulder blades against the wall nearest the window so he could look through the broken glass. Somewhere outside he heard Patrick’s hideous laugh. Kendal scrutinized the area close to the house. Finding no trace, he widened his sight pattern. He saw a group of young female fitness fanatics jogging through the park one hundred and fifty from his house. He shuddered slightly at the thought of exercise.

  The dawn of a new day was almost as hard to spot an offender as it was in the twilight hours of the day’s end.

  Kendal squinted. It didn’t help. Patrick will be hard to locate. He could be hiding anywhere, behind a bush, a fence, or a tree. Kendal saw and heard nothing. He glanced at Tani’s trampoline and the tracks it left from being pulled under the window. A long toothpick size branch moved on a tree ten and a half feet from the window. He raised his snub nose revolver to eye level and aimed confidently. He didn’t blink. Leaves on the branch moved. From this distance, he couldn’t miss.

  “Patrick, freeze,” he yelled.

  The bed squeaked. Kendal didn’t flinch. He knew Tani and Margaret were off the bed and hiding on the floor. Endless practice drills over the years had finally paid off.

  Another branch moved. Kendal’s finger constricted on the trigger, but his arm and hand remained solid. He didn’t want the bullet to miss its target. A girl from the jogging group, an early morning walker, or perhaps a paperboy or girl could die; or the neighbor’s cat.

  Kendal saw a blue flash. He heard a bang. Brick mortar showered his face. He sidestepped back from the window to take cover. Patrick had given away his hiding place. Kendal heard light footsteps running and hurriedly took aim. For a couple of heartbeats, he wondered why Patrick missed. Surely he was confident enough to kill his posse. It was another piece to the jigsaw puzzle that was yet to be slotted into its correct position.

  Kendal pulled the trigger. The bullet embedded itself in the wheelie bin Tegan had put out the day before.

  “Shit,” he cussed.

  The neighbour’s main bedroom light flicked on. Kendal grinned at knowing he’d woken them. Payback for all those night long parties.

  Kendal dived out of the window, landing on the trampoline in a sitting position. He was thankful Tegan and Tani tried to teach him the seat drop. He bounced off into a small azalea bush, rolled and got to his feet.

  ‘I’d never be a good alley cat,’ he thought. He made a mental note to have more trampoline lessons.

  Ignoring the pain in his ankle, Kendal ran towards the park.

  “This is the part I hate,” he mumbled. “I’m a thinker, not a runner. Where’s Claire when I need back up. She loves a run. It’s nothing for her to complete a three-K jog for breakfast and the same for dinner.” His eyes widened. “I hope those female joggers haven’t stopped to have a chat.”

  A car’s engine started up. He heard it backfire. Kendal tried to sprint, but his sprained ankle slowed him down. On the other side of the park, he saw a white van. A cloud of white mist was billowing from its exhaust. For the second time, the van backfired. Kendal focused on a hooded figure sitting behind the steering wheel.

  “I’m laughing at you Coppa,” yelled the figure, lifting a crossbow to eye level.

  Kendal stopped dead in his tracks and looked for cover. The closest tree was too far.

  The group of female joggers was laughing and talking, as they approach to begin another lap of the park. They rounded the corner totally unaware of what they were running towards. Kendal winced at the pain in his ankle as he ran desperately for a tree. Patrick’s finger tightened on the crossbow’s trigger. A woman jogger from the group screamed a warning when she saw the hooded figure holding the crossbow. Instead of diving for cover, the group strayed from the path and scattered. One of the young girls sprinted for a tree closer to Patrick.

  “Get down before the arrow puts a hole in your back,” yelled Kendal.

  He pointed his revolver at the sky and pulled the trigger. The young woman covered her ears and dived for the ground. Her interference gave him the extra seconds he needed. He dived for the tree, re-aimed his gun at the van and hurriedly squeezed off another two rounds. Both bullets buried themselves into a big oak tree.

  Kendal heard a thud. Patrick’s arrow missed his shoulder by the width of a dog’s hair. Kendal glanced at the woman jogger trembling in a fetal position at his feet before looking up at the van.

  A car turned the corner. Its headlights lit the van’s rear. He saw a child’s face. Her long black hair swayed from side to side. Before Kendal could react, she fell from view. A child’s hand re-appeared and threw something out of the window before it too vanished. The van’s engine revved, and the vehicle was on the move.

  A car pulled into the curb not far from where Kendal stood. A woman’s voice broke through the sound of Kendal’s heavy breathing.

  “Sugar, need a hand?”

  “Claire, follow the van.”

  Kendal sprinted for the car. He skidded over the bonnet towards the passenger door. Hearing the car’s engine revving, he pulled open the front passenger door and waved his handgun in the direction o
f the van.

  Claire’s foot pushed the accelerator to the floor. They rounded the corner and headed for the T intersection at the end of the street. “Left or right?” she questioned.

  Kendal displayed a blank expression. “Kill the engine.”

  The engine fell silent. Kendal and Claire stepped down from the car. They stood listening to the early morning traffic starting to build.

  Kendal eventually slumped onto the passenger seat. “At least I know where Tegan is.”

  “Patrick?”

  He looked up at Claire. “Yes. How did you know where I was?”

  She shot him a sterile look. “I called Margaret. She said you were chasing Patrick through the park. You know I can’t resist a chase.”

  The detectives started to cruise the neighborhood searching for the van, stopping at each corner hoping to hear the van’s engine backfire, all to no avail. The van and its backfiring exhaust had vanished into the early morning traffic.

  Returning to the park, Kendal brought Claire up to speed on the chase and the woman who had unknowingly saved his life.

  “The arrow’s over there,” Kendal reported, pointing at a tree.

  Looking around he couldn’t see the female joggers. Seeing a CD cover in the gutter, he walked over and picked it up. Except for a few scratches, the cover looked new. He read the group’s name. ‘Split Theory.’ The band comprised of only four names, three men, and a woman. Edward Tailor, Phil Mason, Trent Nielsen and Helen Mitura. His mind slipped into overdrive. ‘Tegan must have discovered the CD, and she was the one I saw throwing it out of the van’s window. When Patrick finds out his CD is missing he’s going to be pissed.’

  Kendal slipped the CD cover into his coat pocket and watched Claire stepping out the distance between the road and the arrow. When she finally reached the tree, she trotted over, shaking her head. She clapped her hand on his shoulder.

  “You’re either one lucky cop or Patrick isn’t a good shot. Forty feet is a long way for an arrow to travel.”

  “I’m swayed into thinking he meant to miss. I’ll visit the local archery club later today. I’m positive anyone who can shoot an arrow so far needs to practice.” He dislodged the arrow from the tree.

  “Careful Sugar, don’t forget fingerprints.”

  “There won’t be any. Patrick wore gloves.” Kendal held the arrow up to the brightening sky. “This arrow is made of surgical steel.”

  “How do you know?” asked Claire, staring at the arrow.

  “It’s marked surgical steel.”

  “A worker at a hospital?” she quizzed.

  “Possible. I need to talk to Dr. Ashlee Clarke. I have a hunch she knows more than she’s admitting. I also need a close look at the kid’s trampoline, and I want to know about Weakom. Daniel Weakom.”

  Claire flicked Kendal a cold stare. “I’m feeling fine. Thanks for asking.”

  “Sorry. I’m glad you’re okay.”

  “I think we should be partners. We’d make a great team.”

  “You know I prefer to work alone. Let’s go. Marg will be wondering what’s happening.”

  Claire opened her mouth to say something. She shrugged instead. On the way back to her car she smiled up at the heavy-set man walking next to her. When she spied an elderly lady walking her even older dog with a pink ribbon around its neck, she grinned mischievously and cuddled firmly into Kendal’s chest, almost tripping them both.

  “I’m glad you love me again, Sugar,” she teased, battering her eyelids.

  The elderly lady looked up. She frowned at the young woman cuddling the man in a public place. The lady’s dog waddled over and sniffed their feet. Kendal kicked out at the dog.

  “Sugar, I can’t wait to get you home,” hinted Claire, over the dog’s annoying yelps. “Forget the other woman. I have so much more to offer.”

  The elderly lady pushed her nose into the air, turned and walked briskly back the way she came. “Queeny, come,” she croaked.

  The dog yelped several more times before running in the direction of its owner.

  Claire put a hand to her cheek and threw her voice into a perfect theatrical scene.

  “My love, my love, at last, you’re mine, all mine.”

  “You’re such a tease. Gossip will be all over the neighborhood by mid-morning about us having an affair.”

  Claire gripped onto Kendal’s shoulder. Her giggles were contagious.

  “Lucky for you Marg has a great sense of humour. Feast your eyes on this.”

  Kendal extracted the CD from his pocket and handed it over.

  Claire’s grin faded. “It’s time to start work.”

  “Have you ever heard of a band named; ‘Split Theory?’”

  “Sounds like a school exam.” She turned the CD cover over in her hands. “What an ugly picture. Four misshapen pink guitars, a backdrop of deep green and black swirls in a field of flowers.”

  “I agree. I’ll run the band’s name past Tani when we get home. Maybe she’s heard of the group.”

  Claire turned the ignition key and eased the car away from the curb.

  At Kendal’s house, she parked her car halfway up the drive. Both stepped out and strolled towards the trampoline.

  Claire lifted one end. “Patrick must be strong; this trampoline weighs a ton.”

  “Take a look around. There must be footprints somewhere in the garden?”

  “Hey Sugar, darling, you’re not a good gardener!” exclaimed Claire. She stood staring at a weed infested garden bed. She kicked a clump of clay. “Not much will grow in this hardened ground.”

  Kendal answered sarcastically, his voice sounding hoarse from the lack of sleep.

  “Marg’s the keen gardener in the household. This stretch of, ‘hard Garden,’ is the last patch to be attended to.”

  Claire looked around and saw that the backyard was free of weeds, the lawn looked short, a small hedge growing around the pool’s fence looked beautiful.

  Kendal grinned at Claire’s reddening face, walked over and slapped her on the shoulder.

  “If you’ll ignore the garden’s magnificence for a moment, I’ve discovered footprints.” He pointed to a slight indentation near a small plant. Seeing another more profound imprint a step away he directed Claire’s attention towards it.

  Both detectives squatted to study the ground at length. They were of an average size runner. The depth of the print indicated a person light on their feet.

  “More stealth than a cat,” mumbled Kendal. He looked up. “Weakom has a slight build. The last time I saw him, he was wet.”

  Claire returned a slanderous look. “What are you implying?”

  “Nothing I can prove. In fact, I’m only thinking aloud.”

  “For your information, Daniel has done nothing wrong.”

  “I believe you.”

  “Good. I’ll forgive you this once. Don’t let it happen again.”

  “You two come inside for breakfast,” called Marg. She stood at the back door holding three mugs of coffee. She hugged and kissed her husband then hugged Claire, her life-long friend. Her gaze darted about the backyard. “Al, where’s Tegan?”

  Guiding his arm around her waist, his face looked strained.

  “I believe the person in the rear of the white van we were chasing was Tegan.”

  Marg closed her eyes. She dropped her mug of coffee and was starting to sway from side to side.

  “Sit at the table, and I’ll clean up the mess,” advised Claire. She walked to the kitchen sink to retrieve a handful of paper towel.

  Marg sat staring at her husband with a far-away look. The colour in her face had drained. Raising her left hand, she began to massage her temple.

  Kendal patted his wife’s hand to reassure her. He downed his left knee and stroked her hair.

  “Patrick was driving the white van and is using Tegan as a pawn to get to me. It’s the reason why I believe she’ll remain safe.”

  “When will we get her back?”

 
“I’ll make breakfast,” interrupted Claire. She walked to the cupboard and started to rummage through the boxes of cereal.

  “I’ll find her,” reported Kendal.

  Marg slowly stood. In a trance-like state, she walked towards the hall. Tani came into the room, hugged her father and jumped into Claire’s open arms.

  “Good to see you short stuff.”

  “It’s good to see you too. You need to visit more often. Tegan and I want to give you a competition doing seat drops on our trampoline. I bet I can do double what you can do.”

  “You probably can,” chuckled Claire.

  Kendal extracted the CD cover he found in the gutter from his pocket and held it out to his daughter.

  “Sweetie, have you or any of your school friends ever heard of a band named Split Theory? They have a CD out, and it looks like this.”

  “Can I have it? Please say yes. Tegan and I have a fight when I borrow her copy.”

  “Your sister has a copy in her room?”

  “Yes and no. Yes, Tegan has a copy. It’s in my room. I borrowed it again. Please don’t tell her.”

  “I won’t say a word if you bring it here.”

  Tani ran to her room. She returned boasting a wide grin. She held out an exact duplicate of the CD Kendal held.

  “What’s so good about this band?”

  “Dad, get modern. Everyone at school is talking about ‘Split Theory’ and their new CD. Tegan got a copy when she kissed the boy in the shop.”

  Claire quickly clamped a hand over Tani’s mouth. “I don’t think your dad needs to hear the details.”

  “It’s okay. I promise you can have the CD when I’ve finished this game,” whispered Kendal.

  Pocketing the CD, he walked into the hall. He found his wife staring at four framed photos hanging on the wall. He walked up behind her.

  “You okay?”

  Marg was trembling. She spoke in sobbing whispers.

  “I was petrified this morning. Tell me why has our baby being kidnapped?”

  “Tegan’s not a baby. She’s twelve-years-old and will be fine.”

  Marg glared at her husband through red-rimmed eyes. “How can you say she’ll be fine?”

  “Knowing Patrick, I’m positive little Tacca will be okay. She’s the bait.”

  “Bait?” echoed Marg.

  “Patrick wants a showdown like in a western movie. It’s part of the game in his sick mind.”

  Marg stared into her husband’s hazel eyes, her tears welling.

  Kendal wrapped his arms around his wife. He hugged her tight and kissed her gently on the top of her head.

  “I’ll find Tegan and bring her home. I promise.”

  “Thank you,” she whispered leaning her head on his shoulder.

  Claire stood in the doorway to the kitchen. “I hate to break up the love scene kiddies. Coffee and toast are on the table.”

  “Al, go have breakfast, I’ll be there in a minute.”

  Kendal paused at the dining room door. He didn’t have to look to know Marg had reached up and taken a photo of Tegan off the wall and was cradling it in her arms. He heard her quiet sobs. He knew her eyes would soon drip tears. He knew being a cop’s wife wasn’t easy. His endless hours away from the family and being a possible target for a psychotic maniac like Patrick could easily take its toll. All too frequent he’d come home and catch her crying. He’d hug and kiss her, waiting for her to stop. Everything will go back to normal until the next time. This, was the next time. He knew his hugs and kisses and reassuring words couldn’t stop the tears. They’d only stop when Tegan was home safe.

  Kendal swallowed his emotions and walked to the dining room table.

  “Sugar, I’m certain Tegan is already planning her escape. She takes after you. I believe she’ll walk into Police Headquarters by tonight.”

  “Claire thanks for the compliment. It’s not me you have to convince.”

  CHAPTER FIVE