The Deadliest Game

by H E Joyce

  It was with some relief that she heard, then saw, Michael’s car pulling up outside. Although she had never felt this way in all the time she and Jody had lived there alone, the new sense of vulnerability she was experiencing immediately left her.

  ‘Hi, I’m home,’ he called, as he entered the hallway.

  ‘Hi, honey,’ Laura replied cheerfully.

  She heard the clink of his keys on the dresser, the rustle of his coat, and then a few moments later he joined her in the kitchen.

  ‘Wow, what a day,’ he said. As Laura washed her hands at the sink, he stood behind her, wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her neck.

  ‘Busy?’ she said.

  ‘I mean the weather. It’s awful out there.’ He released his grip on her and poured a glass of wine.

  ‘Yeah, it’s been a wild one alright.’

  ‘Boy, I need this,’ he said, taking a sip. ‘So, how about you, have you had a good day?’

  ‘Not bad. You?’

  ‘Pretty average, honey, pretty average.’

  She paused for a moment. ‘Enjoy your lunch?’

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘Your lunch, the sandwiches I brought into your office. Were they okay?’

  He hesitated. ‘Oh, yes, the sandwiches, I’m sorry, I almost forgot. Yes, they were great – thank you. Yes, I must have just missed you, I had to go and see a client. Old man Baxter, changing his will again.’

  Laura turned to him. ‘Well I’m glad you liked them anyway.’

  He swallowed a large mouthful of wine. ‘Of course I did – how could I not.’

  Laura feigned a smile. She had the irresistible urge to ask him what was in them, what was so great about them, but she couldn’t. It would be as bad as standing there and calling him a liar. ‘I’ll go and get Jody – dinner’s nearly ready,’ she said, knowing, but not knowing why, that was exactly what he was.

  Four

  The next morning, Laura was glad to have the house to herself once Michael and Jody had left. An almost sleepless night had left her feeling exhausted, both physically and mentally. Throughout the entire evening, after Jody had gone to bed, she had hardly been able to bring herself to speak to Michael, making the excuse that she needed to work on some notes and shutting herself away in her study until after he had gone up to bed.

  The wind and rain had not relented through the night; it was something she had always enjoyed listening to from the cosiness of her bed, yet on this occasion it had only served to make the night appear longer, each minute seeming like an hour. It was a relief when the morning finally came. But despite the long and troubled night, and the misgivings she was beginning to have about her husband, she put on a brave face over breakfast and tried to appear more cheerful. Only when Michael and Jody had left did she slump, utterly drained, on one of the sofas, and feeling her eyelids becoming like lead, she’d fallen instantly asleep.

  The respite was short. She awoke with a start to the ringing of the phone, with what seemed like an exaggerated intensity, and dragged herself from the sofa to answer. She could feel the beginning of a headache as she picked up the receiver.

  ‘Hello.’

  ‘Laura, hello, it’s Victoria Hanson – you saw me a couple of days ago.’

  ‘Yes, of course. Hi. What can I do for you? Are you okay?’

  ‘Well… well, I wondered if you could see me. I realise my next appointment isn’t until next week, but…’

  Laura massaged her forehead. ‘Are you feeling worse?’

  There was a long pause. ‘Yes.’

  ‘More attacks?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I’m sorry to hear that. When did you have in mind?’

  There was another pause. ‘As soon as possible.’

  Something wasn’t quite right. She didn’t sound like a woman in the throes of an anxiety attack; in fact she sounded rather calm. ‘Alright, how about tomorrow, would that be okay?’

  ‘I was hoping you might be able to see me today.’

  ‘Uh, well, I would, but today isn’t good I’m afraid,’ Laura said, unconvincingly, she thought.

  ‘Well then I guess tomorrow will have to do, won’t it,’ she said in a disgruntled tone. ‘What time?’

  ‘How about ten-thirty? Would that be okay for you?’ Laura asked, taken aback at Victoria’s manner.

  ‘Okay that’s fine,’ she said. ‘I’ll see you then.’

  ‘By the way,’ Laura said, almost as an afterthought, ‘you didn’t happen to call yesterday by any chance, did you?’

  There was a strange calmness in her voice. ‘No, Laura,’ she said. ‘I didn’t call.’

  Laura replaced the receiver. She found the woman’s demeanour odd, as she had on their first meeting just two days before. Why was there such urgency for another appointment so soon? Again, her voice did not have the tone that Laura had come to recognise from one who suffered from attacks of anxiety. On the contrary, her voice had sounded calm, in fact, at times it seemed extremely tranquil, almost disturbingly so.

  *

  Michael arrived at his office a little after nine. Margaret was already at her desk, and as he entered, she produced the lunchbox from one of her drawers. She slammed it on her desk, clearly displeased.

  ‘Ah,’ he said.

  ‘Laura brought this in for you yesterday. Where were you all day, Michael?’

  ‘You know where I was, old man Baxter’s.’

  ‘All day?’

  ‘Margaret, you’re my secretary – not my mother,’ he snapped at her.

  ‘I see, well of course if that’s the way you want it. I’ve always thought that besides being your secretary, I was also your friend, but as your secretary I think I have a right to know where you are. Disappearing for the whole day the way you did places me in an extremely awkward position. I couldn’t even reach you on your cell phone.’

  He paused for a moment. ‘Yes, you’re right, I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.’ He took the lunchbox containing the uneaten sandwiches and proceeded to open his office door behind, and to the right of her desk.

  Margaret swivelled in her chair to face him, hesitating at first, but eventually saying: ‘As you rightly pointed out, I’m your secretary, but after all the time we’ve known each other, well...’

  ‘Yes, I know, and again, I’m sorry, okay?’

  ‘You can tell me to mind my own business, Michael, but… well, is everything alright? There’s nothing wrong, is there?’

  He hovered in the doorway. ‘No, everything’s fine – just fine.’

  She smiled sceptically. ‘Alright. But if, or when you ever decide that you need to talk…’

  ‘Thank you, Margaret, I’ll bear that in mind,’ he said, closing his office door behind him.

  Apart from a couple of clients who had appointments, there was little contact between them throughout the day, until he emerged from his office at four-thirty.

  ‘Margaret, look, it’s quiet, you can finish early,’ he said. ‘I’m going home myself soon, so I’ll lock up.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ she asked quizzically. ‘I still have plenty of paperwork to do.’

  ‘Yes, I’m positive. Go home, the paperwork can wait until tomorrow.’

  ‘Well, alright, if that’s what you want. You’re the boss.’

  ‘Absolutely.’

  ‘Well, I’ll say goodnight then.’ She saved her work, powered down her computer, and took her coat from the coat stand.

  With a certain tiredness in his voice, Michael said: ‘Goodnight, Margaret, see you tomorrow,’ and then returned to his office.

  *

  Apart from the call that Victoria Hanson had made to Laura in the morning, there had been no other disturbances, there had been no more mystery callers, and still feeling tired from her sleepless night, she had returned to the sofa for a nap. She slept for just over an hour and it had worked wonders, because although brief, it had been a good quality sleep. Feeling re-energized, she took-up the chore of clearing out the junk i
n the basement that she had cut short a couple of days before.

  She emptied the remaining glass fragments of the framed photograph of her, and her sister, Sally, into a bag, the dried blood still visible on some of them. Some of the blood had smeared onto the picture itself, but even so, she kept it. She ended up with several boxes full of assorted items that she envisaged would never be used again: old lampshades, toys that Jody had long outgrown, and many other household items that were either broken or simply unused. She transferred the items as she sorted them into boxes and stacked them at the top of the basement steps.

  The weather was much calmer than the previous day and night. In contrast, though the sky was dark and moody, there was only a slight breeze and an almost mist like rain. She took the boxes she had filled, one by one, over to the two-storey barn for disposal later. The barn was set several hundred yards away from the house and in the years she had lived there, she had never really explored it. It was connected to the electricity mains, but only a couple of uncovered light bulbs, one on the ground floor and one in the open loft area, gave any suggestion of light.

  Bales of hay took up a considerable space in one corner, still looking and smelling as fresh and dry as the day it had been cut. An old tractor, which to Laura looked like an antique, stood in another corner. Rusty farm implements of all sorts hung from the beams collecting cobwebs. In another small section she kept her gardening tools and a sit on mower for the lawn surrounding the house. She had never used it herself, but before Michael had come into her life, she had paid someone locally to use it.

  There was a kind of loneliness to the place that she had never noticed before. Its timber construction seemed to block out any outside sound altogether and it was so completely silent, so still, that for a moment it made a shiver travel up her spine to the back of her neck. Yet at the same time, as she stood looking around her, she found there was a kind of beauty to the place in the way thin strands of light entered through small gaps in the timber frame and illuminated the cobwebs that had built up in the rafters over the years. It was much like the peacefulness of an old church, she thought.

  She had made several journeys from the house with the boxes of assorted junk and for the first time in days felt as if she had actually accomplished something. By the time she had finished, there was still ample time before picking up Jody to prepare something for dinner. She got back to the house just as the light rain turned to another downpour and the sky turned black. As she peeled the potatoes, she occasionally glanced out to the sea that was by now beginning to look quite wild. It always amazed her how quickly the weather could change living by the coast.

  Rain slammed into the kitchen window with such force it seemed at times the glass would smash. Laura turned the T.V on in the kitchen to drown out the noise and continued with her preparations, and as she did, in the corner of her eye, noticed a chink of light coming from the barn. Dim as they were, the lights inside the barn shone like a beacon in the darkness, and she realised that she must have left them switched on. One of the huge barn doors was also ajar, and caught by the wind, flapped around wildly, repeatedly crashing against the barn’s structure.

  She decided to leave it until she went to pick up Jody; there was little point in getting soaked twice. It was very odd though, she thought, because she was fairly certain she had switched off the lights and secured the door. It seemed, however, that she was mistaken. She tried to shrug off the disturbing lapse of memory as she started to prepare the other vegetables, occasionally looking up and glancing out of the window to the barn, reassuring herself she was not going mad. The last few days had not been the best, and she had perhaps allowed herself to be overtaken by suspicion and doubts. Maybe her lapse of memory was simply the result of a tired mind.

  It happened in the blink of an eye. A dark figure, grey in appearance, stood by the open door of the barn just for a second before disappearing completely from view. In that moment, Laura got the distinct impression that whoever it was seemed to be staring directly towards the house. And like the incident at Jody’s bus stop, it happened so quickly she could not tell if it was a man or a woman. She felt a wave of panic, a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach, but had the presence of mind to rush to the hall and lock the door. Breathlessly, she raced to the kitchen and peered through the window. There was no one to be seen, but the barn door appeared to be closed now and the lights switched off.

  She turned and looked at the clock. It would soon be time to pick up Jody. She would have to leave the house when the time arrived, there was no way she could leave him to walk home alone in the dark, and certainly not with an intruder on the prowl. The car was close; she could make a dash for it, but not until the last possible moment. Picking up the phone, she frantically pressed at the keys. It was 4.40pm.

  ‘Come on, Michael, pick up.’

  The answer machine cut in after a few rings with Margaret’s voice on a pre-recorded message. “Thank you for calling the office of Michael Peterson. The office is closed, but if…” Laura ended the call and immediately dialled Michael’s cell phone.

  It rang and rang. ‘For God’s sake, Michael, where are you? Answer the damned phone.’ There was no answer; it too went to voicemail. ‘Michael, it’s Laura. I don’t know where you are, but please call me. Better still, come home, I think we have an intruder and I’m scared.’

  She paced the floor, frequently watching the clock and peering out of the window. Although it was impossible to be certain, it did seem that whoever had been out there had now gone, so she decided not to leave it until the last minute to meet Jody, but instead to leave while feeling reasonably confident that the coast was clear. After slipping on her jacket she took the chain off the door, slowly opened it and looked around the immediate vicinity, and seeing no threat made a dash for her vehicle, locked the doors, revved the engine and pushed the gas pedal down hard.

  The school bus was due in ten minutes and so she waited at the junction as she always did. Michael had not called back and she began to wonder why neither he nor Margaret was at the office. She hadn’t considered it before, but the earliest Margaret would normally finish work and go home was at five. Knowing Margaret, it would more often than not be even later than that. She was a spinster and liked to work. As for Michael, he would usually work on until five-thirty, or six at the latest. So where was he?

  Sitting in her truck with the engine still running for warmth, and perhaps also for a quick getaway should it be necessary, she reflected over the last few days and how things appeared to be going horribly wrong. Was it her? Was it a simple case of her own insecurities that was causing such an atmosphere? And worryingly, could that also be affecting her mental health?

  Laura rarely smoked these days; she had given up the habit many years before, at least that’s what she told herself. Nevertheless she always kept a pack handy, and occasionally, usually when she was feeling particularly tense, would smoke one or two. This was one of those times. She drew back a lungful of smoke and let it linger before finally exhaling and blowing it out through the two-inch gap in her window.

  Laura was a logical woman, not prone to flights of fancy and not spooked too easily, so she found it difficult to see how she could allow herself to imagine the worst regarding Michael. She trusted her instinct. Neither did she see how she could have imagined seeing that grey figure near the barn.

  I saw it, I know I did, she thought, deeply inhaling on her cigarette again. It was then she remembered the grey figure she thought she had glimpsed for just a second before the school bus came along the day before. Her recollection made for two reactions: firstly, she was positive it was not a case of her losing her mind, and secondly, she was hit with a dreadful feeling of fear. She glanced across the road to where she had seen it. It was possible, she thought, for someone to disappear quickly into the thickly wooded area, but why would someone wish to terrorise her in this way? She had no enemies that she was aware of, either here in Brooksville, or anywhere else for that
matter. It made no sense.

  She wound the window down a little further, flicked her cigarette out and left it partly open to allow the lingering smoke to be drawn out, but when she heard a sharp crack nearby, something that sounded like a piece of dead wood being snapped underfoot, she quickly closed it. Looking over her shoulder and through the rear window, she pressed the brake pedal to give more light behind the truck, but apart from the stoplights illuminating the swaying trees in the immediate vicinity, there was nothing to be seen.

  She looked from one side to the other and turned the headlamps on full beam to see ahead, but there was still no sign of anyone. It reassured her to think that it was probably nothing more than a small animal, most likely a squirrel leaping onto a weakened branch of a tree. Yet it only served to highlight how agitated she had become. It was a sensation she didn’t care for, she preferred to be in control of her emotions, but was instead beginning to feel ever more tense. The muscles in her neck and shoulders were beginning to stiffen. She swayed her head slowly, forcing it as far as she could to one shoulder and then to the next in an effort to loosen up the muscles – the relief was negligible.

  The school bus arrived just as Laura was trying to call Michael again, in any case it went to voicemail once more and she hung up. She got out and rushed over to meet Jody, with the rain still beating down hard as they ran back to the truck. Once they were inside, Laura felt the tension leave her neck and shoulders almost immediately. It was ridiculous of course, feeling safer in the company of an eight-year-old boy, but somehow she did. Or perhaps it was merely the triggering of endorphins, the maternal instinct to ensure the safety of her son, which made her feel calmer and in control.

  Laura did a U-turn and drove back to the house, and although she concealed her concern, her eyes darted around, searching for any sign of intruders in the headlamps’ beam as she asked Jody how his day had been.