Red Rover, Perdition Games

by L E Fraser

  “Now wait just a—”

  She held up a hand to silence him. “Look, it’s simple. Don’t take the test, and we’re off the case. Take the test and even if it turns out you are the father, regardless of how disgusting a human being that makes you, I’ll finish the murder investigation.”

  His face paled. “I don’t know where this hostility is coming from. It’s unseemly.”

  Sam laughed. “It’s been coming for years. It just took another ignored near-death experience to open my eyes.”

  “I’ll drop your car off in the parking lot of the loft and put the keys through the mail slot.” Righteous indignation filled his tone. “Good night.”

  He left with an overconfident swagger, and Sam felt a weight lift from her shoulders.

  After a moment of stunned silence, Reece let out a low whistle. “That was… something else. Nicely done.”

  “Yeah, well, it’s probably something I’ll regret tomorrow,” she said. “Come on, let’s get home.”

  He took her hand and they strolled out to the car. “What’s next?” he asked as he put Brandy in the backseat and held the passenger side door open for her.

  She shrugged. “Find the asshole who keeps trying to kill us.”

  Chapter Thirty

  MY MOTHER’S DESPERATION to find love in a house that would never be a home amused me. I’d taunt her, poking at her festering wound of abandonment. The pain that would flood her eyes was satisfying. I’d watch her tears with a burning in my groin, yearning to cut her flesh to see physical agony mingle with the sting of neglect.

  I wonder if my mother crept into my sister’s room at night. Did she whisper through the gloom, “a little cuddle, my sweet child” or was that degradation mine alone? I never asked because it doesn’t matter.

  Whether it is nature or nurture is irrelevant. I embrace what I am and know many of us exist in plain sight. I catch the eye of a kindred spirit in a park, and it shines with needs that match my own. We’re not burdened by regret, shame, or pity—emotions that stunt the human mind. We have no need for love or empathy. We detest compassion.

  I’ve learned to fake humanity and to mask my yearning to witness misery. Creatures like me are safe from detection because the weak-minded refuse to accept the truth. We stand alongside you in lines in supermarkets. We chat about the weather and imagine blood pouring from the cavity we long to claw into your chest. We pump gas with charming smiles that disguise our desire to witness your charring flesh constrict and suck away from pristine bone. With bovine eyes, you deny there are those of us born without a soul. You see the best in everyone. You are easy prey—the prey on which we hone our skills.

  I cautiously circle, watching for the like-minded. I wait for a partner and for a worthy opponent. There is no fear. There is only the pulsing beat of the game.

  Red rover, red rover, I call Sam on over. It’s time we play a game.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Reece

  THEY SPENT THE next three days recuperating from their ordeal. Sam accompanied him on his Saturday morning jaunt to the St. Lawrence Market. Getting her up at six in the morning wasn’t easy, and she didn’t care for the farmer’s market, but she’d put on a brave face and remained cheerful while he visited kiosks. In exchange, he suggested pizza for dinner, her favourite meal, rather than preparing the coq au vin and baked Alaska he was itching to master.

  Over pizza and chicken wings, they watched the recording of Abigail’s last dance performance. It was getting easier to celebrate Abby’s life, rather than focusing on the darkness of her death, but Sam remained irate with Lisa, Jim, and Roger.

  Lisa had called six times, Jim had dropped over, and Roger had sent flowers and emailed. Sam refused to speak to any of them, even after Detective Alston verified that witnesses put Jordan at the baseball game and Brenda with Roger at his house on the day of the fire. That left Caitlyn as the arson suspect.

  Sam was having a hard time accepting that her theory about Jordan was wrong. She was questioning her instincts, and her sudden lack of confidence worried Reece. She missed her friends and Reece wished he’d stayed out of her relationships. Now she was unhappy and had lost faith in herself. He felt like a dick and didn’t know how to fix it.

  The next day, he was disinfecting the kitchen and cleaning the six-burner gas stovetop when someone tapped at the door. It was either a neighbour or the visitor had followed a resident through the security door again—a regular happenstance that bugged Reece who felt strongly that people should be security-minded in such a big city. He stripped off his rubber gloves, shoved Brandy out of the way, and opened the door.

  “Hi Reece.”

  His stomach dropped when he saw the visitor. “Sam’s at the university.”

  “I came to speak with you,” Lisa said.

  There was something different about her, but Reece couldn’t put his finger on the change. One thing was that she appeared less grouchy than usual. She was smiling, at least.

  Left with no option but outright rudeness, he invited her inside. It was six o’clock in the evening, and he was opening his mouth to offer her wine when he caught himself.

  “I can make coffee,” he said instead.

  “No thanks.” She seemed nervous as her eyes flitted to his while she fiddled with her necklace and shuffled her feet.

  “What’s up?”

  She took a deep breath. “You deserve an explanation for why I’ve treated you the way I have.” She hesitated before adding, “I don’t want you to think that what I have to say is an excuse. I don’t mean it that way.”

  Lisa had treated him poorly, and he wasn’t going to pretend she hadn’t just to be polite. “I’d appreciate an explanation, thank you.” He ushered her to the sofa and sat in a chair across from her.

  She ran her tongue across her upper lip and her eyes shifted around the room before landing on his. “When we graduated high school, Sam and I planned to share an apartment downtown. University of Toronto accepted her for her undergraduate degree in psychology, and Ontario College of Art and Design accepted me.”

  He didn’t know Lisa had studied with the impressive OCAD University. He also didn’t care. What did ancient history have to do with how she’d been treating him?

  She fiddled with her necklace again before dropping her hands to clasp them in her lap. “We found an adorable one-bedroom in Grange Park, a minute walk to the art gallery and the campus.” Her voice was wistful. “I was so excited. Jim was finished law school and articling, so he also lived downtown. It was going to be amazing.”

  Reece snuck a peek at his watch. “Didn’t work out, eh?” He hated to leave a chore incomplete and had the fridge to tackle.

  She shook her head. It looked like she was fighting back tears. “My father said he wouldn’t pay for his daughter to whore around an art school filled with hippy degenerates.”

  Harsh.

  “Sam said to defer, save money, and I could apply for loans for winter admission. Not even a year, everyone said.”

  Good advice that she didn’t take, or maybe something stopped her. Reece waited out her silence.

  “My mother got sick. I had to quit my job. She wasn’t safe alone with my father.”

  The pregnant pause made Reece uncomfortable. “Tough break,” he mumbled.

  “Six months turned into three years,” she said. “My mother went into remission and Detective McNamara got my father into recovery. He talked him into letting me reapply.”

  Lisa’s grim expression told him that things probably hadn’t worked out. He made a point of lifting his arm to examine his watch. Rude, but he didn’t care. She deserved it.

  She blushed and spoke faster. “Detective McNamara died and my father started drinking again. I had to be there for my mother and for Sam, so school wasn’t an option.”

  At the mention of Sam, Reece got defensive. “Sam did continue her education after U of T. She went to Queen’s for her masters. Her father’s death didn’t prevent her fro
m living her life.” He was getting that “poor me” vibe from Lisa that he hated.

  “I know,” she agreed quickly. “And Dad’s sponsor got him through the relapse. But before I knew it, I was pregnant with Kira.” Her voice was low and trembled slightly when she continued. “I love Jim and adore Kira. I decided to postpone my studies until Kira started school.”

  Kira was five, turning six. Reece didn’t know much about preschool education but assumed kindergarten was over, which meant Kira would attend grade one in the fall.

  “Have you applied?” He was sure she’d manufactured some adversity outside her control.

  She nodded. “They accepted me on condition. I have to present my portfolio and fill in some paperwork.”

  “Congratulations,” he mumbled.

  “It’s just that, well… I’m pregnant.” There was no expression on her face. No joy, no regret, nothing.

  Reece didn’t know how to react. A baby was happy news, if you wanted it. If you didn’t, well, that was a different story. What was he supposed to say? Not understanding what she wanted made him uncomfortable and annoyed.

  “I realize how bitter I’ve felt over the years, watching my friends grow and become independent people,” she said with a sigh. “They left me behind.”

  No one left you anywhere. You made different choices.

  Reece squashed his aggravation and linked his hands between his knees. “Why can’t you be a mother and go to school? The key to happiness is adaptation. Everyone has challenges.”

  “I counted on Sam’s help, like with Kira,” she said. “But then I realized how much has changed over the past six years. That’s when I knew school was a pipe dream.”

  Here comes the victimization.

  He leaned back in the chair. “Why’s that?”

  “Because of you,” she stated simply.

  Reece couldn’t believe she was blaming him! What did he have to do with whether she attended school?

  Seeming to sense his indignation, Lisa rushed to explain. “You are the best thing that’s ever happened to Sam. You’re her highest priority.”

  He shook his head in frustration. “So you can’t go to school because Sam and I love each other?”

  “You’re twisting everything around.” Almost as soon as the words came out of her mouth, she was shaking her head. “No, you aren’t. I’m not communicating clearly again.” She sighed. “I did blame you. I resented the fact you talked Sam into doing her PhD. Between school and your relationship, she doesn’t have time for me.” She lowered her eyes to her hands. “I projected all my loneliness and confusion onto you.”

  She laid her hand on her stomach, where he now saw she had a little baby bump. It surprised him he and Sam hadn’t noticed.

  “I’ve treated you horribly,” she said. “I want to change. I’m asking for a second chance.”

  Most people can’t change without sustained effort. If she was on the level, he needed to understand her motivation.

  “What made you decide to talk to me?” he asked.

  “Jim and I are in therapy. It was his idea. At first, I said no. It was easier to blame everyone, convince myself they had the problem. They were too emotionally unavailable. They were selfish. They neglected and rejected me. That same old dance.” Her expression was regretful. “When Sam nearly died in that fire, I had an epiphany.” Her voice quivered. “I looked in the mirror,” she whispered, tears dripping down her cheeks, “and saw my mother. Always the victim.”

  Reece saw her sincerity and wanted to trust her but was skeptical. For over six months, he’d tried hard to connect with the woman in front of him. Truth was he didn’t like Lisa. It wasn’t her dehumanizing conduct toward him. It was her parasitical feeding off Sam. Adjusting behaviour to become a different person took courage and stamina. He didn’t believe Lisa had either.

  “Change is difficult,” he muttered, unwilling to commit to anything at this point. “What’s motivating you to try?”

  She was crying hard now and he felt bad.

  “Growing up, my mother was an angry woman who complained about my dad but bought him bottles of gin.” Lisa wiped her hand across her nose. “I have to break the cycle. I don’t want my children growing up with a mother who blames everyone else for her own broken dreams. Do you see?”

  A mother’s love and desire to protect her children was a strong instinct. A chunk of his resistance melted. Coming here was far outside her comfort zone. She was nervous and scared but was pushing through her discomfort and apologizing.

  If it were just about the two of them, Reece would accept her apology to be gracious but drop the relationship. It wasn’t just about him and Lisa. The woman was important to Sam.

  Reece stood. “Is it okay if I sit beside you?”

  She nodded and he moved from the chair and sat beside her on the sofa.

  “Are you happy about the pregnancy?” he asked directly.

  Her face lit up and her smile was brilliant. “Yes. I’m nearly five months and I’m feeling much better. The first little while was hard. Morning sickness, you know how it is.” She studied him with nothing but sincerity on her face. “I really do want to change for Kira and the baby.”

  “Then you will. Recognizing the consequences of our actions is the single most important tool to facilitate change. Can I ask you something?”

  Her brown eyes held his, and Reece realized how beautiful she was. Wide-set, large eyes with smoky lids. High cheekbones on a flawless Mediterranean complexion. Thick, glossy hair fell in waves over her shoulders. She was stunning. He’d never noticed. All he’d seen was her negative disposition.

  “Why don’t you begin your undergraduate degree part time?” He pointed at the painting she’d given him that hung above the desk. “You’re a talented artist. Can’t you juggle part-time studies with motherhood?”

  “Jim wants me to try in September. The baby will be so young, I’m not sure if I’ll want to be away for even a few hours a week.”

  “Well, you don’t know what your schedule will be or what you can arrange with the university. There may be online lecture options. Remember, fathers enjoy alone time with babies. Mothers don’t get to have all the fun.” He patted her hand. “Explore your options and make the right decision for you.”

  “I’m going to try again to speak with Sam,” Lisa told him.

  “If you want, I’ll mediate,” he said.

  “Would you? Thank you.” She paused and chewed on her lower lip. “Can I ask you to do one more thing?”

  He nodded.

  “Can you share something personal with me?” She blushed. “You see, for me, mutual sharing establishes trust. I want us to be friends, not because of Sam, but because we share our own relationship. Does that make sense?”

  Reece wasn’t sure how he felt about it. But he wanted to know if Roger was right—if Abigail had told Lisa the name of her baby’s father. Maybe if he told her something personal, it would create trust, and he could encourage Lisa to recognize that keeping Abigail’s secret posthumously was hurting people. Regardless of the murder case, Reece would feel better if he could honour Abigail’s wish and conclude his commitment to Talia.

  “Okay,” he agreed. “One sec.” He stood and went up to the bedroom loft. When he returned, he laid his father’s gold Rolex on the table in front of her.

  “If I have a glass of wine, are you going to accuse me of being an alcoholic?”

  Lisa laughed. Reece had never heard the sour woman make that sound.

  “I’d join you if it wasn’t for the baby.” She patted her stomach. “God, I was such a bitch at that dinner party.” Her cheeks flushed with colour. “And I’m sorry I bought you a skunk costume,” she added with a sheepish grin. “Jim was furious.”

  He’d misjudged the man. Reece believed Jim dismissed his wife’s passive aggression, perhaps even enabled it by not confronting her about her behaviour, which was why he didn’t enjoy Jim’s company.

  Reece went to the kitchen
to get his wine and returned to sit across from her, feeling a tad more open to sharing. “That watch belonged to my father. He was a federal court judge.”

  “I know,” she said with a curious expression. “Jim told me.”

  “I had a twin brother, Ray. Growing up, Ray was the wild child. He balked at the idea of attending Western University, our dad’s alma mater. Dad’s hope for a protege landed on me, the hard-working, studious son who obeyed all the rules and did what Father expected. Until I didn’t.”

  He took a sip of his wine. Telling the story was hard, but it was a mistake to try to control Sam’s relationships rather than working on his own. Sometimes, it’s easier to speak your truth to people you don’t know well, which was part of the reason group therapy worked.

  Reece cleared his throat and continued. “I quit law school, joined the Ontario Provincial Police, and didn’t tell my father. Six months later, I went home to accompany my family to a cousin’s wedding in Chicago and broke the news.” He winced at the memory of his father’s reaction. “It didn’t land well, and the ensuing argument was brutal. Instead of trying to work things out, I left pissed off. My whole family died in a ten-car pileup on the I-94 West outside Michigan City.”

  She gasped. “I’m so sorry.”

  He swallowed hard. Embarrassed that tears burned in his eyes, he stood and shuffled to the kitchen, brushing the back of his hand across his cheeks.

  “If I hadn’t fought with my father before he got behind the wheel of the car, he’d have avoided the accident. The argument distracted him and he lost focus.”

  “I’m sure that’s not true.” She followed him to the kitchen. “It was a terrible tragedy. What caused the pile-up?”

  “A hitch on an RV released. Drivers couldn’t avoid hitting the trailer, and the cars behind couldn’t get out of the way.”

  “How old were you?”

  “Twenty-four.”

  It touched him to see her eyes fill with tears.