The Method

by Ralston, Duncan

  —I have issues with giving up control/letting go. False.

  —Have you ever been seriously ill/injured? Yes.

  He’d broken his arm when he was young, falling off the monkey bars on the last day of the third grade, and spent half the summer reading books instead of playing with friends.

  —How often does your partner insult you or talk down to you? Sometimes.

  Especially recently, he thought.

  —How often has your partner physically harmed you? Never.

  —I can admit my mistakes and learn from them. True.

  He imagined Linda responding to the same statement and wondered if she’d answered Yes or lied her ass off.

  —If I saw a wounded animal in a trap, I would help it, regardless of my own well-being.

  “What is this, a Voight-Kampff test?” He answered False.

  —I am confident that my spouse has been faithful. True/False

  Linda would never have an affair. Frank knew this with absolute certainty. Her mother had cheated on her father and left the two of them behind for another man. Linda still despised the woman for leaving them, and had never forgiven her. She’d even avoided reconnecting when her mother had made an attempt after Lin’s diagnosis. Frank couldn’t imagine her ever mirroring that behavior.

  He filled in True.

  —I have had or thought about having an affair. True/False

  He answered False and moved on to the next.

  —I prefer hands-on solutions to my problems. True.

  —I love my spouse. He scribbled in the Yes box and read the final question: What Brought You Here?

  Frank scrawled, I want to reconnect with my wife, why else would I be here?

  He laid the questionnaire down on the desk and looked out the window at the sunny day. A tall woman with long, black hair, dressed in a black, one-piece bikini, strode barefoot to the end of the wooden dock. She bent, giving him a view of the crotch of her bathing suit as she placed something on the dock boards. Without even dipping a toe to check the temperature, she dove off, her ass jostling below the bikini line.

  “Well, hello there,” he said to himself.

  He waited for her to surface, feeling a bit like a creep for watching, but still not turning away. She swam back to the dock and drew herself up onto her elbows, her breasts pressing together over the neckline of her bikini. She lit a cigarette and took a long drag on it, hanging off the end of the dock.

  When she looked up, her gaze seemed magnetically drawn to his window.

  Frank ducked back out of sight.

  Had she seen him? Or had the sun reflected off the glass, obscuring him from view?

  Either way, he needed to be more careful. That was someone’s wife out there. His own wife was just down the hall.

  A knock startled him.

  “Mr. Moffat?”

  “Frank,” he corrected the concierge. “What’s up?”

  “Have you finished your assessment?”

  Frank crossed to the door and unlocked it. Alex stood in the hall with a smile, a sheet of paper in hand.

  Linda’s assessment.

  Alex seemed to note Frank’s stolen glance at her assessment. “How do you think you did?”

  Frank looked over his paper with a shrug. “You had to take this test with your wife, right?”

  “Husband.”

  “Oh, cool. Linda’s best friend is gay.”

  Alex grinned. “I’ll just tuck that little factoid into my back pocket.”

  “Sorry. That was a weird thing to say, wasn’t it?”

  “It’s okay. And to answer your question, yes, we did take the test. Why do you ask?”

  “How did you do on it?”

  “Honestly? I lied my ass off.” Alex laughed. “I was worried Don would see it.”

  Frank chuckled, relaxing.

  “Trust me, Frank, you’ve got nothing to worry about. Nobody’s looking at these but the doctor himself, and they’re really not all that important, just a gauge of your mindset going into your therapy.”

  Frank handed it to Alex, who placed it with Linda’s.

  “You guys are gonna make it through this,” Alex said. “I can tell.”

  “You think?”

  “Trust me. I’ve seen hundreds of couples come and go over the years. You get to know the look. You’ll survive.” He put a strong hand on Frank’s shoulder. “And hey, if you don’t . . .” He shrugged. “At least you can say you tried.”

  Alex turned and headed back down the hall.

  As he rounded the corner, one of the assessments fell from his hand and fluttered to the carpet.

  “Hey . . .” Frank began, but stopped himself as the concierge disappeared from sight.

  Frank stepped out into the hall, not realizing he was practically tiptoeing until he neared the page. It had landed facedown. He bent to pick it up.

  Linda’s name was printed in bold at the top.

  Don’t read it.

  He glanced at the first question about enclosed spaces.

  “Lying right off the bat,” he muttered. “That’s an interesting strategy.”

  He headed for the stairs, meaning to bring it down to Alex. Curiosity got the better of him, and he read the other answers.

  Their tests were slightly different, with many of the same questions but in a different order. He wondered if there was a reason for it, but realized these people had known nothing about them prior to checking in, which meant it was likely random.

  He scanned the page, looking for the only responses he really cared about. Like his, they were at the bottom.

  For “I love my spouse,” she’d placed a very Linda-like, neat little checkmark in the box marked True.

  That was good, at least.

  She’d checked False for the affair question.

  Doubleplusgood, he thought.

  In the box marked “What Brought You Here?” Lin had written one sentence much like his own, but with a very different sentiment:

  I’m here because Frank needs closure.

  He read the words several times, unable to process them, and didn’t realize his hand was shaking until the page began to flutter loudly between his fingers and the text became a gray blur.

  It fell to the floor, and Frank returned to his room to think about it.

  Linda was scrubbing makeup off her face in front of the bathroom mirror when the first gunshot went off. She patted herself dry as she stepped out of the en suite, and headed barefoot to the window.

  The man she’d seen earlier in the lobby with his runway model–looking wife lowered the rifle and strode through the tall grass toward the woods. Halfway there, he raised it again and fired a seemingly random shot into the air. Linda followed his aim to see a bird fall from the overcast sky in the east.

  The man watched its descent and trudged out to where it had landed. He stooped, picked it up by the legs, and returned to the lodge with a proud smile, the dead bird bouncing off his hip.

  Beep.

  Linda turned back at the sound, but heard only silence. She returned to the bathroom to get her hair ties.

  Beep.

  The sound came again from the area of her vanity. Without little time to pack, she’d thrown in things she thought she might wear in different weather conditions. She hadn’t unpacked yet, which meant a previous guest had probably left something in the drawers.

  Linda sat down in front of it and opened the top drawer first, but found it empty. The lower drawers were next, also empty except for a crossword book she found had been mostly filled in when she flipped through it.

  Beep.

  Not the drawers. The mirror. Right in front of her.

  She leaned in closer.

  Why would the mirror be beeping?

  She tapped the glass. It seemed normal.

  Beep.

  Definitely the mirror. No doubting it at this distance.

  Linda peered around the back of the mirror. If there was anything behind it, it would have had
to be behind or even inside the wall. Either way, it was too close to see anything but shadow without moving the vanity.

  With effort, she pulled one end of the heavy, awkward vanity and then the other, dragging it over the carpet. Once it was far enough out from the wall, she leaned around to peer behind it.

  A square hole had been cut into the wall, about six by six inches. At the back of the mirror, a square of the reflective backing about the same size had been removed. She could see right through it.

  A small camera was mounted inside the hole, pointed toward the mirror.

  Beep. The little red light flashed.

  Nervous, Linda hurried to the door and out into the hall. She rounded the corner, stepping over her assessment without even noticing it. There were three doors in this hall, and she didn’t know which one was Frank’s.

  She knocked on the closest one. No reply.

  At the second door, Frank called out, “Yeah?”

  “Frank.”

  “Linda? Why are you whispering?”

  “Can I come in?”

  She heard him sigh heavily. A moment later, he opened the door, looking annoyed. “What? Did the rifle startle you?”

  “No. Yes.” She shook her head, feeling flustered. “That’s not why I came over.” Peering over his shoulder, she saw their binoculars on the desk in front of the window. “Are you bird watching?”

  “Huh?” Frank followed her gaze. “Oh.” He looked like she’d caught him at something. “No, I thought I’d get a look at whoever was shooting, but I didn’t see anyone.”

  “It’s the new guests. The husband.”

  Frank’s eyebrows rose. “What the hell’s he shooting at?”

  “A Canada goose, I think.”

  “Is that legal here?”

  “Maybe. But that’s not why I’m here . . .”

  She saw him visibly flinch. “Then why are you here, Linda?”

  He sounded upset, and she couldn’t imagine why, except that she’d interrupted whatever he was doing with the binoculars. “I need to show you something.”

  She grabbed his hand. He stayed firmly inside his room, arm extended.

  “What is it, Linda?”

  “Please, you need to come with me.”

  “All right.” He sighed and with a glance behind him, he allowed her to pull him along. “Are you gonna tell me what’s the matter?”

  “Keep your voice down.”

  “What’s this all about?”

  She dragged him into her room and closed the door, locking it.

  He looked over her suitcases on the floor spilling clothing. “This place looks like a war zone. What the hell’s up with the dresser?”

  “I don’t know if these things have microphones, but we should probably be careful what we say.”

  “What things, Linda?”

  “This,” she said, pointing at the wall behind the vanity.

  Frank approached it, peering around the mirror. “I don’t see anything.”

  “You . . .” Linda frowned and pushed him out of the way. “It was there, I swear.”

  “What was?”

  “A video camera!”

  “A video camera?” He looked at her as though she’d gone crazy. “Come on, Lin. You’re being paranoid.”

  “Don’t you think I’d know?”

  Frank seemed about to retort but closed his mouth and instead looked at the back of the mirror. “Looks like it’s part one-way glass.” He pointed it out, tracing his finger around the edge.

  “That’s why I ran and got you.”

  “How did you notice it? Aren’t those things designed to be discreet?”

  “It’s my job,” she said, only fudging the truth a little, which Frank seemed to accept at face value. The hole was covered, but the seams in the ugly, patterned wallpaper were still visible. “Look, there was a piece cut out of the wall. You can see the edge.”

  Frank came over and ran his fingers over the seams. “Weird. You think somebody’s trying to gaslight you?”

  “I don’t know, but I don’t like it. I’m going to talk to Alex.”

  Frank nodded resolutely. “I’m coming with you.”

  He passed her in the hall. Anger quickening his step, he bounded down the stairs. She caught up with him at the desk just as he rang the bell.

  Alex came out from the back room, where he’d been sitting in front of the office computer. Along the back wall was a row of television monitors, mostly shut off aside from the two that showed the front of the lodge and the lobby.

  “Moffats.” He smiled briefly. “You look troubled.”

  “You’re damn right we’re troubled—” Frank began.

  “There’s a camera in my room.”

  Alex looked relieved. “Oh, that! Just act like it isn’t there—”

  “‘Act like’?’ You’ve been spying on my wife!”

  Linda patted his hand gripping the edge of the counter. “Hon.”

  “Don’t ‘hon’ me, Linda. This is unacceptable!”

  “It is, but we can handle ourselves with some decorum.”

  “Fuck decorum, Lin. This is about boundaries. You can’t go around filming people without their knowledge.”

  Alex dipped behind the desk. Frank leaned over with an angry look. The keypad beeped as the concierge open the safe. He returned with a patient smile and a copy of their contracts.

  “Article seven b of the contract you both signed states—” Alex flipped to it and read, “‘The Participants agree to be videotaped for the purpose of assessment. This footage shall not be used by the Examiners without expressed written permission.’ It’s right there in black and white.”

  “Let me see that.” Frank turned the contract around. “Wait a minute.” He looked toward the loft with noticeable apprehension. “Are you filming me too?”

  “There are cameras in all the bedrooms,” Alex said.

  “I don’t care what we signed, if you’re taping me while I’m on the shitter—”

  “Bathrooms are designated safe zones,” Alex assured him with a patient smile. “Nobody wants to watch you poop, Mr. Moffat.”

  “Christ, this is insane.”

  “Your payment has already cleared. We can refund your money if you like, but your deposit is nonrefundable as per your contract.”

  “I don’t give a shit about the contract—you can’t just film people without their knowledge—”

  “Frank, I’m sorry, but if you’d read the contract, it wouldn’t be without your knowledge now, would it? You really should read things before signing them.”

  “He’s right, Frank.” Linda shrugged. “We screwed up.”

  Frank’s nostrils flared and he sneered. “Fuck,” he said finally, letting go of the desk.

  “Go cool off in the lake,” Alex suggested. “Take out the canoe.”

  “How do we know there’s no cameras out there?”

  “I promise you, there are no cameras other than the ones in the lodge.”

  “What about that maniac? Some guy’s out there shooting off a rifle, scaring my wife to death.”

  “I wasn’t scared.”

  Frank shot her an angry look.

  “That ‘maniac’ shot tomorrow’s dinner,” Alex said. “A Canada goose, I believe.”

  “And the gun?” Linda asked.

  “Locked up in the office.” Alex smiled pacifyingly. “Trust me. You are perfectly safe within these walls.”

  “How do we know we can trust you?” Frank said, voicing Linda's concern.

  “You don’t. Just know that when I was in your position, I felt the exact same way you do now.” He looked genuinely sympathetic. “That’s about all I can offer you.”

  Frank looked like he was about to start up again before his whole body deflated. He turned from the desk and headed for the stairs.

  “I work for a security company,” Linda said once Frank was out of earshot. “A very big security company. I know how this stuff works, okay? If you’re lying to us,
if you’re taping us when you’re not supposed to be taping us, if you’re playing fast and loose with legalities, I will bring a shitstorm down on this place.”

  “I do not doubt that, ma’am.”

  “Good.” She held his gaze to drive the point home. “I want a copy of that contract.”

  “I’ll bring one right up to you.”

  “Thank you. And it’s still Linda.” With that, she walked away.

  5 — The Other Couple

  Frank changed into his swim trunks in the bathroom and headed out into the hall with a towel under his arm and a Ludlum book in hand. As he closed the door, wishing for a lock on the outside, the woman he’d seen—and had considered stroking off to in front of God knew how many cameras—came around the corner, still glistening from the lake, a bright yellow towel wrapped around her hair.

  Up close, he could see she was probably in her late thirties or early forties, judging by the crow’s feet and the beginnings of laugh lines, but her body was as taut as a twenty-year-old’s. He suspected she worked out frequently, and in conjunction with her Egyptian-looking gold and jade necklace, he suspected she was rich enough to put in as many hours at the gym as her husband may have required of her.

  A smile crept onto her lips as she saw him. “Well, hello,” she said, stopping in front of the door nearest the loft. “I didn’t realize we had company this weekend. I was told it was just Neville and I.”

  “Sorry to disappoint you.”

  “Oh, I’m not disappointed.” She looked him up and down. “It should be fun. Don’t you think?”

  “Always nice to meet new people.”

  “Isn’t it?” Without turning away, she opened her door. “Don’t catch a chill in the water. It’s not quite spa temperature.”

  “I’m just gonna dip my toes in, thanks. You might want to be careful in here. Apparently there are cameras in all the rooms.”

  “Are there?” She smirked and raised an eyebrow. “Well . . . maybe I’ll give them a little show.”

  Frank suffered with the lump in his throat rather than swallow. “Maybe you could do a little salsa dance for them with your Chiquita banana hat.”

  She reached up and touched the towel before grinning and attempting a quick, dancelike shuffle. “You like?”