Bad Games: Hellbent - A Dark Psychological Thriller (Bad Games)

by Menapace, Jeff

  Kathy pointed. “Bingo.” She guided Kelly along the stone path.

  Kelly started preparing to act shocked and frightened. It was difficult, given how excited she was.

  ***

  Kathy Lennox entered first. She took a few steps into the room and did not make a sound. Only stared at Devon’s corpse.

  Kelly followed her and immediately screamed. It seemed like the thing to do.

  Kathy grabbed Kelly and pulled her into an embrace.

  “My God,” Kathy said. “My God….”

  An idea came to Kelly. Instead of playing frightened, she would pretend to gather her wits.

  “It has to be a joke, Miss Lennox,” she said, wiggling out of Kathy’s arms and approaching Devon’s body. “Devon,” she said, nudging his corpse with her toe. “Devon, it’s not funny.”

  Devon lay on display in the center of the room like a corpse in a coffin. Legs straight and together, arms folded across his bloody chest. A cell phone and photograph were in his hands.

  Kelly bent and plucked the photo from Devon’s hands. She frowned at the picture, acted confused. “What’s this?” she said, then, turning to Kathy and handing the photo over: “What is that?”

  Kelly felt Monica would have been proud of her “it has to be a joke” improv. It guaranteed Kathy Lennox staying put, receiving the photo firsthand without witnesses. Who’s to say Kathy wouldn’t have freaked, turned and ran at the sight of Devon without first getting a look at the photo? Ran into her party screaming? Ran and called the police?

  With Monica’s plan, those hazardous what ifs were a possibility. True, she had thought of the Devon thing on the spot; they had never planned on killing the boy. But still, shouldn’t those what ifs have occurred to her?

  With Kelly’s quick thinking, it was all but guaranteed that Kathy Lennox would stay put while Kelly inspected Devon, determined to foil the boys’ “ruse.” She would stay put until Devon ultimately did not respond. Until Kelly pretended to discover the picture. Look at it quizzically and with some alarm. Hand it over, gift-wrapped to Miss Lennox. Just the two of them, no witnesses.

  And it had all happened that way. Because of her. She was eager to tell Monica. Observe her reaction. Would it be pride? Proud that her student had done so well? Or would there be a flash of jealousy? Jealous that perhaps her student had done so well…despite her.

  Kelly wasn’t sure which one she preferred. The latter tickled her though.

  Kathy Lennox took the photo from Kelly and pulled it close to her face. She gasped and brought a hand to her mouth.

  Kelly squeezed the dime-shaped transmitter in her pocket.

  The cell phone in Devon’s dead hands started ringing.

  ***

  Kathy Lennox pulled the ringing cell from Devon’s dead hands. Her voice was unsteady but clear.

  “Hello?”

  “Hello, Miss Lennox.” A synthetic voice. Harsh and metallic. Sex-less.

  “Who is this?”

  “We have your son.”

  “Whatever you want,” she said.

  “Good. Because what we want is rather unusual. Are you paying attention?”

  “Yes.”

  “First, I should warn you about police involvement. We will not tolerate any.”

  “What? You killed my son’s friend. I have to let his parents know—”

  “We did kill him, yes. And it was a quick death. However, if you contact the police, Miss Lennox—and I assure you, we’ll know if you do—then Ben’s death will not be quick. He will die slowly and painfully. It will be filmed. And that film will be mailed to you. Do you understand?”

  Kathy cried out, slapped a hand over her mouth to stifle it, slowly took it away and managed a yes.

  “Good. Perhaps you can remember that in case you feel like interrupting again.”

  Kathy closed her eyes and nodded into the receiver. “I’m sorry.”

  “Second,” the voice said, “you’re going to call Domino Taylor and tell him what’s happened. You’re going to ask for his help. To come to your residence immediately. Please don’t waste my time or your son’s by pretending you don’t know who he is.”

  “I know who he is.”

  “Yes,” the voice said. “Apparently you two have a history—both professional and otherwise. Tabloids can be such a nuisance.”

  Kathy cleared her throat. “I haven’t heard from him in over a year. I don’t know—”

  “How many times have you looked into your son’s eyes, Miss Lennox?”

  “What?”

  “I wonder if we scooped them out and shipped them to you, you’d be able to tell if they were your baby boy’s? Or has being a big shot actress robbed you of too much quality time with Ben? Do you even know what color his eyes are? Tell me now or you’ll get them in the mail.”

  “Brown! They’re brown! My son’s eyes are brown!”

  “Hold on, let me check.” A pause. “Well done, Miss Lennox.”

  Kathy exhaled, closed her eyes and lifted a shaky hand to her forehead. “What do you want? Is it money?”

  “I’ve already told you what we wanted, Miss Lennox.”

  “I—you want Domino? You want him here? That’s it?”

  “For now, yes. Once he’s there—”

  “Why? What does Domino have to do with—?”

  “You really can’t help yourself, can you, Miss Lennox?” The voice drifted from the receiver, its echo now addressing someone close by: “Stick a nail down his urethra.”

  “OKAY! My God, okay…okay…” Kathy pressed a hand to her chest. “You want me to call Domino Taylor.”

  “Correct.”

  “You want me to ask him to come here now.”

  “Correct. First go back to the party. Tell everyone to leave; you’re not feeling well.”

  “And then?”

  “Then you call Domino. Given your history, he should have no problem dropping everything to accommodate you.”

  “Okay…I’ll call him now.”

  “Good. It would be nice to talk to Domino when we call back. Your son agrees.”

  Chapter 43

  Domino entered the room and saw the kids huddled in the corner, hiding something.

  “What are you two rascals doing over there?”

  Carrie turned and gave Domino a worried face. “Daddy’s ignoring us.”

  Caleb turned. “He won’t play with us.”

  Domino inched forward, his old friend fear tickling every nerve-ending. “What are you guys talking about?”

  The kids slid apart and pointed down.

  Patrick’s body. Gray and bloated and dead.

  Domino turning east and west to address both kids. Each of them gone now. The room changing, dissolving until it resembles the room in western Pennsylvania where Domino watched Patrick die.

  A sudden hand on Domino’s ankle, the grip strong with panic.

  Domino looking down at his friend—two bullet holes in his chest, blood gushing from his mouth.

  “Don’t let me die, Dom…please don’t let me die.”

  Domino dropping to his knees, putting pressure on the wounds. This makes things worse.

  Blood squirts from Patrick’s nose, his ears, his eyes. Still he pleads: “Don’t let me die…”

  Blood everywhere now. Patrick is only recognizable because Domino knows it’s him.

  “Please, Dom…”

  Domino jerked awake, his body soaked in sweat. He wanted to cry but couldn’t; something like bleach roiling in his chest and stomach was the substitute.

  He reached for his bottle of TUMS on the nightstand when his cell rang again. It was then that all things sleep-muddled began to settle and he realized his phone had been ringing the whole time; it was what woke him. Usually he resented such a thing. Now he was grateful. As the last of his sleep officially faded, he realized it was his personal cell ringing, not his public cell. Maybe five people in the world had this number.

  “Hello?”

  “Domi
no?”

  “Who is this?”

  “Kathy Lenno—Jane. It’s Kathy Jane.”

  Domino immediately sat up and wiped a hand down his sweaty face. “Kathy? What is it?”

  “I need your help.”

  “I’ve been on leave for over a year now, Kathy. If you need protection I can recommend—”

  “No, it’s not for that. It’s…” She started crying.

  Chapter 44

  Amy’s ringing cell flashed Domino’s name.

  “Your usual reservation, sir?” she answered. “Sofa for one?”

  Domino gave a humorless chuckle. “’Fraid not. I’ll be in The Hamptons this evening.”

  “What?”

  “You remember when you asked me if I’d ever gotten involved with a client before?”

  “Yeah. The actress, right?”

  “Right. I just get off the phone with her.”

  “Ooh la la…heading all the way to The Hamptons for a booty call. Gotta admire that.”

  Another humorless chuckle. “Nah, it’s not like that.”

  ***

  “This sounds strange to me, Domino,” Amy said. “Why would they ask specifically for you?”

  “Don’t know. I’ve pissed off a lot of people in my day. Could be any one of them, looking for some payback.”

  “But why kidnap this woman’s son? Why not just come right for you?”

  “Maybe they didn’t want to come at me head on. It’s kinda smart when you think about it. Head on, I fuck them up. Dig up some emotional collateral and I’ll behave.”

  “Emotional? I thought you slept together once?”

  “We did. But there was something there long before that.”

  “You were falling in love.”

  “Yeah.”

  “So what was the big deal then? Why the scandal?”

  “You don’t get familiar with a client, Amy. Some do—a lot do—but it’s wrong. It affects the job. That was the one and only time for me.”

  “Couldn’t she have hired someone else? Then you two could have kept seeing each other.”

  “Would have never worked. Ever notice how lots of actors fall for their co-stars?”

  “Are you saying you’d have been jealous?”

  “No. Actors fall for one another on the set because they’re constantly together. Only reason Kathy and I fell for each other was because I was her shadow.”

  “And once you decided you couldn’t be her shadow anymore, you knew your work schedules would make any time together seem like conjugal visits.”

  Domino chuckled genuinely this time. “Something like that.”

  “So then what are you supposed to do when you get there?”

  “Don’t know. All she told me was to get there as soon as I could, and that the sons of bitches would be calling—looking to talk to me.”

  “I don’t like this. I don’t like it.”

  “You told me I should think about going back to work.”

  “Uh, I’d say this is a little different, Domino.”

  A pause. Amy eventually said, “This feels like an opportunity for redemption to you, doesn’t it?”

  Another pause. Then Domino said, “Maybe it does.”

  “You think doing this—saving the boy—will put you at peace with what happened to Patrick?”

  A long pause.

  “Domino?”

  “What do you want me to say, Amy? I can’t say no to this. Damn it, girl, I thought you’d be more understanding.”

  “If it were a job? Yes. This? This is something different. You’re going in blind. You have absolutely no idea who these people are or what they’re capable of.”

  “I never do. You think when I sign on with a new client, they hand me the resume of the nut that’s gunning for them?”

  “Don’t make stupid jokes. You know what the hell I mean.”

  “A friend needs me. When you and Patrick needed me, I was there, wasn’t I?”

  Amy gave a long sigh. “Yes.”

  “I gotta do this, girl. Maybe loyalty to a friend isn’t the only reason why. Maybe you’re right about redemption and finding peace with what happened to Patrick. It doesn’t matter; motives are irrelevant now. It’s a job. I’m doing it.”

  “Will you call me as soon as it’s done?”

  “You know I will. Give Caleb and Carrie a kiss. Pizza and a movie on me when I get back.”

  “Just get back; that’s all I want.”

  “Deal. I’ll be calling soon. Take care, sweetheart.”

  “You too.”

  Domino hung up.

  Amy sat at her kitchen table for a long time and stared at nothing.

  Chapter 45

  Kathy Lennox sat at her kitchen table with a cup of tea. She’d hung up with Domino a half hour ago. He’d told her he would leave immediately, that he was leaving from Philadelphia, and that if he gunned it, he could be in The Hamptons in about four hours.

  The last of the guests had filed out an hour ago, staff she’d hired for the party not long after that. The only remaining people in the house were Kathy, Kelly…and Devon.

  Kathy had told Domino about Devon, about the warning of police involvement, and asked just what the hell she was supposed to do with a dead teenager in her guest house for who knows how long. Domino had told her to drape a sheet over the boy’s body and leave the place undisturbed until he got there. Kathy had done so, but focused only on the boy’s shoes the entire time. She could not look him in the face.

  Now, sipping her tea and waiting for Domino, Kathy refused to yield to the horrific possibilities ahead. Domino would help. He always helped. He would bring Ben back to her. The incident would soon be a bad memory. Domino would take care of everything.

  Domino.

  A cynical thought snuck its way in.

  Why Domino?

  The kidnappers had said no police. Domino was not police. And so if these kidnappers were as learned and prepared as they seemed to be, then they would know strong odds existed on Kathy contacting Domino without provocation.

  Except there had been provocation.

  The kidnappers insisted she call Domino. It was one of their demands. Why?

  Domino was the archetypical nightmare for bad guys. Kathy remembered a charity function where a group of three men had somehow gained entrance to the event and attacked her in the ladies’ room. Delusional fans who felt spurned by the lack of reciprocation Kathy Lennox had given their numerous letters of love and devotion.

  As if on cue from a film she might have starred in herself, Domino had burst into the ladies’ room just as the first of three men had gone for her. Kathy remembered a frenzied blur. She then remembered seeing all three men on the ground, two unconscious, one moaning, cradling an arm bent in a way it was never meant to bend.

  And of course she’d heard of similar stories from her peers in the business. Hell, everywhere. Domino had once protected Hilary Clinton from a radical, keen on putting a bullet in her during a public function.

  Domino had spotted the man in the crowd the moment the rally had begun. Before the fledgling assassin knew it, a shadow had engulfed him from behind. He was soon cheek to concrete, a heavy knee in the center of his back while not one, but two guns were found and confiscated.

  When Kathy had asked Domino about the incident, he’d shrugged it off, but when Kathy pressed, he eventually said the guy stood out because he never moved his arms. When people are excited, they move their arms. Those who are trying not to be noticed do not. They feel the less movement, the less attention they draw to themselves. Domino shrugged again and added that the opposite was true; in a crowd, it makes them stand out the most—like the guy in the bleachers who remains seated while those around him do the wave. After that, it was just a matter of observation. And it had taken Domino all of a minute before he’d observed enough and started his approach.

  Why on Earth would anyone want a man like that involved in the kidnapping of her son?

  “Miss Len
nox?”

  Kathy snapped to and found Erin standing by the kitchen entrance. She looked scared.

  “Yes, sweetheart, what is it?”

  In a sheepish voice: “Can I go? I’m kinda freaked out.”

  Kathy felt for the girl. She also questioned if it was wise for her to venture out alone. The kidnappers had claimed to have eyes everywhere.

  “Of course, sweetheart. But why don’t I call you a car? It’ll come right up to the house—door to door.”

  “I’ve got a car,” Erin said.

  “Honey, I think it might be safer if we called someone to come get you. I don’t like the idea of you walking out to your car alone.”

  “It’s not far. I just…I want to go home.”

  Kathy nodded. “Okay. Will you call me the second you get in?”

  “Yes.” She walked towards the kitchen table, leaned in and gave Kathy a hug. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

  Kathy hugged back, pulled away and said, “The second you get home?”

  Erin nodded. “I promise.”

  Erin turned and left. Kathy sipped her tea and resumed the excruciating wait for Domino.

  ***

  Kelly met Monica fifty yards from Kelly Lennox’s house, on a side road, where Monica had said she’d be. She was standing by the trunk of her Lexus.

  “All good?” Monica asked.

  “All good.”

  “I gotta say; I’m a little impressed. Well done, kid.”

  Kelly thought about mentioning her improv in the guest house. That things may not have been “all good” if it wasn’t for this “kid’s” quick thinking.

  She decided against it, and smiled instead.

  Monica popped the trunk. Kelly peered inside.

  Ben, gagged and bound, stared up with frightened eyes. When his eyes settled on Kelly, he frowned and mumbled something into his gag. The upward inflection at the end of his gibberish implied a question.

  “Sorry, loverboy,” Kelly said. “For what it’s worth, you were tolerable.”