“I don’t know.” Caleb put the bat on the bed, bent and retrieved his shoes and put them back on. Carrie immediately followed suit and did the same.
Finished, Caleb picked the bat up off the bed and held it over his shoulder.
“We have to get past him,” he said, gesturing to the unconscious man blocking the doorway.
“What if he wakes up?” Carrie asked.
“Then I’ll hit him again.”
Caleb quickly stepped over the unconscious man and into the hallway. He turned back to his sister and waved her on. “Come on,” he whispered.
Carrie hesitated. She looked down at the man as if he were a decaying bridge she had to cross, fearing it would give out on her.
Caleb waved her on again. “Come on!” he whispered louder. “Don’t look at him, just come on.”
Carrie took a step forward, her left foot coming down beside the man’s knee, her right beside his waist. The bridge was sturdy thus far, yet she broke the cardinal rule and looked down all the same.
The man’s eyes were open.
She screamed.
The man reached up and snatched hold of her wrist, yanking her down with one convulsive jerk. Carrie fell on top of him, screeching wildly as she struggled to pull away.
She did not have to wait long.
Caleb brought the baseball bat down onto the man’s head once again. The man instantly released his grip on Carrie and brought a feeble hand up to defend himself from the blind assault behind him.
On all fours, Carrie scurried back into the bedroom and pressed herself up against the furthest wall. Panting and wild-eyed, she watched her little brother bring the bat down again and again, each blow gaining further momentum and impact, the man long since unconscious once more, his legs now doing what Carrie thought to be such an odd thing for an unconscious man to do as they juddered and convulsed rapidly, reminding her of some robot short-circuiting, trying to run even though it lay flat on its back.
It was Irene who stopped Caleb’s assault. She came up behind the boy, waited for one of Caleb’s swings to clear so she would not catch an inadvertent wallop, and wrapped both arms around him, pinning them at his sides.
Caleb went berserk. He screamed and yelled and fought Irene’s hold on him, but it was not long before her soothing words in that familiar Irish brogue penetrated his fury and assured him he could stop.
Caleb dropped the bat, turned in to her, and started to cry.
Carrie slowly emerged from the bedroom. She ran to Irene and Caleb, and Irene opened her arms, allowing Carrie to join their huddle. Carrie began to cry too.
The three of them stood there in the hallway for a moment, locked in an embrace, brother and sister sobbing, Irene (now sporting a sizable egg on the right side of her brow) constantly repeating words of comfort as she rubbed their backs and ran alternating hands through their hair.
When the cell phone in the dead man’s pocket rang, all crying, all nurturing, all everything but the ring of the cell phone stopped.
Chapter 44
“You want me to do what?” Amy said to Kelly even though she’d heard perfectly well.
“I want you to call your kids and say goodnight,” Kelly said. “Here’s the rub, though: You’re gonna have to play it supercool. No tears, no weird behavior or warnings, just tell ’em you love them and all that crap and that you’ll see them in the morning—which of course you won’t.”
“Why?”
“Because you’ll be dead, dummy.”
Amy gritted her teeth. “No—why the stupid charade with making me call my kids?”
“Honestly? It sounds fun. How’s that? Nothing profound. I think it would be fun to watch you call your children and pretend to say goodnight when really you’re saying goodbye.” She smiled. “Fun, fun, fun.”
“Why don’t you just kill me?” Amy asked. “You’ve got me; you won. Monica never came this close.”
“I am going to kill you.”
“No, me. Me. Just me.” She then flicked her chin towards Allan and the Rogerses. “Why all the bullshit with them? With the Rolstons?”
“Well, it’s gotta look like a killing spree, doesn’t it? The Rolstons just seal the deal. That and they were the nearest help. That’s called planning ahead, sister.” She tapped her index finger against her temple and winked.
“Killing spree?” Amy said.
“I couldn’t just kill you straight out, Amy. Well, I could, but with my ties to Monica? I’d be brought in for questioning. That stuff takes forever. So annoying.”
“So then what? You stage a killing spree for two houses, and Amy Lambert just happened to be in one of them? Those are crazy odds, Kelly. You’d still be questioned.”
“Very true. Unless I’m looking at the spree killer right now.”
“What?”
Kelly smiled. “What, you think today’s date escaped me? I’m thinking that on the five-year anniversary of the Crescent Lake Massacre, Amy Lambert finally snapped. What do you think?”
“I think you’re fucking crazier than I thought. Good luck proving such a thing.”
Kelly gave a little shrug. “Everyone tied up and dead? The only one who is not happens to be sprawled out on the floor with a single gunshot wound to the head, the weapon in her hand in what looks to be an obvious suicide?” Kelly lit another cigarette. “That’ll be you, by the way.”
Jennifer laughed.
“What about your buddy Tim? You said he’s at Irene’s house right now with my kids. That’s one hell of a loose end.”
“Not if he does as he was told. He’s simply going to pretend to be a friend of yours from group who graciously offered the use of his phone because you couldn’t get through to Irene. He’ll explain that you were going to be staying late and you wanted to say goodnight to your kids. It’s not brain surgery.”
“Irene will never buy it. She’s too cagey. Tim’s a twitchy junkie who couldn’t sell water to a guy on fire.”
“You better hope she buys it. Lord knows what a ‘twitchy junkie’ like Tim would do if Irene puts up a fight.”
Amy chuckled dryly. “This is going to be your downfall, Kelly. You’re reaching too far. This ‘fun’ game of yours with me calling my kids has too many moving parts. If you were smart, you’d kill me quick and be gone.” She chuckled again. “It’s going to blow up right in your fucking face.”
“You think so, huh?” Kelly stuck her cigarette in her mouth and pulled out her cell phone. She spoke as she dialed, cigarette bouncing between her lips with each word. “Why don’t we just call and see?”
Finished dialing, Kelly put the phone on speaker and held it to Amy’s mouth. She then took a final deep drag of her cigarette and let the smoke filter out with her words as she said: “I’d make it convincing if I was you.” She exhaled the last of her smoke in Amy’s face and grinned. “Showtime, baby.”
Chapter 45
The phone continued to ring in the dead man’s pocket.
“Get back,” Irene Flannigan said to Carrie and Caleb.
She approached the man as cautiously as she would have if he were still alive. And she supposed it was possible he could be. His head was a bloodied, dented mess, and he’d been convulsing dramatically when she’d come up behind Caleb and stopped his assault, but she’d heard stories of men and women walking away from car wrecks, only to die hours later from extensive injuries.
But those had been internal injuries, hadn’t they? This man’s head…
Still, she could not be too careful. Thoughts of his gruesome face springing to life as she rifled through his pockets were constant. She eventually averted her eyes from his face, keeping her focus on the chirping phone buried somewhere in one of his many pockets.
“Gotcha,” she soon whispered and pulled the cell free.
It was a flip phone, nothing of the increasingly popular smart phone variety. The message flashing on the small square of the phone’s front read that it was a restricted number.
I
rene flipped the phone open and held it to her ear for a moment before saying anything. She could hear very little on the other end.
And then a voice she recognized instantly.
“Hello?” Amy said.
“Amy?”
“Irene?”
“Yes, it’s me, love. Are you all right? I don’t even know where to begin—”
“Listen, Irene, I can’t talk long. The meeting is about to start again, and I’m going to be running late. Uh, I guess if we’re talking, that means my friend got there okay and you’re using his phone, yeah?”
Irene glanced over at the dead man. What Amy was saying was impossible. Friend? A man who attempted to kill her children? No chance in hell. Something was very wrong. Instinct told her to play along.
“Yes, that’s right, love. He’s in the kitchen now with Carrie. She’s making the poor lad draw her a unicorn.”
A pause.
Then: “Is she? How did the unicorn turn out?” Amy asked.
“Well, I think it turned out rather well. I’m not sure your friend would be inclined to agree.”
Another pause. Then sounds of a slight disturbance on the other end followed by two identical phrases from another woman’s voice spoken back to back, one echoing in the background, the second blaring directly into the phone.
In the background: “What the fuck is going on?” Into the phone: “What the fuck is going on?!”
Chapter 46
Kelly held the phone up to Amy’s mouth. It rang several times before it was answered. The recipient did not say hello. For a moment, Amy thought they’d been disconnected.
“Hello?” Amy said.
“Amy?” It was Irene.
“Irene?”
“Yes, it’s me, love. Are you all right? I—”
Just get it done. Play her stupid game and wow the audience with your performance.
Just saying goodnight, kids. Mommy won’t be home until late. I love you both very much.
Pretend to fight back tears. Pretend it’s killing you. Play her stupid fucking game. It’s not over yet. You’re gonna kill this little bitch slow. Somehow, some way, you’re gonna kill her slow.
“Listen, Irene, I can’t talk long. The meeting is about to start again, and I’m going to be running late. Uh, I guess if we’re talking, that means my friend got there okay and you’re using his phone, yeah?”
Is that what it meant? Amy wondered. Did Twitchy Tim actually talk his way into Irene’s home without bother? Amy would have wagered everything against such a result. There was more going on here than she knew. There had to be.
“Yes, that’s right, love,” Irene replied. “He’s in the kitchen now with Carrie. She’s making the poor lad draw her a unicorn.”
Unicorn.
It registered almost instantly.
“Is she?” Amy said. “How did the unicorn turn out?”
“Well, I think it turned out rather well,” Irene replied. “I’m not sure your friend would be inclined to agree.”
Amy was not aware of any changes in her face, but clearly something new was there. The subtlest of smirks, most likely. She sure as hell felt like smirking.
Whatever it was, Kelly saw it. She straightened up and kicked Amy’s chair. “What the fuck is going on?”
Amy said nothing.
Kelly brought the phone to her mouth. “What the fuck is going on?!”
“Excuse me?” Irene’s voice was stern through the speaker phone.
“Where the hell is Tim?”
“Was that his name?” Irene said. “He never gave it.”
Amy succumbed to the smirk.
“Listen to me, you old Irish cunt—”
“No—you listen to me. Let Amy go, whoever you are, or—”
“Or what? What possible leverage do you have over me, lady?” Kelly pulled her gun and jammed the barrel into Amy’s forehead. “Do you know I’m holding a gun to Amy’s head right now?”
“Amy?” Irene called from the phone’s speaker. “Amy, can you hear me?”
“I hear you, Irene,” Amy responded, wincing as the barrel dug into her brow.
“Yes, she hears you,” Kelly said, digging the barrel in harder. “Big fucking deal. I hope you’re smart enough to know that if you call for help, she’s dead, lady. I don’t care if the police kick down the fucking door, it’s more than enough time for me to put a bullet in her head. Are we clear?”
Silence.
“Are we clear?”
“Yes,” Irene finally replied.
“Good. When I have things arranged on my end, I will let Amy go unharmed, and you will get a call from me as to where you can collect her. But until then, you do not call anyone, and you fucking stay put. Take a good look at Carrie and Caleb there…” A deliberate pause. “Do you really want to explain to them how you got their mother killed because you couldn’t follow simple directions?”
“No…no, of course not.” Kelly’s last comment sapped the assertiveness from Irene’s voice. She sounded meek now.
Kelly lowered the gun. “I hope so.”
“What do you—?”
Kelly hung up.
“Told you,” Amy said. “You reached too far, Kelly. Bit off more than you can chew. Eyes were bigger than your stomach.” She looked up. “Wait, I think I’ve got one more…” She then nodded once emphatically and added: “Flew too close to the sun.”
“Amy,” Allan said.
“No, it’s okay, Allan,” Kelly said. “She’s being funny. It’s funny.”
Kelly walked over and stood in front of Allan. “You have kids, right, Allan? Of course you do. I was all over your upstairs. I saw their bedrooms. Where are they tonight?”
Allan didn’t reply.
“At a friend’s house?” She then shook her head. “No, it’s a school night. For that we would need someone like a relative, yes?”
Allan’s eyes twitched.
Kelly’s sparkled. “That’s it, isn’t it? A relative. But who?”
Kelly wandered into the kitchen and stopped at the refrigerator. Everyone in the den looked on, the kitchen a mere few feet from their captive spots.
Kelly began slowly circling her index finger over the ornaments stuck to the fridge. “It really is amazing what a refrigerator can tell you about a family,” she said dreamily, eyes never leaving her search on the fridge.
Her wandering finger stopped on something. “‘Dad and His Deejays,’” she said, touching the magnet. “Very cute.” Her finger continued exploring. Stopped on something else. “‘Aunt Kat and Her Kittens,’” she said, plucking the magnet from the fridge with one hand and removing the traffic violation beneath with the other. She read the violation and turned to Allan. “‘Disregard for Stop Sign’? I do hope the ‘Deejays’ weren’t with you at the time, Allan. Maybe they were with Aunt Kat? Being ‘kittens’ that day?”
Kelly wandered back into the den and whispered something to Jennifer. Jennifer disappeared, returned with a roll of duct tape. Began taping everyone’s mouth shut.
Kelly produced Allan’s phone, showed it to everyone first—nothing up my sleeve!—and then began flipping through its contents, all the while muttering: “K, K, K, K, K—ah! ‘Kat.’” She turned her head towards Allan and smirked. “Aunt Kat, I presume.”
She hit the number and brought the phone to her ear, waiting with a pleasant calm, casually checking a fingernail and frowning at it before nibbling away the imperfection and spitting it at Allan.
Someone answered.
“No, it’s not Allan, Kat,” Kelly said. “I’m a friend of Allan’s. I help run the support group with him… Right… He’s tied up with a few guests at the moment, and he asked me to call and see if Aunt Kat wouldn’t mind bringing her Kittens back to Dad. Turns out he had a pretty rough session tonight and he’s missing his Deejays.” She winked at Allan.
Allan went insane. He fought his binds until his chair fell over. Kelly squatted next to him in his upturned chair and stroked his brow as sh
e continued her conversation.
“Uh huh…what’s that? You did? Well, that’s weird. Oh well, you’ve got us now.” She chuckled affectionately at something Kat said and then replied: “You sure you don’t mind? Great. See you soon.” She hung up, tapped Allan on the head, and pointed at Amy. “Blame her,” she said.
Kelly then got into Amy’s face. “Got any more jokes, Amy? How about the one with the girl who got a widower’s sister and kids killed for no good reason other than being a smartass?”
Chapter 47
Kat hung up. “Guess who that was?”
Both girls said “Who?” simultaneously.
“That was your daddy. Actually, a friend of your daddy’s. He says he misses you guys and wants you to come home. Is that okay?”
Both girls nodded and smiled.
Kat smiled back. “Well, then get your stuff and let’s get going, Kittens.”
Chapter 48
Kelly handed Allan’s machete to Jennifer, turned back, and faced the group.
“We’re going to be having some new members joining our group soon,” Kelly said. “So we’ll need to make room.”
She began walking down the line of chairs, stopping before each captive to address them personally. “Amy? Since it was your wit that prompted me to invite our new guests, you can stay.”
Amy tried yelling something through the duct tape over her mouth. Kelly smiled, patted her head, and casually moved down the line to Allan, whom Jennifer had since sat back upright in his chair.
“Allan? Since our new guests know you so well and will likely feel more comfortable in your company, you can stay too.”
Allan too attempted to yell something through his tape.
Kelly shook her head, pursed her lips, and gave a silly little frown. She glanced back at Jennifer. “You think they’d be grateful.”
A laughing, grinning machine not thirty minutes ago, Jennifer now accommodated Kelly’s wit with a pained smile. She was sweating. Her complexion was growing paler by the minute.
Bad Games: Malevolent Page 16
