21 Dares: A Florida Suspense Mystery

by JC Gatlin

  It took a minute for his body to die.

  When it finally fell still, Rocky turned back toward Abbie. He waved the bloody box cutter as he spoke. “You were supposed to bring Officer Hicks here, not the nutty professor.”

  “O—Officer Hicks?” Abbie repeated. “Charlie Hicks?”

  “You were supposed to lead him here!” He let out a frustrated scream and kicked the Professor’s back. “You’ve ruined everything.”

  Abbie backed away toward the window. She stared in disbelief as Rocky grabbed the Professor’s arms and pulled his body backwards toward the bedroom door. He paused and looked up at Abbie.

  “Can you do me a solid?” He straightened his back and stood at his full height.

  “What?” Abbie’s voice squeaked. She felt like she was in some kind of alternate reality. Nothing made sense.

  “Help me get him back into the attic?”

  Abbie couldn’t believe what she was seeing, hearing. “What?”

  “I need to get him back up into the attic, and I need your help.”

  “W-w-why?” She could actually feel her heart pounding in her chest. “Why are you doing this?”

  “I want it to look like our disgraced ex-Officer Hicks killed this guy along with your father.”

  Abbie was speechless. “I don’t—”

  “Are you dumb or just hard of hearing?” Rocky grabbed the Professors limp arms and shook them. “Officer Hicks shot and killed my brother. Now we’re going to make it look like his murder spree is still going on.”

  “You’re framing him?” Abbie brought a hand to her mouth. She reached for her unicorn pendant, forgetting she’d lost it. “Your brother broke into our home, murdered my sister and tried to kill me. Officer Hicks was doing his job. He saved me.”

  “Well, you heard the Professor. He and your Dad stole my brother’s private property.” Rocky paused, as if he hadn’t considered that. He looked down at the Professor’s body. “Guess that’s what you call Comparative Suffering.”

  “Comparative suffering?”

  “Yeah.” Rocky smirked. “I took his course too.”

  “You’re insane.”

  “Hmmm,” he said. “And you’re the one in therapy.” He dragged the Professor’s body to the edge of the mattress in front of the door, then paused. “I really only wanted to hurt Charlie Hicks,” he said. “I tried before to take him down. He wasn’t really stalking that teenage girl. And when she turned up dead, Charlie Hicks should’ve gotten the rap. He should be rotting in jail right now. But he got off.”

  “You framed him?”

  “I delivered justice.” Rocky’s voice turned sharp, defensive. “But when that failed, I waited for a new opportunity to present itself.”

  “McKenzie?” she asked. He nodded and pointed to his forehead. He shot her a subtle grin. Abbie wanted to cry. “She thought you died.”

  “Yeah, I tricked her. She saw me kill your weird therapist friend. He was wearing a mask and she thought he was me.” He laughed and raised his head, as if remembering the event. “It really scared the crap out of her too. You shoulda seen it.”

  “McKenzie loved you.” Abbie looked back at the bodies on the floor. “McKenzie wanted to marry you.”

  “I didn’t love her,” he said. “Not really. I dated her to find you. I knew you two were friends, and she could track you down.”

  “Why?”

  “To set this whole thing in motion. I knew if I could find you, I could find Charlie Hicks.”

  “That’s why you said I was supposed to lead him here?”

  “Well, look who just showed up to the party.” He cocked his head, as if realizing he’d just hurt her feelings. Shrugging, he folded his arms across his chest. “Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything by that. Now are you going to help me get him in the attic or not?” Bending down, he grabbed the Professor’s arms again and pulled the body over the mattress, then the rest of the way out of the room. When he was in the hallway, Abbie turned back to the window. She gripped the bottom edge of pane. Pulled up. Her fingers tightened. Her arms trembled. Finally, the window popped and slid upwards. She slipped through it and onto the roof.

  The night air was cool, and seemed to heighten her senses. Half sitting on the rough shingles, half sliding down them, she made her way to the edge of the roof. She could clearly see the porch and empty swimming pool in the back yard below her. If she could maneuver to the porch, she could probably climb down.

  A voice caught her attention and Abbie looked behind her. Rocky was at the bedroom window, his upper body leaning out.

  “Hey!” He climbed out the window. “Where are you going?”

  Abbie hesitated at the roof edge along the gutter. She looked back at Rocky as he dropped onto his butt and slid across the shingles toward her. Abbie had no choice. Taking a gulp of air, she jumped. She plummeted into the backyard, landing on the hard dirt and rolled. She felt her arm snap, heard the crack.

  Rocky fell from the roof just feet from where she lay. He raised his hand, holding up the box cutter.

  “I asked politely,” he said. “I explained what I had to do and you’re ruining everything—on purpose.”

  Abbie drew a breath, shifted around, got to her feet. Her arm was on fire. He lunged for her, catching her. They hit the weathered deck, smashed into the wooden step railing. The rotted wood splintered, spilling them to the concrete. They rolled, she on top grabbing at the box knife. His other hand caught her throat, pushed her back. She clutched his arm as he rolled over her. He let go. Got up. Held the box cutter.

  “Why are you fighting me on this? You were there. You saw what Charlie Hicks did to my brother.” He stood panting as Abbie pushed up to her knees, rubbing her throat. She swiped the tears from her eyes and the saliva from her mouth. Towering over her, he screamed. “Why are you ruining this?”

  Rocky grabbed Abbie under the arms and dragged her backwards to the empty swimming pool.

  “You were there. You saw what he did.” He dragged Abbie to the edge of the pool, then kicked her in the rest of the way. She rolled against the rough gunite surface to the curved bottom, splashing into a puddle of floating scum. She lay on her side, crumpled over, face down. The gray water bubbled.

  Abbie breathed out. The cold against her skin reached her brain and kicked it into semi-consciousness. Abbie groaned, for a second thinking she was in her room, in bed, with Clem snuggled up against her. She groaned again. Now she was swimming in a lake, back in Pembroke Pines, at night. Wait! Something didn’t make sense. Sliding on the slimy gunite, she rolled over on her back. She drew a breath. Saw Rocky leaning over the edge of the pool.

  It all came back. McKenzie’s body. The box cutter. Professor Cunningham. The attic. Clinton Reed.

  Rocky leaned further over the edge. His body shuddered. The box cutter shook wildly in his right hand, as if he were cutting the air around him.

  Abbie sat up in the puddle. Her hand scraped against the clogged drain grate. Her sprained shoulder throbbed in sync with her heartbeat. She struggled to clear her mind.

  Rocky landed on the concrete shallow end with a dull thud. She saw him from the corner of her eye. A sharp pain shot through her neck when she tried to turn her head.

  Rocky was talking. Abbie wasn’t sure, but he may have been talking to her all along.

  “McKenzie. Susan. Your therapist. Your professor. Your father. It wasn’t personal. I just wanted Charlie Hicks to take the rap for their murders. That would be justice. That would avenge my brother’s death. I want to see Charlie Hicks locked up, sitting on death row.”

  “Charlie Hicks isn’t coming.” Abbie could barely get the words out through the pain. “He was arrested at my apartment complex.”

  “No, he’ll be here. Soon.” Rocky pointed the blade on the box cutter toward her. “So we better hurry.”

  Rocky jumped forward, splashing into the murky puddle. In that one movement, he was almost on top of her.

  Abbie backed against
the rough, curved surface. She tried to stand. A dynamite charge went off in her shoulder and she had to stop. She twisted her back, looked up at the pool edge above her. Her right leg gave out and she fell forward on her face. She was too exhausted to rise again.

  Rocky raised the box cutter. He came at Abbie, towering over her. He waved his arm, pointing the blade. She looked up at him.

  “The police will be here,” she said, no longer caring about the quiver in her voice. “They’re on their way.”

  “And they will find McKenzie’s body and your therapist’s body and your father’s body.” He seemed to count the bodies in his head, as if he was making sure not to omit anyone. Once satisfied, his eyes locked with Abbie’s. “Then they will find your body.”

  “You won’t get away with it.”

  “They’ll say Officer Charlie Hicks didn’t get away with it. Officer Charlie Hicks, the disgraced cop whose been stalking you.”

  He grasped the back of her neck and slammed her face into the gunite surface. Blood poured from her nose. Stunned, Abbie went limp for a second then struggled to her hands and knees. Rocky kicked her, knocking her arms from under her as he slammed her head down again.

  Abbie cried out in pain. For one startling moment, she believed her heart exploded. The breath was completely knocked out of her. She struggled to see him. He was little more than a blurry shape. A burst of motion. Maybe an arm? Something glistened? The blade? It sparkled like the stars.

  She waited for the inevitable. Instead, she heard Rocky cry out in pain.

  Abbie wiped the blood and sweat from her eyes just as gray cinder block hit his arm, knocking the box cutter from his hand. He shrieked as another block hit him square on the back. Abbie looked past him, upwards, to the edge of the pool.

  Josh and Dharma threw more cinder blocks at Rocky, forcing him to step away from her.

  “Get away from her,” Dharma yelled as she hurled a big chunk of concrete at him. It struck Rocky on his forearm. He yelped, then backed away to the opposite side of the pool. Dharma chunked another one at him.

  Josh dropped into the empty pool. He charged, slamming into Rocky. Rocky’s back pressed against the pool wall as Josh punched him in the face. Then decked him again. Then again.

  Rocky held up an arm in defense. His body slumped. Josh stopped hitting him as he slid to the floor. Josh stepped back, looking down at him.

  “Tell me something.” Josh shook his open hand as if he was waving off the pain. “Do people know when they’re crazy? Like, when you’re looking in the mirror, brushing your teeth, do you ever just stop and go, ‘Holy cheese and crackers, am I messed up. I mean, like, I’m a total nutcase.’ Do you every say that to yourself, Rocky?”

  Rocky spit blood. Slowly, he stood, shaking, and tried to push Josh away.

  Josh hit him in the ribs. Rocky doubled over. Josh hit him again, a roundhouse right that slammed into Rocky’s ear. It straightened Rocky up and maddened him enough to take a swing. He hit Josh in the temple.

  Rocky charged. The two struggled, with Rocky pushing Josh backwards onto the rough gunite.

  The box cutter lay in the murky puddle at Abbie’s feet. Moonlight glinted off the blade. Abbie reached for it, fighting off the pain in her shoulder, and picked it up. She gripped it, tightly, then looked over at Rocky and Josh scuffling on the ground. Rocky sat on Josh’s stomach, his left arm pressed against Josh’s throat. His right hand pressed the side of Josh’s face into the grainy concrete. Josh struggled. Gasped for air.

  Abbie moved toward them, holding the box cutter, and plunged the blade into Rocky’s stomach.

  Rocky screamed, and rolled off Josh. Stumbling to his feet, Rocky lowered his head to see the gray handle lunged deep into his abdomen. Abbie crawled toward him, got to her knees, then to her feet. She came face to face with him, then twisted the bloody handle.

  “That’s for Clinton Reed,” she said.

  Rocky screamed. He fell to his knees, splashed in the shallow water of the deep end, then down onto his side.

  Josh rushed to Abbie and grabbed her before she collapsed. He helped her to the shallow end. She fell to the steps. Dharma came up beside her.

  “You’re bleeding.” Dharma touched Abbie’s skinned cheek and swollen eye. Abbie flinched.

  “Lay back and relax,” Josh said. “I think your arm’s broken.”

  Abbie leaned her head back and took a deep breath. Her face was cut and she could feel hot blood dripping from her nose and off her chin. “Thank you,” she whispered.

  “The police are on their way,” Josh said.

  Behind him, Abbie watched Rocky get to his feet in the puddle. He pulled the box cutter out his stomach. She pointed. Josh turned his head. Rocky aimed the blade, threw the cutter. Dharma raised the taser and fired. The charges shot forward, sizzling, and missed Rocky. They landed in the murky puddle and exploded. Sparks ignited across the empty pool. Rocky’s body straightened with the jolt, his screams competing with the crackle of the wire hitting water. When the sparks stopped, Rocky was no longer screaming. He dropped, splashing face first into the puddle. Smoke drifted off his body.

  There was no more noise.

  Abbie looked over at Josh. The blade had grazed his shoulder, but he was okay.

  “Why didn’t you use that sooner?” Josh yelled, looking at Dharma. She shrugged, dropping the gun.

  “I didn’t have a clear shot,” she said. “I was afraid I was going to hit you or Abbie by mistake.”

  Abbie closed her eyes, breathed, then opened them again. “Clinton Reed,” she said. The pain suddenly vanished as her heart pounded in her chest. She struggled to get up. Dharma helped her walk up the steps and out of the empty pool.

  “Where are you going?” Josh called to her.

  “Clinton Reed,” she yelled back, limping. She leaned on Dharma. Josh followed. As they approached the house, Abbie pushed away from Dharma and hobbled on her own. “He’s hurt. I’ve got to get to him.”

  Abbie stumbled through the back door and made her way through the kitchen to the dark living room. Josh came up behind her and ran up the wide steps ahead of her. Dharma assisted Abbie up the staircase. They returned to the second floor. She limped to the attic ladder and looked up. “Clinton Reed,” she yelled.

  Using her one strong arm, Abbie climbed the ladder. She rose through the pain.

  In the attic, her father was slumped forward in the chair. His chin to his chest, he looked unconscious. Or worse. She hobbled to his side, cradled his head.

  “Daddy,” she whispered. A slight groan came from his lips, and Abbie sighed in relief. She hugged him as Josh untied the rope binding him to the chair. When freed, Clinton Reed tumbled into Abbie’s arms. “Stay with me, Daddy,” she cried. “Do you hear me? Stay with me.”

  He raised his head. Opened an eye. Groaned.

  “Hey!” she said again. “Can you hear me? When it’s dark…”

  He moaned. His head bobbed.

  “Stay with me.” Her voice rose. “When it’s dark…”

  “Look for stars.” His voice was barely a whisper, but he said it. He was conscious. He was alive.

  Abbie laughed through her tears. “Save your strength. We’re gonna get you outta here.”

  Police sirens in the distance grew louder, and filled the attic with hope.

  * * * *

  A false dawn broke as neighbors clumped in groups around the old house. Some wearing bathrobes, others just in their underwear, they stood by the curb across the street and along the edges of the property. Squad cars lined the streets, lights flashing. Two ambulances were on the scene.

  The EMTs put Abbie’s father into the back of the first ambulance. Abbie wouldn’t leave him until they shut the doors, leaving her on the street. She watched the ambulance roll forward, then speed away.

  Josh and Dharma were talking to several police officers. Captain Parks stood next to his son, a hand on his shoulder. Abbie made her way to the curb and sat down. Josh and Dharma approac
hed her.

  “He’s going to be okay,” Josh said, taking her good hand in his. She put her head on his shoulder.

  Dharma laughed. “I bet this is a birthday you’re never going to forget.”

  Abbie forced a smile, but said nothing.

  “Hey,” Josh said. “I got one last dare for you.”

  “No more dares,” she whispered.

  “But it’s the last one,” he said to her. “You’re twenty-first dare.”

  Dharma’s head came close to hers. “Twenty-one dares for your birthday. That was the game, right?”

  Abbie mumbled something. Even she wasn’t sure what she said. Her words were slurring and all she wanted to do now was shut her eyes and go to sleep. Somehow she managed to nod.

  “I dare you to watch the sunrise.” Josh pointed toward the east. The first slivers of red glowed over the horizon. He looked back at her. “You made it. You survived your twenty-first birthday.”

  “Yeah,” Dharma said. “And I’m already planning your twenty-second. And, you know, my nineteenth birthday is in a couple of months. We should all do something.”

  Abbie didn’t take her eyes off the eastern horizon. She couldn’t really think about anything but Clinton Reed, her daddy. Finally, two male EMTs approached and checked her vitals. They helped her stand. Laying back in a gurney, Abbie felt them lift her into another waiting ambulance.

  Josh and Dharma climbed into the back of the ambulance with her. He brushed the hair away from the cut on her forehead.

  “So, did I ever tell you what the mayo said when the fridge door was opened?”

  “Josh,” Dharma said, scolding him. “That’s not appropriate.”

  Abbie shut her eyes, listening to their voices. The pain medication was finally kicking in. But even with her head swimming and her eyes closed, she could still feel the warmth of Josh and Dharma’s bodies by her side.

  They had her back.

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