Frozen Statues, Perdition Games

by L E Fraser

  The revelation fuelled Reece’s rage. Eli didn’t need a low-paying internship. “Why did you take this job?”

  “Dad told you about my biological father.” Eli’s expression was dark. “He found out about the sale. He called, wanting money. I refused.”

  “What does that have to do with me and Sam?”

  “He threatened Danny’s life.” Eli’s lips thinned and his eye twitched. “A week after the call, someone attacked her on campus. He said, ‘Next time you’re dead, unless your brother gives up the money.’”

  Eli snapped the elastic around his wrist with such force that Reece winced.

  “Danny… Her past is messed up. I will not let anyone else hurt her.” He bit his lip so hard that blood dribbled down his chin. “My foster dad’s lawyer set up a corporation. I do not exist. Everything I have is in the corporation’s name. I changed my legal name before I applied for my security licence. Danny changed her name, too.” He licked the blood from his lip. “Before we moved, Danny wiped out any trace of us online. I wanted to give away the money but my parents talked me out of it. They said the money would keep Danny safe.”

  The bigger concern was that giving it away would enrage their son’s intimidator. Reece said nothing.

  “This nightmare is because of the money. I hate it.” Tears welled in Eli’s eyes. “It put Danny’s life at risk. He will kill her, just like he killed my mother.”

  “What do you want with us?” Reece asked.

  Eli leaned across the desk. “I want you and Sam to help me. We have to prove that he murdered my mother. We have to do it before his parole hearing in June.”

  “For Christ’s sake, Eli, why didn’t you just ask us?” Something occurred to Reece. “How did you find out we were hiring an intern? It wasn’t Wayne Kalstein at Fanshawe, was it?”

  Eli shook his head. “Behoo told Danny. She helped him last year when Bloody Widow launched a cyberattack against you.” He rushed to say, “But I want to be a private investigator and I want to mentor with you. I have to be the one to keep the douchebag in prison. He has to know I am responsible. If he does, he will leave Danny alone.”

  Reece doubted that. Revenge was a stronger motivator than money was. He stood and went to a bar fridge perched on a rickety wicker table and grabbed a beer. He paused before offering Eli a bottle.

  They opened their beers and drank in silence.

  “I am not good at reading people’s body language,” Eli said. “If they do not speak directly, I miss the point. But even I could tell that Sam disliked me at the interview.” He sipped his beer and lowered his head. “A standard background check would not tell you anything. But a deep web hack would,” he mumbled. “So… well, I got Danny to ask Behoo to lie.”

  Behoo’s lack of loyalty disappointed Reece but he’d deal with that later. “Does your father know Incubus?”

  Eli shrugged. “I doubt it. Incubus would be in protective custody. That would be in a different block.”

  “Have you or Danny ever gone to Millhaven?” Reece asked. “Or communicated in any way with an inmate?”

  He shook his head.

  “They log everything,” Reece warned him. “Visits, phone calls, letters—we’ll be able to find out.”

  “I have never contacted anyone. I promise.”

  A call to the prison administration would confirm his claim. Reece didn’t have the authority, but the woman who prosecuted Incubus did. He hated to ask Gretchen Dumont for a favour, especially now, but he’d grovel if it meant protecting Sam.

  “I was going to tell the truth.” The skin around Eli’s wrist was bright red from snapping the elastic. “If I proved my value as an employee, Sam would like me.” Eli’s eyes grew moist and his lip trembled. “People do not like me. Not usually. My quirks make them angry. When I was a kid, they were mean.”

  Reece rubbed his eyes. Sam wouldn’t have hired an intern associated with a convicted felon, especially one serving time with Incubus. And she hadn’t liked Eli, not at first.

  “Were police involved after your sister’s assault?” he asked.

  Eli nodded.

  “Give me the date and names.”

  He recited the details and Reece called a contact at London Police Service. He waited on hold while the detective looked up the case.

  The incident report confirmed everything Eli had said, including the accusation that his father had orchestrated the attack against his foster sister from behind bars. Reece hung up and gazed pensively at his intern, undecided over what to do. It didn’t appear that Eli or Danny was helping Incubus with the psychological warfare against Sam. But Reece wasn’t positive. It had to be someone who knew Sam, today or in the past.

  Eli typed on his keyboard and then twisted his laptop to face Reece. “This is the file on my mother’s murder. The minimized docs are my father’s arrest record and transcripts from his trial.” Eli swallowed. “The PDF icon is my Children’s Aid record. I’m telling you the truth. These will prove it.”

  Reece read the first document. An unknown assailant had gunned Eli’s mother down in a convenience store robbery. Eyewitness testimony stated that the masked robber had walked into the crowded store and shot her. There were no other casualties, and the perpetrator had escaped with less than five hundred dollars in cash. Reece closed the file and read the second document. Police had apprehended Eli’s father during a failed bank robbery where one of the perps shot a security guard. Eli’s father testified against his accomplice and received a reduced sentence for armed robbery and second-degree murder. Reece opened the CAS file last. The details of Eli’s abuse as a child sickened and horrified him. His eyes strayed to the two scars on Eli’s face. He dropped his gaze to Eli’s wrist. Below the red ring from the elastic, circular burn scars covered his forearm.

  It was dark outside by the time Reece gave Eli back his computer.

  “You should have told us,” he said.

  “The lies spiralled. I could not figure out how to come clean,” Eli said in misery.

  “I wish you’d given us some credit,” Reece said. “You aren’t responsible for your father.”

  Eli’s face brightened. “You mean you will help me nail the douchebag before his parole hearing?”

  Despite the gravity of the situation, Reece chuckled. “You’re a multi-millionaire. You could hire a team of PIs to find evidence against your father. You don’t need us.”

  “But they would not teach me how to do it,” Eli said with desperation. “They would not let me intern with them.”

  His naivety around the power of money astounded Reece. He laughed outright, but checked himself when he witnessed Eli’s crestfallen expression.

  “There can’t be any more lies,” Reece stated firmly. “Law enforcement careers require loyalty and honesty. It’s black and white. Lies cause distrust that negatively impact relationships. Get it?”

  Eli’s head bobbed. “Got it. I will not let you down.”

  “I’m not guaranteeing anything but I’ll talk to Sam.” Reece stood. “Come on, I’ll drive you home.”

  Eli gathered his belongings and they opened the office door.

  Sitting in the corridor outside the door was a vase filled with white lilies.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  Sam

  SAM SAT AT the kitchen table, gulping a double espresso. The caffeine wasn’t helping. Rather than clearing her head, it was making her jittery and anxious. She had slept for about four hours, never entering a cycle of deep sleep. Joyce had visited four times, brandishing the blood-filled lily.

  In the most frightening nightmare, her sister had taken her to the putrid cabin. They’d floated down scorched and crumbling stairs and through a shadowy stone corridor to the kill room. Blood had wept from the stones in the cellar walls, running in rivers and pooling on the dirt floor. Incubus’s other five victims had stood in a line at the bottom of the medical table. Each gestured to Sam with a white lily, welcoming her to their hell. Two of the women stood beh
ind shiny metal stools. They set their blossoms on the seats. The flowers’ green throats began to glow and pulse inside the shimmering white petals. The women’s mouths had opened in silent horror and maggots had spilled across their chins, tumbling in a squirming mass across the swell of their naked breasts and dropping to the flowers on the stools. The maggots’ fat white bodies burst and gore spilled across the lilies’ velvet petals. Joyce had run her finger through the blood that dripped from the stools’ seats. “Remember,” she had whispered.

  Sam gazed out the window. The day was dark. Toronto had received less than fifty hours of sunlight in January, rather than the seasonal average of over eighty. February wasn’t shaping up to be any better. Along with exhaustion, the gloomy days and cold dampness were feeding her depression. She wandered over to the mangled photo albums that lay in a discarded pile beside a bookcase. Why had she thrown out all of Brandy’s pictures? It was stupid impulsiveness, done in a moment of black grief.

  Shoving her arms into her leather jacket, she jogged down the back stairs, expecting to find a lily on every landing.

  Outside at the dumpster, she clutched the edge of the filthy bin and hoisted her body up. Empty. The city sanitation service had already been by. Tears burned behind her eyes as she jumped down. Lisa would have puppy pictures. But Sam didn’t want those. They wouldn’t be her private memories.

  Her phone tweeted and she opened Reece’s text.

  Meet me at noon where you caught Incubus.

  He expected her to drop everything and race to the warehouse in a half hour. She sighed. Justice was black and white to Reece, and he’d have trouble reconciling why she had withheld evidence during a police investigation. His typical text messages were a muddle of symbols and cryptic shorthand, but this one was plain and to the point. She suspected he was in ‘cop’ mode, and he’d unconsciously mimicked that professionalism in his text. If he wanted to reconstruct the events that led to the final showdown with Incubus, Sam had damage control to do. Tiny fissures in a relationship grew into impassable caverns fast.

  Disheartened, she went to the ugly loaner car and drove to the warehouse.

  Someone had poured fresh gravel in the lot. New windows circled the top of the huge single-level structure and bricklayers had patched the damaged walls. Someone must have bought and renovated the burned-out warehouse. The new doublewide security door was a solid grey metal, but one side was ajar. She glanced around for a company sign, but there wasn’t one. Reece’s Camry wasn’t there, but a minivan suggested that someone was inside. Sam pulled both of the doors open wide to prevent anyone from suspecting her of trespassing. She stepped inside.

  Boxes, wrapped tight with industrial cellophane, sat on wooden skids that marched down the centre of the enormous space. On the right side, giant pallet racking ran in horizontal rows. The grey metal frames held bright yellow racks stuffed with more plastic-wrapped skids. The high shelves reached close to the metal-beamed ceiling. It reminded her of Costco, without the merchandise displays.

  Even with the natural light from the open door, the gloom restricted her sight. She hunted for a light switch. There were seven of them on a console by the door, but when she flicked them, nothing happened. She circled a parked forklift and wandered between two rows of racks. The height of the units cast long, dark shadows. The shelving ended about three feet from the exterior wall. A narrow corridor ran the length of the building and was wide enough for foot traffic. The high windows provided faint streaks of light from the overcast sky. There was no company signage affixed to the interior walls, either. Sam examined the racked inventory. No identification on the foggy plastic wrap, and she couldn’t read the labels stuck to the heavy cardboard underneath. They were yellow and black, which made her think of chemicals. She strolled back to the wide lane beside the skids.

  “Is anyone here?”

  A woman yelled, “Over here, at the loading dock.”

  It grew darker as Sam walked to the rear of the large warehouse. She switched on her cellphone light. A woman stepped out from between the tall racks.

  “What are you doing here?” Sam asked in shock.

  “Wondering the same thing.” Lisa flipped her long black hair over her shoulder. “My daughter isn’t a girly-girly, but I doubt she’ll find this fun. What’s your plan for adventure day?”

  “Adventure day?” Sam repeated.

  Lisa waved her phone. “You texted me to meet you here. You said you wanted to show me what you and Kira were doing for adventure day.” She frowned and raised her eyebrow. “I thought you’d plan something for Valentine’s.”

  A knot of fear clenched Sam’s stomach. “I didn’t text you.”

  “You did,” Lisa insisted. She thrust her cell at Sam.

  Come check out what I planned for Kira’s February adventure day. Meet me at noon. A second text from Sam’s number was the address.

  Reece hadn’t invited her here, which was why the language in his text was unusual. And whoever had lured her best friend knew that Sam took her goddaughter on adventure days. Panic gripped her. She shut off her phone and covered Lisa’s cell with her palm.

  “Turn it off,” she ordered in a low tone.

  Lisa did, and then put it in her pocket. “Why would a six-year-old want to visit a warehouse? Are there toys in the boxes?” She giggled.

  “Lower your voice,” Sam hissed. “I didn’t send that text.”

  Just like Gretchen hadn’t sent those text messages to Reece. It was a trap. Sam snapped her head from side to side. Anyone could be hiding between the multiple rows of pallet racks. She studied the shadowed aisle between two rows. Empty. She grabbed Lisa’s arm and dragged her to the wall at the end of the shelving unit.

  Something banged and Lisa jumped. Sam shoved her flat against the wall. The racking blocked them from the centre aisle. They were too far from the front for anyone who peered down the corridor along the wall to detect them. A door slammed, leaving only the murky grey light from the high windows.

  “Stay here,” she whispered.

  “What? Where are you going?”

  Keeping her right hand on the wall, Sam shuffled back toward the loading dock. She peeked around the towering shelf that blocked her from sight. She couldn’t make out more than a metre down the aisle adjacent to the skids. But the noise had come from the front. If she was fast and quiet, she should be okay. She slid to the loading area and tugged on the rolling door. Locked. She didn’t have time to hunt for a switch box and it would need a key to activate. They’d have to escape through the front door.

  Keeping low, she returned to Lisa and took out her phone. A better plan would be to hide until police arrived. She stared at her cell. No signal. But they’d had a signal just a moment earlier.

  “Check your phone. Do you have a signal?”

  Lisa fumbled her phone from her pocket and turned it on. “No.” Her voice was tight with panic.

  Whoever had brought them here had jammed cell signals. They were on their own.

  “Oh my God,” Lisa moaned. “Are we trapped?”

  “No. This narrow corridor is unobstructed. It’s wide enough for us to get through single-file. We can follow it to the door,” she murmured.

  Lisa twisted her body and squinted down the dingy corridor, an expression of abject horror on her face.

  Growling laughter echoed through the space.

  “What is that?” Lisa yelled.

  Sam pressed into Lisa’s chest, trapping her tight. She clamped her hand across her friend’s mouth and leaned in to whisper into her ear. “You have to be quiet.”

  Something clanged against metal and the noise was deafening. Lisa jumped and whimpered low in her throat.

  “Not a sound,” Sam warned her.

  They stood motionless, listening to footsteps crossing the vast space.

  “Come out, come out, wherever you are,” an inhuman voice growled.

  A few more minutes passed in tense silence. Lisa gasped. Her eyes widened and her mou
th gaped as she stared transfixed at something behind Sam.

  She craned her neck to peer over her shoulder. When she caught sight of their hunter, she pressed her hand harder over Lisa’s mouth.

  “Come out, Samantha, and I’ll let your friend live.”

  She stayed still, holding her breath. Her eyes locked onto a thing that clomped over and stopped, standing at the base of the racks that shielded them. If the man glanced to his right, she wasn’t sure the shadow cast by the boxes was dark enough to hide them. But the brightness emanating from the intruder’s hideous costume might blind him to their location.

  He wore a phosphorescent cloak that lit up the darkness, making him appear to be a phantom. A glowing mask covered his head and face. Curling goat horns wrapped around the sides of the demon mask like deformed ears. The lower part of the face was the snout of a wild boar. Two glittering yellow fangs protruded from the corners of fluorescent grey lips. Under the elaborate costume, it was impossible to determine body mass or gender. The voice wasn’t human. A voice changer with effects was Sam’s guess.

  With a roar, he swung an axe against the inventory on a rack. Boxes collapsed under the assault. A jug spilled from a crushed box and fell with a clatter. It rolled down the aisle. A foot encased in a hoof-shaped shoe kicked it. The container smashed against the wall to their left and thick liquid dribbled out. The gooey substance reeked of chemicals.

  “It’s time for a reckoning, Samantha.” The head of the axe dragged on the cement floor like fingernails scratching a blackboard.

  As the laughter faded away from them, she dropped her hand from Lisa’s mouth and gripped her shoulders. Her friend’s mouth was slack and her eyes were glazed. In the faint light, her complexion was blotchy with spots of bright red standing stark on her pale face. Her body was frozen in place. Sam realized that Lisa had reached the edge of her cognitive load, a psychological “blue screen of death” that disabled her from moving. If she couldn’t snap Lisa out of this, she wouldn’t be able to run.