A New Game

by Linda L Barton

  “Who are you and how do you know all of this…and don’t call me DEAR!” she yelled, trying to drown out his words.

  He relished the passion growing in her voice, and he knew she would be a perfect Tracker for The Game. “Fair enough, I wouldn’t want you to think I didn’t respect you. I merely find your life interesting, Lucinda. You came from a difficult childhood and managed to stay out of trouble while all those around you were in and out of jail. I admire how you worked your way through school, and taking care of your mother until she was murdered. How sad to lose her because she finally stood up to your stepfather. It must have been difficult growing up in such an environment, but somehow you made it through unscathed. I respect your strength and determination, Lucinda. It is those qualities that make you a perfect Tracker for The Game.” He always loved the moment his opponent learned why he chose them, and what was expected of them.

  “Okay, you know all about my past…So what! I have never hidden it from anyone because I am not ashamed of any part of my life! I’ve worked hard for everything I have, so if you’re trying to get to me because of my past you’d better try again, asshole!”

  “Oh my, that’s not my intention at all. I chose you because of your strength and character. You see, I am always looking for a worthy opponent to participate in The Game, and I can see I have chosen well with you. I look forward to seeing how you handle the next move, and I am quite sure I will not be disappointed.” He chuckled at the image of her seated at her little table with a look of both confusion and rage on her beautiful face.

  “Well, I must go for now. You relax and enjoy your evening, good night Lucinda. I look forward to the next time we speak,” he hung up the telephone.

  Mac was furious. She had no idea what he meant, or what he expected her to do. She looked at her received calls log to get the phone number, but the last one listed was from the Department earlier that day. “What… That can’t be right! Where’s the number for the asshole’s call?” She looked again.

  No unknown number, no restricted number…nothing. “Crap! How did he do that?”

  The frustration of the day was more than Mac could handle. She knew she would never be able to relax and watch television, let alone go to sleep.

  “I know what I need.” She threw her paper plate and empty beer bottle in the trash can then walked to her bedroom to change her clothes.

  ***

  It was quiet in the exercise room this time of the night. Most of the residents in the complex worked in the downtown business district, so they were up early on weekdays. Mac had finished a twenty-minute run on the treadmill and had begun on the weight machine when a thought came to her. Could this caller possibly be someone from my past?

  Her mother had brought many men into their home during those years before she remarried and stopped prostituting. Mac thought back to a picture of her mother taken at a time when she was a vibrant and beautiful woman. It was sad how she had ended up in the later years of her life.

  Her mother had come to the United States to find work from her native country of Panama and had been working as a housekeeper for a hotel in Florida when she had met her father. He was on a business trip, or at least that was the story he had told her mother.

  They had met one day when her father had come rushing around the corner of the hallway and ran right into her cart, nearly flipping it on its side. Her mother had always told her what a handsome man her father was. She said he was tall and muscular with dark, wavy hair, and the most beautiful, emerald green eyes she had ever seen.

  “Mom, he may have been handsome, but he sure was a piece of crap!” Mac murmured to herself then turned the dial to add some more weight to the machine.

  “As soon as things got tough the coward ran off and left us to fend for ourselves. Thanks for nothing, Dad!” She closed her eyes and tried to remember his face, but the image had faded away over the years. The only thing, she could remember, was his eyes because they were the same ones she saw looking back at her every morning in the bathroom mirror.

  Chapter 3

  It was nearly midnight when Mac returned to her apartment. She was sweaty, and her muscles ached, but she felt much better after her workout. She decided to take a hot shower before bed to help her relax.

  As she stepped into the shower, the same feeling of not being alone came over her again. “Knock it off, you’re just paranoid!” she said to herself, as she slipped into the warm water flowing from the showerhead.

  Once she had shampooed her hair, she stood under the soothing water on her tired body, but she would never have been able to relax had she known she was not alone.

  ***

  He enjoyed watching her as she worked out and wondered what was on her mind as she ran on the treadmill. He knew she was probably thinking of their conversation, and to his amazement, it excited him. He marveled in how she would push herself, and how enjoyable she would be in this game. He had played the game several times before, but he knew this time would be special. She was strong and stubborn, so he was convinced that he would have a fulfilling time with her.

  “Lucinda, I know you’re worried about the boy, but I ensure you that he is safe for now.” He smiled as he watched the small figure curled up on the cot in the corner of a dark room.

  Technology is a magnificent thing; he thought to himself. I can watch whomever I choose, and they will never know.

  “Sleep well little one, for tomorrow things will begin to get interesting.” He changed the image on the screen to show a beautiful, young woman with emerald green eyes climb into her bed.

  “Sweet dreams, my dear Lucinda, for tomorrow we take our game to the next level.”

  ***

  The sound of the cell phone ringing brought Mac out of a fit filled dream, “Hello.”

  “Mac, you need to get in here. We’ve got someone here I think you’ll be interested in speaking to,” Officer Daniels said excitedly.

  “What? Can’t this wait until the morning? What time is it?”

  She turned to look at the alarm clock, and then realized it was already 5:37 in the morning. “Fine, I’ll be there in a bit.”

  She sat on the edge of the bed and rubbed her tired eyes. That extra twenty-three minutes sure would have been incredible; she thought to herself.

  Mac stood and walked to the closet when she noticed that same strange feeling of not being alone come over her. What is wrong with me? I must be working too hard lately.

  After she had dressed, she walked to the bedside table and put on her holster. Once she locked the clasp over her gun, she clamped her badge to her belt.

  “Damn, I don’t want to face this day,” she yawned then walked to the bathroom to freshen up.

  As she looked in the mirror, she wondered what was in store for her, and how she was going to learn the identity of the man who kept calling her. Maybe he is the reason for my uneasy feeling. I need to get him out of my mind, though and focus on finding Joey Afton!

  Once she brushed her teeth, she turned off the light in the bathroom and walked to the kitchen to make a cup of coffee and a couple of pieces of toast.

  While she waited as the coffee finished brewing, his taunting voice replayed in her mind, and she did not like how it made her feel. Mac had learned many years ago not give in to fear, and to be cautious of those things you could not control.

  This was her home, the one place she had always felt safe, so why would she suddenly feel strange here?

  “When all this is over I’m going to take some of that vacation time I have coming,” she laughed to herself, as the toast popped up out of the toaster.

  Over the years, Mac had never used any her vacation time to travel. She would occasionally go on dates, but the men always seemed to have a problem with her lifestyle. Relationships were never easy for someone who worked long hours and saw nothing but the dark side of society every day. It also seemed to prevent a romantic evening when the idea of going to bed with a woman who kept a gun on her bedside ta
ble managed to come up in the conversation. Nothing managed to throw ice on the whole romance thing more than a woman who had a difficult time separating herself from the badge.

  She had tried dating another officer once when she was still on the beat but had decided it was best to keep her personal life separate from her job. Besides, she was comfortable with her life the way it was.

  Mac had friends who understood her, and she had a job she loved, so what more did she need? “Well, let’s go see what’s so damned important to drag me out of bed this early.”

  She snapped the lid on her coffee cup and gathered up the toast then walked out the front door.

  ***

  It surprised him when the alarm went off alerting him she was awake. He watched as she sat on the side of the bed, stretching and yawning trying to wake up. He marveled at what a creature of habit she was. Her life at home was one of routine, which made it easy to prepare and execute his moves.

  He smiled as he watched her walk out the front door. “Let’s see who disturbed your slumber so early.” He pushed the button on the keyboard in front of him to listen to the phone call.

  ***

  The morning commute traffic was light, so Mac was able to arrive at the Department earlier than she expected. As she parked her car, she heard the alert on her cell phone go off and assumed it was a text message wanting to know where she was.

  “Damn, I’m here, so calm your ass down!” She opened the text message, Good morning; I see you are out of bed early. I hope you are ready for what I have in store for you today. This is exciting, is it not?

  “What the hell! How does this guy always know what I’m doing?” She looked around the parking lot and wondered if he was anywhere close. Not noticing anything unusual, she got out of her car and walked inside.

  I don’t need any crap today, she groaned.

  ***

  “Oh good, I’m glad you’re here. The guy was talking his head off earlier, but he’s been quiet for the last fifteen minutes,” Officer Daniels said excitedly, as he led the way to the interrogation room.

  “What’s this about?” Mac asked.

  “He said he saw the person who took the boy and killed the dog. We busted him for a burglary a short distance from the kid’s house. He said he had been casing the place earlier when he saw a young, black man run down the road and jump into a red car. He said the guy was carrying a boy that fits the description of the Afton kid,” Officer Daniels took a deep breath and tried to calm his emotions.

  “He’s still in there. Now, go do your magic.” He moved aside, so she could go in the interrogation room.

  “Thanks, I sure hope he isn’t only saying this crap to help himself,” Mac took a deep breath and opened the door.

  “Well, if anyone can sort this all out it’s you,” he winked then turned and walked away.

  ***

  Mac opened the door and saw a small, nervous-looking man with his hands cuffed behind his back sitting at the table. He sat on one of the chairs on the other side of the long table with a look of despair clearly etched on his face. She swallowed hard and closed the door behind her.

  Mac had always hated this part of the investigation. Usually, the suspect would either refuse to talk or would make up a load of empty lies. Mac looked the man in the eyes as she walked to the chair across from his and then sat without saying a word.

  “Are you the Detective I’m supposed to talk to?” the man held her gaze while trying to hide his fear.

  “It all depends on what you have to say. If you attempt to feed me any bullshit, I will get up, and walk out. No deal, no help with your little problem!” she leaned closer to help drive home the point.

  The man looked at her and knew if he screwed this up; he was facing several years locked up again. “Yes, I understand, Detective.”

  “That’s better; now tell me what you saw,” Mac held his gaze.

  The man swallowed, and spoke slowly. “I was watching this house for a few days, you know, trying to learn their schedule and all.” With his hands cuffed behind his back and causing his arms to cramp, he leaned forward to ease his discomfort.

  However, at seeing the displeasure on Mac’s face, he decided it was best to lean back in his chair.

  “I was about to leave when this black guy ran by me holding a small boy in his arms. He jumped into a little red car and quickly drove off.”

  This information immediately piqued Mac’s interest. “Did you see the little boy’s face?” she held her breath, waiting for his answer.

  “No, his face was against the guy’s chest, but I remember the kid’s shirt was red and had those cartoon cars on it. You know the ones I’m talking about, the ones from that movie?” he prayed this was the information she needed.

  Mac opened the file with the information taken from the child’s mother earlier and saw he had been wearing a red shirt with cartoon car characters on it at the time of his disappearance. She felt a surge of excitement, but she knew to keep her feelings in check. She had learned never to show emotion in front of someone you were questioning as you would lose the upper hand.

  She took a deep breath, “Are you sure that’s what you saw?”

  This response upset the man because he had hoped this information would help him. He closed his eyes, and then carefully searched his memory before he spoke again.

  “Yes, I’m sure the kid had a shirt just like I told you about the first time! The guy ran right past me and got into a small red car then sped off!” His words were sharp and full of anger, but the look in his eyes was pleading.

  Mac smiled, as she closed the folder and pushed it aside. She sat quietly for a moment, looking at the man sitting across from her before she spoke. “It looks like today may be your lucky day. If you are telling me the truth, I might be able to help you with your little problem, but if you are lying to me, I will make sure you get everything you deserve. Now, tell me what else you saw.”

  ***

  After twenty minutes of questioning, Mac had a complete description of the kidnapper, as well as a lead on the car. The man was able to identify the make, approximate year and with the right rear fender painted primer gray, she knew it would help narrow the search. He said that dirt covered the back plate, but it appeared to be a Texas plate with an E and R in the number.

  Mac knew this was the information she needed to find Joey Afton. She began a license number search by using the make of the car and cross-referenced the assumed year with plates containing the letters E and R. She was thrilled when her search returned with some good results because there were only five vehicles in the area that matched up on the search.

  “Well, let’s see which one of you took the boy,” she quietly said to herself, as she grabbed her keys and headed out to her car.

  ***

  “Tyrone, tell me where your sister is!” Maybelle Gables was Tyrone and Jenni’s grandmother. She had raised them both after their drug-crazed father had murdered their mother.

  Maybelle was worried sick, and the story, she was getting from Tyrone, was not making matters any better.

  “I don’t believe for one second she went camping with friends. First, she would have asked my permission and secondly, she hates the idea of camping. Now if you don’t come clean with me, I’m going to call the police and file a missing person report.”

  Tyrone knew he could not let her call the cops because the man had told him if the police got involved, he would make sure that Jenni was never seen alive again.

  “Gran, I wish I could get you to believe me. She said she wanted to go, and knew you would not let her. She’s safe and will be home in a few days…I promise.” He knew his words were empty, but he also knew he could not tell her the truth.

  Maybelle knew he was lying, but why would he? What is he hiding? No one goes camping this time of the year, and the last person, who would ever want to go, would be Jenni, she thought to herself.

  “Tyrone, I don’t believe you. You have lied to me too oft
en over the years that I cannot trust you. What is going on here? Are you hiding something about your sister from me? Is she in trouble?”

  Tyrone felt his heart breaking because he had let his grandmother down with all the crap he had done the last few years. He could remember when he was young, and she would say to him, “Tyrone, I want you to grow up to be a fine, upstanding man. You need to stay in school, get good grades, and stay away from the gangs on the streets. I want you to grow up to be a man I can be proud of; a man that would make your mama proud. You are a smart, young man; please don’t waste your potential.”

  He had done fine until he got into Middle School and then hooked up with a group of boys who loved to run the streets, doing drugs, and causing trouble. He committed his first burglary by the age of fourteen and involved in his first gang-related shooting by the age of fifteen.

  Tyrone clearly remembered the day his grandmother demanded that he move out of her house. She had come home early from work and caught him with a few friends getting high with his sister in the next room doing her homework. Maybelle had asked him why he was doing drugs, let alone in her home with Jenni there. He had told her he that he did not need her permission, and that he would do fine without her or his sister.

  Tyrone would never forget her words as he gathered up his things to leave, “I never wanted you to turn out like your father, Tyrone. He used drugs, and they caused him to kill your mother and end up on Death Row. I always had such dreams for you, but you’ve destroyed them by doing this.”

  Tyrone looked at her and could see she had suddenly aged several years, but his pride overran any feeling of guilt brought on by her words. “I don’t care what you think! I will live my life the way I want to, and there ain’t nothin’ you, or anyone else can do to change that! Don’t worry; I can take care of myself just fine!”