A Chance Mistake

by Jackie Zack

  “What do they want?”

  “I’m sorry, Dafina. I don’t know. Is there anything down here—sharp that we can use to get the duct tape off? Anything for a weapon?”

  “Not that I know of, but maybe if I—” She scooted the short distance across the gravel and sat next to him. Good that she wore sturdy jeans instead of lightweight skirt. “Maybe I can tear your duct tape enough that you can force your ‘ands apart?”

  “It’s worth a try. Your fingernails are a bit longer.” A pathetic tease. He leaned forward and turned at an angle away from her, so she could get at his wrists.

  Her fingers touched his. “So you know. I’m fond of you, Kory Slate. You’re the best ‘usband I ever had.” The smile came through in her voice.

  His heart warmed and he shifted, so he could lean over to press his duct taped lips against hers, but not too hard to make the tape stick down again. A feather light gesture. In spite of everything, she laughed, bringing him hope.

  She went back to work on the binding around his wrists. The only way he could imagine was that she used her thumbnail and index fingernail to worry against it, making it weak and easier to tear.

  A bleating sound and hooves clamoring against the tile floor sounded above them.

  Dafina whispered, “What on earth? Is it Biggins they ‘ave upstairs?”

  “Sure sounds like it.”

  The bleating became almost frantic, then a slamming, chopping noise. Kory swallowed hard, his imagination filling in the rest. How could he help it? He wrote horror. The sickening noise continued, then silence. His ears strained to hear anything.

  “What do you think ‘appened?” The words soft in his ear.

  “Nothing good.”

  Footfalls came from the top of the stairs. Shorty stood on the landing and flung something at them and laughed an eerie sound. Not one filled with happiness, but with wickedness. He flashed a light on the debris, so they were sure to see it. Ragged hunks of bloody meat. The man retreated back up the stairs.

  Dafina turned her head away. “Never did like Biggins, but…you know I’d never turn him into a roast.”

  “They are insane,” Kory muttered. Had to be their idea of having fun. His stomach hurt, but his blood pumped, ready to do battle.

  Shorty and Laces returned, heading down the steps. Not good. Adrenalin made his head throb and pound. Kory had to hold it together.

  “If we get separated, don’t worry. I’ll find you,” he said softly in her ear.

  She nodded and took in a breath.

  Shorty held a gun and motioned to Laces. The taller man pulled something out of his pocket, snickering like an idiot and shoved it near Kory’s face. What the heck? Laces had the two pages that Kory had torn from The Unseen. The man pointed at each page then pointed to Dafina. Oh, God, Kory prayed. No. Please, no! They would use his story against him to hurt Dafina.

  Shorty and Laces were trying to get a rise out of him, and Kory was afraid they were getting it. His eyes had bugged in fear, then set in a determined glare. He purposely let his features and eyes go blank, becoming stupid like he had no idea what they were doing.

  The men lifted Dafina to her feet and Laces picked her up while Shorty pointed the gun in Kory’s direction.

  Kory caught Dafina’s expression in her eyes, worried that he would see fear, but instead he saw her tightening resolve and pure gut determination. Her eyes had turned to cold steel.

  Griff was at odds what to do. He followed them up the stairs. Yet the dog made no move to attack the two men.

  Kory never interceded in prayer as deeply as he prayed for Dafina’s safety and well being. He wrenched his hands in an attempt to free himself, but the tape held fast. Throwing his body toward a support beam, he ran the duct tape binding his wrists against the wooden corner. He worked feverishly, using the wooden edge like a saw, then yanked his hands apart. Still wouldn’t budge.

  Minutes passed. How much time ticked by, he wasn’t sure. The friction had to do something—had to weaken some fibers of the tape. He tried again to free himself. Nothing. He tried another angle and felt it ripping. His hands were free. He quickly took the strip from his face and upper lip. Yeow! And freed his ankles.

  Moonlight streamed down the steps through the backdoor window. He crept up the stairs, alert for any sound or movement. He heard absolutely nothing. How could Shorty and Laces be so quiet? He reached the landing and headed up the stairs to the kitchen door.

  Slowly turning the doorknob, he prepared to be shot at. He opened the door a crack. The kitchen light was on. The visible part of the floor looked clean, no hoof marks or blood splatters. Poor Biggins, where was he? He opened the door a bit more. No one in sight. And the kitchen was clean. No goat carcass or any evidence of what took place. What exactly had happened?

  Pops sat at the table reading a paper. But he did have a different soft looking head instead of the gourd head. He searched the other rooms, the front room, living room, Auntie’s bedroom, and hall. He crept to Dafina’s room and found her on the bed with Griff beside her. He rushed forward and gently took off the tape that covered her mouth.

  “They’re gone.” She heaved a heavy sigh. “Scissors in the top drawer.” She motioned with her head.

  “Are you sure they’re gone?” he asked. “But…” The whole thing was too weird. He found the scissors and released her from the bonds.

  “I heard one of them say under his breath, ‘That’s it. We’re done.’ What could that possibly mean? Were they having us on? Biggins isn’t anywhere alive or dead.”

  “One of them actually spoke?”

  “Yes…and he sounded American.”

  “They never said one word around me. I’m guessing they didn’t want me to know where they were from. The whole thing must have been a planned farce.” What they’d experienced paralleled his first unpublished book. Once he had the thought, he couldn’t get it out of his mind. Who stood to gain for having him tailed, for sending the experience of fear into his being? “It had to be my editor.”

  “Why? It makes no sense.” Dafina walked beside him as he made his way through the house.

  “Ed could keep track of me and put me through my own horror book. The first one that was never published. You know…inspire my creative juices.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t understand you Americans.”

  “It’s not all of us.” He smiled although feeling sad. He picked up his backpack by the front door and carefully emptied everything out. Thankfully his phone with the pictures for Luke was still there. An oval metal piece the size of a coin landed on top. He looked at it with disbelief. “Well, that’s how they found me.”

  Dafina looked at the object, held up an index finger for him to wait, and left the room. She returned with a hammer. He promptly brought it down on the piece, smashing it.

  “I’m not sure if it was a tracking device or a bug—or maybe both. They could’ve slipped it in my backpack when I exited the plane.”

  “We’d better call the coppers—but you think it was all a sort of helpful hoax? Where is Biggins? How did they—”

  “Don’t know. Let’s check out the kitchen. That’s where all the sounds came from.”

  Searching the kitchen gave no clue, not even a goat hair.

  “I can’t believe they left the dinner and the treacle sponge pudding untouched,” Dafina said.

  “It looks amazing.” The roast and vegetables made his mouth water. “You’re quite the fine cook.” He observed the dessert. “Treacle sponge? Did it come from the ocean?” Visions of divers going after sponges and sea urchins came to mind. Not something he wanted to eat. Looking at the dessert though, it proved to be more of a cake than a pudding. Why was he not surprised?

  “The ocean?” Her eyes widened and she laughed. “Goodness, no. It’s a pudding made with flour, eggs, and butter—no sea animals.” She laughed again. “Wanted to serve you a fine Welsh dinner at least one more time. You don’t think they tampered with it?”
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br />   “I’ll try it out first and if nothing happens—well, then it’s safe.” He half smiled.

  “Not sure I like the sound of that.”

  “It’s almost like they weren’t even here. Nothing is out of place. But we know they were—here.” He pointed to the place where he stood. One place they hadn’t searched was the trash. He stepped over to the metal bin and pulled out a white butcher paper that was on top. Part of it had what looked like watery blood then he saw a price sticker. He looked to Dafina.

  “That’s not mine.” She stood beside him to examine it. “It’s from the meat market. The sticker says stew meat.” She sighed in a relieved manner.

  “That’s what was thrown at us in the basement. Unbelievable—but good news.” He looked to see if anything else could be a clue, but only found potato and carrot peelings.

  “I’m going to check around outside. To make sure they’re really gone.”

  “Kory, are you sure that’s a good idea?”

  He ducked through the kitchen and headed out the backdoor without an answer. He hoped she understood. Even though it hadn’t shown in his voice or actions, his insides pumped with anger. He wanted to get a hold of the two and clunk their heads together and break their plastic gun. Had to be plastic.

  The backyard was still, quiet. The cottage stood like an innocent sentinel. He wanted to make sure it was locked up and no one was hanging around. He turned the doorknob and tried pushing the door. Locked tight. He stealthily made his way around to the back. A lone figure stood motionless in the moonlight. Broad shoulders, shoulder length hair. “Hoover?”

  “Uh…yeah. Just getting Biggins. He got away again.”

  The goat chewed on long grass next to some lumpy forms. He’d never been so relieved to see a goat.

  Hoover continued. “I think there’s something strange going on. Do you know those blokes?” He pointed to the dark shapes on the ground, and Kory jumped, realizing that they were men.

  He crept closer. It was Shorty and Laces without their ski masks. They looked like they were knocked out cold. “Did you do that?”

  “No. I just got here.”

  Kory leaned over them. Shorty had a nasty bump on his head, and Lace’s jaw had a nasty gash with bruising, but otherwise their color was good and they were breathing. “They’ve been knocked out.” Nearby a rock with a dark red substance shone in the moonlight. “You’re sure you didn’t do it? I mean, they were trespassing.”

  “No,” he repeated, shaking his head. “I’ll go and call the police straight away and send for an ambulance. Strange, that is. Come on, Biggins.” The goat remained chewing. Hoover reluctantly stepped to the goat, fastened a leash on his collar and pulled him away.

  “Thanks,” Kory called after his retreating figure.

  “Yeah. The police won’t think we did it, will they?”

  “I don’t know why they would.” Why did Hoover act so guilty? Was he guilty?

  Kory headed back to the house, a strange feeling coursing through him. If Hoover hadn’t done it, who did? He picked up a quick jog and reached to open the back door. It breezed open without him turning the knob. Dread snaked down his spine. Now what? He knew he’d closed the door tight.

  Back in stealth mode, he slipped inside, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end. Something wasn’t right. On his way through the kitchen, he picked up a heavy skillet. Not the first weapon he would choose, but he needed something—anything. He turned toward the hall and heard Griff send out a grisly warning growl, deep and vicious.

  Griff stood in front of Dafina, with his teeth bared. A man headed toward her, his back to Kory. Hoover? How was it possible? He flicked his wrist, and a blade glinted in the faint light. But the man’s shoulders weren’t wide enough to be Hoover. And although the intruder’s hair was long and wavy, it was tangled and dirty. Griff sprang an attack, his jaws sinking into the man’s leg.

  The intruder’s attention turned to Griff, but Kory was already in action, hitting the man on the back of his head with the heavy skillet. A sickening clunk rang out. Hopefully Kory’s force was enough to knock him out, but not enough to kill him. The man sank to the floor and remained unmoving. Kory rushed to Dafina and held her.

  “That man. I think I saw him outside the bookstore,” Dafina said in a trembling voice. “I’m so thankful you were here.”

  “You’re safe now.” He hugged her tightly. All he could do was thank God that Dafina was safe. Kory’s imagination threatened to take him to what would have taken place if he happened to be two or three seconds late. He totally wasn’t going there.

  As he hugged her, Griff let out another growl. Although the intruder was unconscious, Griff still held the man’s pants leg in his mouth and tugged it back and forth.

  “Hey, buddy. It’s okay. You can let him go,” Kory said.

  Griff let go, but kept a steady vigil on the man.

  Chapter 19

  The police and ambulance came, but there wasn’t any sign of Shorty or Laces. Dafina still trembled inside at knowing she almost became the slasher’s next victim. She could see the coppers’ expressions of surprise that the fugitive had doubled back to Wales, and they were exceedingly relieved to have the slasher in their custody. The killer had started to regain consciousness before the ambulance took him away.

  After everyone had left and she and Kory had eaten dinner, he sat with her on the sofa.

  “Dafina?”

  She lifted an eyebrow.

  “Could I crash on your couch tonight?” His forehead wrinkled and his grin somewhat embarrassed.

  “Of course, don’t be silly.”

  “With all that’s happened, I don’t want to be far away—you know?”

  “I know.” Her heart fluttered, and she held his hand.

  “Come to New York with me. To give Luke the travel pictures—and well, to meet my family.”

  “I don’t know, Kory Slate.” She smiled at his sudden deflated features. “What intentions ‘ave you?”

  “My intentions? My intentions are all good. We can stay with my parents.” His expression relaxed.

  She smiled and decided to tease him further. “I know. Flip that coin of yours. Heads I go with you. Tails I stay.” She rested an index finger on her smiling lips. Surely, he wouldn’t take such a chance if he wanted her to go.”

  “You really want me to flip a coin over it?”

  She knew him well enough by now that he struggled to keep his voice monotone with no emotion. He was a tad vexed, and she kept bubbles of laughter hidden inside. No way for him to know. She waited for him to say he would in no way let it be a chance decision.

  “Okay, then.” His voice strained.

  He slipped his hand in a side pocket, found a coin, and turned it over a couple of times in his hand. Then flipped it in the air. He caught it with one hand and slapped it on his wrist. He took his hand away revealing the same American coin that he’d used before. “Heads.”

  She took in a breath, surprised at how fast it had happened. “Well now, that’s a relief.”

  “Is it?”

  “Of course, it is.” She smiled brightly or what she thought to be brightly. Oh no. She hoped it hadn’t taken on a false look. How could she put into word that she only meant to tease? Why hadn’t he stood up against her idea of the ridiculous coin flip? Ah well, what did it matter? She was going with him. “I’ll call Gweneth in the morning and see about scheduling time off. A week?”

  He nodded. “A week is good—seven days not five. Nine would be better. You know, a work week of five days, plus two weekends.”

  Chapter 20

  A week later Dafina stood inside Kory’s sister’s old room and looked out the window onto a side street of New York City. The street below, ten stories down. What a different life they lived. She’d never in her life thought she’d be in a city of eight million and experience culture shock.

  The last several days had been a whirlwind of plans, getting her passport, explaining everyth
ing to Mum, then Kory meeting her mum, finding someone to take care of Griff, and packing. She’d almost backed out of the trip when it came time to board the jet. Even though she’d warned Kory that it was her first flight, she plastered on her pleasant, bored expression that was useful in so many difficult situations.

  Dafina was awed by Kory in how he took everything in stride. The airport and New York City were mammoth with a myriad of travelers hurrying this way and that. She grabbed the crook of his arm and held on for dear life. He took her through the subway, on a bus, then a taxi to finally arrive at his parent’s apartment.

  His father, an older representation of Kory, had answered the door, surprise written all over his face. His mother was a pleasant looking woman with a dark brown hair. She crowded near and gave a whoop of joy.

  “Finally. Don’t do that to us again. You know you’ve been gone over a month?” his mother chided. Dafina decided right then and there that she liked her.

  “Mom. I told you I could be gone that long or even longer. Here I am though.” He laughed. “I want you to meet Dafina Perry. She’s from Wales.”

  “You were in Wales?” His dad slapped him on the shoulder. “I agree with your mother this time. But it’s a pleasure to meet you, Dafina.”

  “It surely is,” his mom chimed in. She whispered out of the side of her mouth into Kory’s father’s ear. “Such a lovely girl.”

  ****

  Six days into her American holiday, Dafina could honestly say that she enjoyed staying in Kory’s sister’s old room. The off-white walls with dusky pink decorations and fluffy, rose colored bed cover made her feel relaxed. But her bedroom and every room in the home followed a color scheme. The middle room—what they called a living room—was subdued in grays, the kitchen in white and polished steel waited for a spill or drip to happen, and the bathroom mellow in sea-foam green. Chic and all that, but stifling to her. Where was the life, the living—the spots of bright unexpected color?

  Kory was quite the host, giving her a tour each day. They’d seen the 911 Memorial, the Statue of Liberty, Times Square, and Central Park. All loomed brighter and larger than life and made her senses spin. But the culture shock that she’d experienced had morphed into homesickness.