Mind Games (Games Thriller Series)

by J. E. Taylor

  “Are you okay?”

  She nodded. “I will be. Thank you.”

  “Don’t thank me, thank him,” Eric said. “He came to me tonight because he didn’t feel like things were okay.”

  She shook her head a little and looked at him. “His real name isn’t Chris, is it?”

  Eric looked away.

  She turned his face back to her. “His real name is Ty, isn’t it?”

  Eric said nothing as he looked into his sister’s eyes. “Ty had a scar on his face.”

  She considered what her mother had done to her. If she could make cancer go away, she could make a scar disappear. “Maybe he didn’t even have a brother,” she said aloud.

  “He had a brother,” Eric whispered. “I saw him die,” he added.

  Emily stared at him, waiting for some sort of explanation and when he offered none, she asked, “How?”

  Eric shrugged. “The same way he can see us. I saw more of what happened to mom than I wanted to.”

  Emily threaded her hand in his and gave it a squeeze.

  Eric shook his head like he was shaking away a nightmare. “His name is Chris.”

  “Level with me.”

  “You have to promise me you won’t tell Mom.”

  “He hurt her, Eric.” Emily said, remembering some of the stories she had heard.

  “He saved her,” Eric defended. “And he saved you.”

  Emily’s mouth dropped. “What are you talking about?”

  “I fixed Ty. I wasn’t sure I could, he was so much worse than Mom had been, but I had all of Mom’s power, too.” Eric paused and took a deep breath. “He was lucky ’cause if it had taken any longer to convince Dad that I was fine, Ty would have died. I gave him everything I had and it not only fixed the bullet holes, it got rid of all his scars. That’s why I couldn’t fix you when I tried. I gave it all to him.”

  “You still haven’t told me how he saved me,” Emily replied.

  “He knew you were sick. He found Mom and gave her the power back.”

  Silence filtered between them.

  “What did he want to talk to you about?” Eric asked.

  “The ghost.”

  Eric looked at her and when she avoided his eyes, he knew. “He hurt you?”

  Emily nodded and the wall holding the tears back crumbled. Eric’s arms encircled her, squeezing her to him and the words he whispered pulled a sob from her chest.

  “Ty will make sure he doesn’t hurt you again.”

  For the first time since that ghostly devil assaulted her, she felt a true spark of hope.

  “You mind if I sleep in here for the rest of the night?” she asked when her tears dried.

  “Not at all,” Eric said and they curled up on the bed, their backs touching, giving her a small sense of security, but it was a long time before she drifted back to sleep.

  Chapter 45

  The morning rolled around faster than any of them wanted and while Tom woke the kids, Jessica stepped into the bathroom toward the shower.

  She turned at the sound of a throat clearing.

  Chris’s eyes scanned her naked form and quickly shot away. “We need to talk, Jess.”

  Jessica grabbed the towel and covered herself. “Not now, Ty,” she said, annoyed at his timing.

  “Yes, now,” he insisted. “Frank has been there.”

  “How do you know?” None of the mirrors in the bedroom were broken.

  “Let’s just say I know.” Chris masked his thoughts so she couldn’t read them. “You need to come home.”

  “I am home.”

  “Then I need to come there.”

  “No. You have to let it go, let me go.”

  “Jess, I can’t.”

  “You have no choice. Goodbye.” Jessica turned and let the towel drop. She stepped into the shower without looking back.

  Chapter 46

  Chris watched in frustration and then walked out of his bathroom three thousand miles away from her. He looked at the mid-morning Manhattan skyline.

  “What do I do now?” he asked the skyscrapers. “What the hell do I do?”

  He paced back and forth restlessly. He couldn’t let Frank touch Emily again, he was certain of that, but he didn’t know how he was going to stop this madness if Jessica didn’t come home. He knew what had to be done, whether he wanted to or not but the standoff with Frank needed to be in Maine and not California.

  Chris pulled on his coat, grabbed his camera, and headed out. He walked across the street into Central Park and wandered aimlessly through the walking paths, his mind preoccupied with Jessica and how to get her back on the East Coast. The click of a gun hammer caught his attention and he stopped. Slowly turning, he looked down the barrel of a mugger’s 38 Special.

  “Give me your wallet,” a strung out junkie demanded.

  Chris let out a stifled laugh. “I don’t think so.”

  The mugger stepped back and lowered the gun a little, taken aback by the response. He recovered quickly, pointing the gun back at him. “I’ll shoot.”

  Chris tilted his head a little to the right and narrowed his eyes. “Really?”

  “Give me the goddamn money!”

  “No. Give me yours.” He smoothly transitioned into Ty, fearless and a little psychotic.

  The mugger took another step back. “You’re fucking crazy!”

  Chris smiled. “You have no idea.” He took a step toward the mugger and then lifted his hand to his head, his index finger pointing like the barrel of a gun.

  The mugger followed suit, his eyes popping in their sockets and perspiration broke out across his forehead. A stain slowly spread on the kid’s pants and the distinct stench of urine filled the air.

  “Bang,” he said and laughed, but he didn’t squeeze the imaginary trigger, instead he willed him to slowly release the hammer and flip the safety on. When he relinquished physical control over the mugger, the kid bolted away as fast as a cartoon exit.

  That was fun.

  Chris chuckled and continued his meander through the park. He walked across the bridge by the pond and looked over at the Plaza Hotel, stopping to lean on the wall. He lifted his Nikon to take a shot of the hotel and froze with the camera midway to his face.

  Blinking, he turned back the way he came and what just occurred dawned on him. “Damn.” He could’ve just as easily made that kid pull the trigger like Jessica had.

  He continued his meandering south through the city, taking pictures in the Village, Little Italy and Chinatown of whatever struck his fancy before hopping on a subway back to the Upper West Side and his apartment.

  Chris walked into his dark room and set the process of developing the pictures in motion.

  After hanging the negatives to dry, he left the dark room and flopped on the couch, restlessly flipping through the channels until he finally threw the remote on the table in disgust.

  His mind wandered back to the junkie. He forgot what a rush it was to scare the daylights out of someone; it had been so long.

  “Imagine what kind of trouble I could find after dark.”

  The idea thrilled him and a slow smile spread over his face.

  “What the hell.”

  Chapter 47

  Chris dozed off on the couch, waiting for darkness to fall on the city. Another dream took hold, but this was different and disturbing. Crossing through her bedroom, he carried her limp and bloody body in his arms, tears blurred his vision and harsh gasps tore from his lungs.

  He sat up straight when he heard his name, blinking and looking around in confusion. The nightmare remained clear in his head.

  “Jesus.” He wiped his face and headed into the bathroom, looking curiously at the mirror. “Jess?”

  She appeared in the mirror clearly upset.

  “What’s wrong?” Chris asked, his eyes darting from corner to corner.

  “It’s not Frank.”

  “Then what is it?” He was more than a little confused, especially since her hair partially
hid her eyes.

  “I needed a friend.”

  Chris stepped back in surprise, raising his eyebrows and pointing to his chest. “Me?”

  Jessica nodded, meeting his gaze with teary eyes.

  “Okay. What happened?”

  “Tom and I got into a fight.”

  Chris glanced down at his sink. “I’m sorry.”

  “It had nothing to do with you. It’s not always about you,” she snapped.

  “Oh,” he said sheepishly. “Then what was the fight about?” he asked after a few moments of silence.

  “He was pushing me to let the kids audition for some show that the director is producing.”

  “That’s insane.” Chris had as much distaste for the Hollywood scene as she did, especially since he moonlighted as a special effects artist a lifetime ago.

  “I told him it wasn’t the life that I wanted for the kids and he asked if it was the life I wanted and before I could stop it from coming out, I said no.”

  “That had to hurt.”

  Jessica nodded. “He didn’t want me to watch the next scene.” Her eyes filled with tears. “I was just so angry, it slipped out.”

  “Ah Jess, what is it that you do want?”

  “I hate L.A,” she whispered. “I hate his house.”

  “It certainly isn’t you.”

  Jessica’s brow crunched. “How do you know?” She wiped the tears from her face.

  “I had a little talk with Eric last night.” He masked his thoughts; she was in no condition to hear the rest of what happened.

  “Why?”

  “I thought something was wrong. I told you this morning I thought Frank was there, but I couldn’t locate you, so I did the next best thing. I woke Eric up to check on you.” He shrugged. “Guess it was a false alarm. You could have just been having a nightmare.”

  Jessica looked at him thoughtfully. “I want to go back to my house in Maine. At least I have friends and family there,” she said. “Coming out here every once in a while is okay, but I’ve only been here two days and I am already homesick.”

  “I can’t give you any advice Jess,” Chris said. “I’m an East Coast boy myself. Besides, you already know how I feel. I can’t exactly be neutral on this one.”

  Jessica nodded. “At least the kids are with us this time.”

  “You’ve got a couple of great kids there.”

  “They are, aren’t they?” She laughed a little. “Tom taught Eric to surf yesterday and he did so well and you also should have seen them today—they were great on camera.”

  Chris tilted his head. “Pardon?”

  “Tom got them walk-on parts today. And they were better than some of the professionals.”

  “Surprised you let them do that.”

  “I thought it was a one-time thing, but I’m not so sure after the conversation I had with Tom. I think he planned it with the director. I should have seen it coming.”

  “You can’t see everything coming,” Chris replied. “Don’t beat yourself up. He will come around, if not,” he paused with a shrug, “I’m always here for you.”

  “Thanks Chris,” she said. “I’m going to venture out.”

  “One more thing,” Chris said before she left.

  “Yes?”

  “Be careful. I think Frank knows where you are.”

  “I’ll be careful. If not, you’ll hear me screaming,”

  Chris shivered and goose bumps appeared on his arms. The bumps under his cast chaffed and her final words echoed in his ears. He hoped like hell he wouldn’t hear her scream any time soon.

  He looked thoughtfully at his reflection and closed his eyes for a moment. “She needed me,” he said aloud and slowly grinned.

  Chapter 48

  Jessica ventured out of the dressing room, and quietly joined her kids in the shadows as they watched the next scene.

  “Cut!” The director walked over and pulled Tom aside.

  “He’s having a hard time with this scene,” Emily whispered to her mother. “This is the tenth take.”

  Jessica closed her eyes and took a deep breath. This was her fault. When she opened her eyes, he was striding toward her, leaving the director looking after him in disgust in the middle of the set.

  Tom grabbed Jessica by the arm and pulled her back to the dressing room, his face a mask of aggravation. He slammed the door behind him, leaving the entire cast and crew in stunned silence.

  “I don’t want you watching,” he snapped. “I don’t want you here!”

  “You don’t mean that.” Jessica tried to diffuse his anger.

  Tom grabbed her by the shoulders. “You don’t want to be here,” he said through clenched teeth, “then I don’t want you here either.”

  “Tom, I never said I didn’t want to be with you.”

  “You said you didn’t want this kind of life.”

  She hesitated for a moment. “I never wanted to be in the spotlight and I don’t want my kids there either,” she replied, feeling the bite of anger again. “You of all people should know that.” She yanked herself from his grip and walked to the back of the room, leaning on the counter and looking at him in the mirror.

  “Goddamnit,” he swore and took a step toward her. “Jess, the spotlight hasn’t changed who I am.”

  “There’s no privacy here. I don’t want people poking around in our past, or our present for that matter.”

  “What do you want me to do?”

  “When this show is over, I want to go back east, permanently. With you. I don’t want to raise a child out here. I know I said I wanted to stay out here with you, but I can’t stay here. It’s too...” she struggled for the words, “plastic.”

  Tom laughed.

  “Don’t laugh at me,” Jessica warned. “It’s too fake out here. There is no sincerity. Everything seems shiny and clean, like your house, but it’s really just empty and cold.”

  His eyebrows arched. “You think my house is empty and cold?”

  “Yes.”

  “It’s classy.”

  “No Tom, it’s beautiful but it is cold. There is no character in that house.”

  “So you’re saying my dead wife had no character?”

  “She may have had character, but she didn’t decorate the house with it.”

  He clenched his fists and glared at her. When she turned to face him, he stormed to her, towering over her. “You are not the best judge of character, Jess.” He glared with his fists still clenched.

  She went to push him away from her and he grabbed her wrists and pinned them to the mirror, leaning her back painfully against the counter as he came within inches of her face.

  “Tom, you’re hurting me.”

  “Maybe you like that.”

  Jessica’s eyes narrowed. “Let me go.”

  “Or what?”

  Jessica said nothing at first. “Let go,” she repeated and clenched her teeth.

  “No.”

  Jessica brought her knee up into his groin, hard enough to shock him, but not hard enough to do real damage.

  He let her hands go and stumbled back a step leaning over in pain. He looked up at her in shock. “What the hell did you do that for?”

  “You didn’t let go.”

  “But…” he began and took a step toward her.

  “Do you want me to drop kick you?”

  He stepped back, grabbing the chair and sliding it under him. “Jess,” he said as he leaned his forehead on his hand, shaking his head slowly back and forth.

  “What.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “You’d better never do that to me again, or I’m gone.”

  He closed his eyes and leaned his head back. “What’s happening to us?”

  Tears blurred her vision and she trembled, his question lighting doubt—doubt that they’d be able to get through anything, doubt that their marriage was strong enough to endure.

  He slowly stood and limped over to her, taking her in his arms. “I’m sorry.” He he
ld her and stroked her hair. “I love you, Jess.”

  She nodded into his chest, swallowing the sobs.

  He pulled her away from his chest. “Are we okay?”

  “Yes.” She looked up into his blue eyes. “You’re going to need them to fix your makeup.” She pointed to the smeared face paint on his forehead.

  He glanced at his reflection and uttered a laugh. “You want to watch the scene we were trying to do?”

  She nodded.

  They walked out together, feeling all the eyes in the studio looking in their direction. Jessica blushed at the unwanted attention. He kissed her on the cheek and headed off to get his make-up fixed for the scene.

  * * * *

  “Thanks for coming today,” Tom said as they slid into the car.

  “You guys were great.” Jessica looked back at the kids.

  “I never knew so much went into making a show,” Eric marveled.

  Tom’s phone rang and he dug it out of his pocket while driving. He flipped it open. “Hi, Harry.”

  “Did you get a chance to read the script?”

  “I’m going to do it.” Tom glanced over at Jessica.

  “That’s terrific! They want to meet you in New York next week. They plan on flying to the complex for a walk through on Monday and then they want you running lines for auditions to fill the spot of Jessica on Tuesday back in the city.”

  “But, I still have obligations with the show.”

  “I’ll take care of that. You can take the red-eye on Tuesday. They can shoot your scenes later in the week. I already made the arrangements.”

  Tom glanced at Jessica, knowing that it meant really long days and he wouldn’t be able to spend any time with her at the end of next week. “Tell them I want a room at the Plaza starting Sunday night.”

  “Will do. I’ll arrange for a flight out of Boston on Sunday,” Harry said.

  “Make it two tickets.”

  “Consider it done.”

  Tom flipped the phone closed. “How does a couple of days in New York City sound to you?”