Allan paused in the den. “Tim? Jennifer?”
He got no reply.
“Hello?” he tried again.
Brother and sister finally appeared, strolling casually from the dining room and through the foyer to meet Allan in the den.
“Is something wrong?” Jennifer asked.
“I was just about to ask you the same. Where were you guys?”
“Bathroom,” Jennifer said.
“I never told you where it was. I’m assuming you found it okay?”
They both nodded.
Only Allan hadn’t heard a flush. Sure, the downstairs bathroom was through the dining room and in the neighboring mudroom by the garage, but the flush of their downstairs toilet was a damn powerful one that could be heard throughout the house. It had caused many a giggle during the sleepover last night, potty humor apparently still a thing amongst nine-year-old girls.
And so what do you ask next, Allan? If they actually used the toilet? And if so, did they remember to flush? Come on.
There was an awkward moment of pause. The three of them standing in the den, considering one another.
“Is something wrong?” Jennifer asked.
Again and again with the same stupid question. Yes, he wanted to say. Yes, something is wrong. I can’t put my finger on it, but something is definitely wrong with you two, and it’s neither grief nor loss. You’re making me uncomfortable in my home, and I’d like you to leave.
The doorbell rang again.
“Are you going to get that?” Jennifer asked. And wasn’t there the slightest hint of a smirk creasing the corner of her mouth just now? Short and fleeting, but there. He saw it.
For the second time that night, the doorbell had interrupted Allan’s gut. He would not allow a third. Once he welcomed his new guests, he would politely ask Jennifer and Tim to leave.
Chapter 18
Allan opened the front door and was pleased to see Jon and Karen Rogers waiting. Having lost their daughter, Ella, to leukemia roughly around the same time Allan had lost Samantha, the three had formed a decent friendship, or as decent a friendship that could be formed under such circumstances. There were dinners and other social gatherings outside of support group and therapy at the clinic, but nothing heavy. The three of them enjoyed one another’s company and saw chances for social outings as a sort of unspoken therapy, unspoken being the primary word considering they never discussed Samantha or Ella during their outings. It was their time to enjoy good company while leaving loss at home where it would always be waiting, undeterred by lack of invitation.
“Hey, you two,” Allan said with a warm smile. No big codependent grin necessary this time; he was genuinely happy to see his friends. Better yet, happy to have allies—Jon and Karen would likely understand his asking Jennifer and Tim to leave. He knew Amy would.
“Everything all right?” Jon asked the moment he and his wife stepped into the foyer.
Allan was momentarily stunned. How could they know the dilemma he was facing with Tim and Jennifer already?
“Huh?” was all Allan could manage.
“It took you awhile to answer the door,” Karen said.
Oh, right. Duh.
“Oh, no, no—everything’s fine, it’s fine. Come on in.”
***
Allan led Jon and Karen into the den…where Amy stood alone.
Amy smiled and went to say hello, but got no further.
“Where are they now?” Allan asked.
Amy shook her head. “No idea. They were gone when I came in.”
“Where are who?” Jon asked.
Allan didn’t answer right away. He left the den and went into the kitchen.
“I just came from there,” Amy called to him.
Allan reappeared. “Well, they couldn’t have gone through the foyer; we’d have seen them.” He approached the far end of the den where a sliding glass door led out onto the patio. Vertical blinds covered the sliding glass door. The blinds swayed slightly as though recently disturbed.
Allan pulled the blinds and hit the patio light. He saw nothing. Went to unlock the sliding glass door and stopped. It was already unlocked.
Amy appeared at his side. “What’s wrong?”
“Door’s unlocked,” he muttered. “They must have gone this way.”
“Gone where?”
Allan cupped a hand over his eyes and peered through the glass. The patio lighting offered acceptable direct line of sight, but poor periphery. For all they knew, brother and sister were cloaked in the shadows not three feet away.
“No idea,” Allan said, still looking.
Amy did as Allan had done, cupping a hand over her eyes and pressing her face close to the glass for a better look. “I don’t see anyone.”
They both pulled away from the sliding glass door.
“You think they went home?” Allan asked.
“By slipping out the back without a word?”
“You were expecting a normal exit from those two?”
“What’s going on?” Karen broke in from behind them.
Allan locked the sliding glass door, killed the patio light, and pulled the blinds closed. Turning, he said: “Honestly? I have no idea.”
“We’ve got two new people here tonight,” Amy said. “A brother and sister. Their behavior thus far has been…strange, to say the least.”
“Well, that’s to be expected, isn’t it? First-timers?” Karen said.
Allan shook his head. “Trust us, we took all that into account. These two…” He snorted. “It’s like they’re playing some kind of game.”
Amy spun towards Allan. “What did you say?”
Allan was momentarily rattled. He felt like he was being accused of something. “About what?”
“About playing a game.”
Allan splayed a hand. “What? You were saying the same exact thing.”
“I said they were odd—I never said they were playing a game with us.”
“Well, haven’t they been?”
“What do you mean, Allan?” Jon asked.
Allan shrugged. “I don’t know exactly. It’s like they’re crossing the line but not crossing the line, you know?”
“No, I don’t,” Jon said. “Give us an example.”
Amy broke in. “No. No examples. We’re leaving. All of us.”
Allan frowned. “Leaving?”
“Their game will only escalate,” Amy muttered, head down, rifling through her bag.
“What the heck are you talking about?” Allan asked.
Amy ignored him, pulled her phone from her bag, and dialed. Waited. “Please sober up,” she whispered. She hung up and dialed again. Waited. Hung up again. “Dammit!”
Allan put a hesitant hand on Amy’s shoulder. “Amy, I felt like we were on the same page earlier. But I gotta be honest—you’ve lost me now.”
The doorbell rang.
No one moved.
“Are you going to get that?” Karen asked.
Allan nodded absently and shuffled toward the foyer, still affected by Amy’s behavior.
He opened the front door.
No one there.
“Are you kidding me?” he said to himself.
Allan stepped out onto his front step, looked in all directions, the two lanterns flanking his front door offering him a gloomy yellow lens for a short distance until ultimately diffusing into the black of night. He could see his driveway; he could see his front yard; he could see the many trees in that yard and the many silhouettes of trees beyond.
“Hello?!” he called. “You having fun?”
Allan stepped back inside and slammed the door.
When he returned to the den by himself, Amy asked: “Who was it?”
“No one,” he said.
“No one?”
“Yes.”
“No one—like nobody was there?”
“Amy, if someone was there, don’t you think they’d be standing next to me right now? Trust me, I looked, and I saw absolutel
y noth—” Allan stopped abruptly, his face going queerly blank for a spell as though in the throes of déjà vu.
“Allan?” Jon said.
“I saw nothing,” he whispered, still in his daze.
How the hell had he missed it the first time?
Allan snapped to, spun around, and bolted for the front door, running outside until coming to a dead stop in his empty driveway.
All of the cars were gone.
Chapter 19
All four hurried back inside, Allan locking the front door behind them.
“Allan, what the hell is going on?” Jon asked. “Where are our cars?”
“I have no idea.”
“It’s them,” Amy said.
“Them who?”
“The first-timers—Jennifer and Tim.”
“What? Why?”
“Because it makes the most sense.”
“None of this makes sense!” Jon snapped. “Are you saying they’re car thieves or something?”
“Let’s hope that’s all it is,” Amy replied.
Jon gave her a crazy look. “That’s all? You get your car stolen every day, do you, Amy?”
“Relax, Jon,” Allan said. “I don’t think that’s what she meant.”
“How did they get here?” Karen asked. “The first-timers. Did they drive?”
“Well, they certainly didn’t walk,” Jon said, his comment clearly referencing their rural surroundings.
Allan looked away in thought for a moment. “I don’t remember seeing a car. I remember your cars, but I don’t remember seeing theirs. I suppose they could have parked on the street and walked up the driveway.”
“What difference does it make if they drove or not?” Jon asked. “They were here, and now our cars are gone.”
“Because if they didn’t drive, it means they got a ride,” Amy said. “Which means there’s a third involved.”
Instant silence followed this prospect. Everyone but Amy began looking over their shoulders as if the potential third might be creeping up behind them.
“Well, I guess that makes sense,” Karen eventually said. “The third person drops them off, leaving the two of them to take two cars—one each.”
“This is not about stealing cars,” Amy said.
Jon faced her. “Well, then do you mind telling us what it is about? I’m sorry, Amy, I don’t mean to be an asshole here, but you’ve been more than just a little cryptic thus far.”
Amy said nothing.
“Look, everyone just relax,” Allan said. “I know we’re a little freaked out, so why don’t we just call the police and let them take it from here.”
They all nodded.
Allan started for the stairs.
“Where are you going?” Jon asked.
“My cell’s in my bedroom.”
Jon pulled his cell from his pocket and handed it to Allan. “Use mine.”
Allan took the phone and started fiddling with it. He handed it back to Jon. “You got a security code on it or something?”
Jon took back his phone and dialed. Frowned and pulled the phone away, eyes staying on the cell as he said: “Says I’ve got no signal.” He looked up at Allan. “Says I’ve got no signal. You have trouble with reception out here?”
Now it was Allan who frowned. “Not at all.”
Both Karen and Amy pulled out their phones simultaneously.
Karen looked at Amy. “I’ve got nothing. You?”
Amy shook her head. “Nope. Was working fine a few minutes ago.”
“How is this possible?” Jon asked. “How can all of our phones suddenly have no reception?”
“Try your landline,” Amy said to Allan.
Allan nodded and hurried into the kitchen. He returned with a cordless phone and a look of disgust. “Nothing,” he said, holding up the phone. “Line’s dead.”
“Please tell me this is some kind of joke,” Karen said.
Jon pulled his wife close and held her.
Allan tossed the cordless phone on the sofa. “Okay, let’s everyone just think for a second. My car is still in the garage. I say we pile in and drive to the police, yeah?”
“Hell yeah,” Jon said.
“What if someone else shows?” Karen asked. “For group, I mean?”
“Group started twenty minutes ago,” Allan said. “I’d say we’re it.”
The four of them followed Allan’s lead through the dining room and into the mudroom. Allan opened the door leading into the garage, hit the light switch on the wall, and froze.
All four tires on his SUV were flat. The windshield was smashed. Scraped into the driver’s-side door was a question: Is something wrong?
Chapter 20
“Jesus Christ,” Jon whispered.
The four of them stared incredulously at the battered SUV—the flat tires, the smashed windshield, and, of course, the message scraped into the driver’s-side door.
“Still think it’s about car theft?” Amy said.
Jon spun on her. “Okay, Amy—you seem to be the expert here. Any chance you can start enlightening us?”
Amy gave a thin smile. “Gladly. First I’m gonna need you to get out of my face.”
Jon took a step back, let out a short sigh, and nodded apologetically. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Amy said. “Trust me, I get your frustration. And I assuredly get your fear. I’ve been there and gotten the T-shirt, as they say.”
“What are you talking about?” Allan asked.
“Anyone here heard of Crescent Lake?” She then made air quotes, voice ripe with contempt: “‘The Crescent Lake Massacre’? The Fannelli brothers? Monica Kemp?”
Karen’s eyes lit up. “Oh yeah—I remember that.”
Allan started nodding slowly as the memory trickled back. “Yeah, I remember hearing about that.”
“I don’t,” Jon said. “What happened?”
“Let’s go back in the den and I’ll tell you,” Amy said. She then looked at Allan. “Do you have a gun?”
“No,” Allan said softly.
“A gun?” Jon blurted. “Why do we need a gun?”
Amy laughed—the type of laugh you couldn’t help when someone asked a stupid question.
Chapter 21
Aunt Kat sat on her sofa, laptop on lap, surfing through Facebook. She marveled at all the ridiculous posts. So many people posting about themselves, and about nothing at all. Look what I’m eating! Look where I am! I think this is wrong! I think this is right! And of course there were the selfies. Look, here’s a photo of me taken by…me! The novelty of it all was lost on Kat.
And then hypocrisy took the stand, enlightening her with testimony stating that what sustained such nonsense was people like her who bashed yet indulged all the same. No different than the reality TV bug, really—a bug that shamelessly fed on her as well. She even DVR’d them.
Kat chuckled at her shame and set the laptop aside. She looked over at Jamie and Janine, both flat on their backs in front of the TV, heads propped up by pillows.
“You guys wanna play a game or something?” she asked them.
“Nah,” they said without turning around.
“Wanna snack?”
“Nah.”
“Go for a walk?”
“Nah.”
“Buy a puppy?”
Both girls scrambled onto their knees. “Huh?”
“What’s with you two?” Kat asked. “Usually by now I’m tempted to slip NyQuil into your juice.”
“Are you gonna buy us a puppy?” Janine asked.
“No. Tell me what’s wrong.”
Janine went first. “Why wouldn’t Daddy let us go to the thing at our house tonight?”
“Because it’s for grownups.”
“But it’s about Mommy,” Jamie said. “And Daddy said it makes him feel better to talk about her with other people. Why doesn’t he want us to feel better?”
Kat slid off the sofa and onto her knees like her nieces. She inched close to them. �
�Oh, honey, it’s not like that at all. Your daddy wants nothing more in this world than for you to feel better. But sometimes there are things that work for adults that don’t work for kids.”
“Why can’t we at least try?” Janine asked.
“Do you want to try with me?”
Janine frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Why don’t we talk about Mommy?”
“But you knew her.”
“That’s not the point,” Kat said. “The point is for you to talk about her—to talk about all the good memories you have of her.”
“It makes me sad when I do that,” Jamie said.
“Me too,” Janine said.
Kat gave a nurturing smile. “Maybe that’s why you’re not ready to go to Daddy’s thing just yet.” She inched closer and cuddled up to them. “Listen, you’re always going to miss your mommy; that will never go away. But soon a time will come when you think about her and you won’t be so sad. You’ll be happy.”
“Happy?”
Kat dug for a good analogy. There were none. She tried all the same.
“Do you remember when we all went to Disney World? How you guys cried when we had to leave?”
They nodded.
“Do you cry when you think about Disney World now?”
They shook their heads.
“No, you don’t. It’s nice to talk about it now, though, right? To have all those wonderful memories?”
“But Disney World is still there,” Jamie said. “We can go back.”
Kat’s heart plummeted. She felt momentarily ill. Forcing an analogy for such a subject…she deserved whatever sickness her guilt handed out.
“I guess I didn’t explain that as well as I’d hoped,” she said, offering up an apologetic smile.
“Can we call Daddy?” Jamie asked.
Kat glanced at the clock on her cable box. “Oh, honey, I’m not sure his thing is over yet.”
“Can we try?”
It’s the least you can do after that analogy debacle, she thought. “Okay.”
Kat retrieved her cordless phone and dialed Allan’s cell. It went straight to voicemail.
Bad Games: Malevolent Page 9