Deadly Game

by D. S. Butler

  Benny was more important than any stupid game.

  This whole thing had been about Rob hustling together some money to pay the rent on their flat, and now Rob couldn’t even go back there.

  This game had ruined his life.

  “Are you telling me I can’t even go back to my own flat?”

  Marlo smirked. “What’s the big deal? You were going to get chucked out anyway. You can just move somewhere else.”

  That had been the final straw. He turned around and stalked out of the basement flat, determined not to come back.

  He’d been looking for Benny for the past hour, checking at all Benny’s favourite places, but he was nowhere to be found. He even slipped back and stood outside their block of flats. He didn’t dare go inside, but he could see the windows to the sitting room and Benny’s bedroom from where he stood on the pavement.

  There were no lights on. That wasn’t a good sign. Benny hated the dark and insisted his nightlight was left on all night.

  So where was he?

  Wherever he was, Rob knew he would be scared.

  Shoulders slumped, he shuffled away from the block of flats and walked the streets mindlessly until he saw the bright yellow of the McDonald’s arches in front of him.

  Could Benny be in there? Rob felt hope rise in his chest as he pushed open the glass door and walked inside. It was busy for the time of night, and about half of the tables were full.

  There was no sign of Benny downstairs.

  He looked around desperately and then collared a member of staff. “Do you have an eating area upstairs?”

  The woman, who had been sweeping up a spilled portion of french fries, took a step back and shook her head.

  Holding desperately onto the last strands of hope, Rob made his way to the mens’ restrooms.

  Empty.

  Discarded paper towels were scattered on the floor, and the bright fluorescent light hurt his eyes.

  Rob covered his face with his hands.

  Oh, God, Benny. Where have you gone?

  Chapter 42

  Claire Watson sat opposite DS Jack Mackinnon. The way he was looking at her made her feel nervous. He didn’t believe her for one second, that much was obvious.

  She smiled and tried to appear relaxed. “Today has been such a nightmare. I was confused.”

  “Kelly told me you were convinced the man who delivered the flowers knew something about your daughter’s abduction.” He glanced over at the family liaison officer, who was standing in the kitchen, pretending to make tea, but Claire knew she was listening to every word they said.

  Claire took a deep breath. She would have liked to tell the man in front of her to mind his own business and leave her alone. But that wasn’t appropriate, and he would realise she was holding something back.

  “I was mistaken,” she said. “It’s hard being stuck here unable to do anything to help.”

  Peter leaned forward and put his hand over Claire’s. He was sitting beside her on the sofa and watching her with concern.

  “The events of today have been awful, and Claire has been under a great deal of strain. She is distraught. Our doctor is on the way over to prescribe something for Claire to help her relax.”

  Claire gave a tight smile. Dream on, Peter. There was no way she would be taking anything that might dull her senses.

  Peter could think again if he imagined she would swallow some prescription pills like a good little wife and settle down.

  She needed to keep her mind sharp for Ruby.

  If anything, Peter’s reaction confirmed she had made the right choice by not telling him about the new message.

  Claire bowed her head and kept up the meek, obedient wife act. It was an irritation, but one she was prepared to endure to get this police officer out of her apartment. She might be stuck with the family liaison officer, but Claire was confident she would find a way to get past her.

  This detective, on the other hand, was sharper and more observant. From the way he was looking at her now, Claire was convinced he didn’t believe her.

  She didn’t care. She just wanted him to go.

  The phone was waiting for her downstairs in the communal area by the icebox.

  There was a cinema room open to all residents of Drake House. Just outside was a vending area along with the ice machine. It wasn’t used much, but if one of the residents went in there and discovered the phone before she did, everything would be ruined.

  “And there was definitely no card with the flowers?” DS Mackinnon asked.

  Claire shook her head. “No, you can ask her,” she said, nodding at Kelly. “She searched the flowers thoroughly and there was no card.”

  DS Mackinnon watched her carefully, and Claire had to look away and break eye contact. It felt like he could read her mind.

  “Can you tell me again what he said when you opened the door?”

  Claire shook her head in annoyance. “He said something like, I’ve got a delivery for you, then he handed me the flowers, and I asked if I had to sign anything, and he said no.”

  “What part of that made you think he knew something about Ruby’s abduction, darling?” Peter asked.

  Claire clenched her fists. Her husband really wasn’t helping. “I don’t know. Everything happened quickly, and I suppose I just jumped to conclusions.”

  She stared down at her lap, refusing to look at the police officer or her husband.

  Just go, she willed him. Get out of here.

  After another round of questioning, going over the same ground, DS Mackinnon finally left.

  Peter tried to engage her in conversation and stayed sitting beside her on the sofa, but Claire answered him in a monotone voice, using one word answers when she was obliged to reply.

  She watched Kelly Johnson slip into the bathroom and then Peter muttered, “I really don’t know what is keeping Dr Johnson. He should be here by now. I will give him a call and chase him up.”

  Claire nodded and watched her husband retreat to his study.

  This was her chance. Her son was in his bedroom, the family liaison officer was in the bathroom, and her husband was in the study.

  It was now or never.

  Claire got to her feet and walked swiftly to the door. She opened it quietly and slipped out. Once inside the lift, she pressed the button for the fifth floor. Impatiently, she drummed her fingers against her leg.

  She couldn’t afford to have anyone notice her absence otherwise she’d be subjected to yet more questions. A small part of her felt guilty for not confiding in Peter, but she knew he would want to tell the police about this message, and Claire wasn’t prepared to do that.

  She got out of the lift, strode into the communal movie theatre and breathed a sigh of relief when she realised there was nobody there. From the entranceway, she couldn’t see a package beside the ice machine.

  Oh, no, please let it be there.

  She rushed forward and felt a wave of relief when she saw a small cardboard box nestled against the right-hand side of the ice machine.

  She leaned down to pick it up and fumbled inside, finding a small black mobile phone. She pressed a button to illuminate the screen and saw that there was already a text message waiting for her.

  She opened it.

  Level I unlocked. Your next instructions will arrive at midnight.

  Her hand was trembling as she shoved the phone in her pocket, and leaving the cardboard box beside the ice machine, she hurried back towards the lift.

  She made her way back to the apartment, sneaking in the front door, and returned to sit down on the sofa before anyone noticed she was missing.

  She tried to keep her expression neutral as Kelly came out of the bathroom.

  “Is everything okay?” Kelly asked.

  “Fine,” Claire said.

  She could feel the hard case of the mobile phone pushing into her thigh and knew she would have to hide it somewhere, probably in the bedroom where nobody else would notice it.

&nbs
p; The shrill ring of a mobile phone made Claire jump. Were they calling her now? But it was too early… They said midnight.

  She moved to take the new phone from her pocket when she realised it was her own mobile phone ringing and vibrating along the coffee table.

  She looked at the caller display and scowled. For goodness sake. As if she didn’t have bigger things to worry about. She picked it up and could feel Kelly watching her as she did so. She kept her voice low so she wouldn’t be overheard.

  “Enough. I don’t have time to deal with this now. I will sort it out later. Now, stop calling me.”

  She hung up and put the mobile phone back on the coffee table with a shaking hand and noticed that Kelly was staring at her with a frown.

  Claire turned away.

  Chapter 43

  At five minutes to midnight, Claire was hiding in the en suite bathroom. She had put the new phone on silent and was staring at the screen, waiting for the text message to arrive.

  Peter was still awake. He had his eyes closed, but Claire could tell from the sound of his breathing that he wasn’t asleep. She could only hope that he wouldn’t be knocking on the door in a minute and asking if she was all right.

  The doctor had called earlier and prescribed some sedatives. Claire pretended to take them, but had thrown them in the bin when Peter wasn’t looking. She needed to be alert.

  Her stomach felt hollowed out and full of bile. Why did time pass so slowly when you were waiting for something? She let out a long breath in frustration and leaned back against the marble tiles. How much longer were they going to drag this out?

  She had heard nothing after the last task she’d been given, and she’d done everything they asked.

  Would this time be any different?

  At exactly midnight, the phone in her hand buzzed.

  One new text message.

  She held her breath as her fingers fumbled in her haste to press the right buttons to get to the message.

  Wait…that couldn’t be right…

  Claire bit down on her lower lip as she read the message again.

  Be outside Bryant Lane Infant School at 8:55 AM. Further instructions will be sent to this phone when you get there.

  Tell no one.

  A primary school? Surely they couldn’t be intending… They wouldn’t ask her to hurt a child. She couldn’t do it. She wouldn’t.

  She shook her head as her mind raced. No, she was assuming too much. It was just a meeting place, that was all. Just a landmark. When she got there, they would give her further instructions and send her somewhere else.

  It probably had nothing to do with children.

  Claire had tears in her eyes as she put the phone in the back of the bathroom cabinet behind a packet of cotton-wool pads.

  She now had eight hours and fifty-four minutes to wait until she knew what was going to happen next.

  * * *

  Early the following morning, Roger Sturgess entered the Stepney Allotments. Two weeks had passed since he’d last visited, and he was hoping his plot wouldn’t look too shabby. He’d had an operation on his prostate a few months ago, and since then, he’d been in and out of hospital for one thing or another. He’d been starting to think he’d never get out and work on his allotment again.

  Although he wasn’t going to be able to do much physical work today, somehow simply being around the plants made him feel better.

  He had held his allotment plot in Stepney since the early eighties, and over the years, there were occasions when it had been the only thing that kept him going. He’d lived in Stepney all his life, save a brief time as a child during the Blitz when he’d been evacuated to Cornwall.

  He’d never had a garden himself, so his allotment was the only way he could grow his own food. He didn’t only grow fruit and vegetables, though. He made sure to plant his fair share of flowers, too, which encouraged the bees to visit the allotment.

  As he wound his way along the path towards the shed and his allotment plot, Roger braced himself. He’d put a great deal of hard graft into this place over the years, but as he grew older, he was finding it harder to maintain.

  Plots on the allotment were very hard to come by, and the organisers had even closed the waiting list last year. In Roger’s opinion, the council should have put some effort into creating more open spaces like this for cultivation. He thought it would help keep youngsters off the streets and out of trouble. There were community projects held in the area, but they were mostly held indoors. Roger thought the local government was missing a trick. Gardening was relaxing and reduced stress. He thought there would be considerably less violent crime if people spent more time in gardens, but it didn’t bring in any money for the council, and land was at a premium around here, so he knew he was fighting a losing battle on that front.

  As he turned the corner, the path snaked away and his allotment came into view. Roger breathed a sigh of relief.

  It didn’t look too bad, after all. In fact, if he wasn’t mistaken, it had even been weeded recently.

  Roger smiled. That must’ve been his old mate, Fred. He stood there for a moment, breathing in the smell of the warm soil and fresh green leaves. A bumblebee buzzed around him and headed for the brightly-coloured nasturtiums.

  It was good to be back.

  Although Fred had done a very good job on the weeding front, there was still some work to do. Some of the runner beans had grown too long for their stakes, so Roger’s first job would be to reattach them. That was a nice easy job to start with.

  He dug around in his pocket for his keys and then wandered over to the shed, whistling as he went.

  As he pushed the door open, he sensed something was wrong. The birdsong and buzz from the insects faded into the background as he blinked at the sight in front of him.

  After the bright sunlight outside, it was dark in the shed, and at first, Roger thought he was seeing things.

  It almost looked like there was a man lying on the floor of his shed… But that couldn’t be right.

  Roger took a step forward and that was when he saw the blood on the man’s shirt. With some effort, he gingerly knelt down beside the body.

  What on earth had gone on here?

  He gently placed his fingers against the man’s wide neck to feel for a pulse. Nothing. The poor bugger.

  Roger removed his hand and looked sadly at the young man in front of him.

  He was a big lad, but so young. What an awful waste.

  How had he ended up here? Roger shook his head. There went his relaxing morning gardening. He would have to go over the road to the shops and get them to call the police.

  Roger could practically feel his joints creaking as he heaved himself to his feet, leaning heavily on the bench.

  He’d turned to go when he heard a spluttering cough. Roger spun back around. Dead men didn’t cough.

  The big man’s eyes were still closed, but Roger touched his arm and said, “Hang on, mate. I’m going to go and get you an ambulance. You just hang on.”

  Roger hobbled out of the shed as quickly as he could, calling for help.

  Chapter 44

  At eight fifty-five a.m., Toby George stood by the gates of Bryant Lane Church of England primary school. It had been easy enough to leave the flat without arousing suspicion. He told Glenn he needed to pop out for some cigarettes. No doubt, the police were watching them carefully after what had happened with Janice and the acid, but he wasn't sneaking off. He’d even gone into Perry’s Newsagents and asked the bloke behind the till if he could leave through the back yard, so if he had been followed, that would have delayed them for a bit.

  He clutched the mobile phone in his left hand. All around him, parents were dropping off their children. Why had the people who had taken Lila, asked him to come here? Why had they picked out a school?

  He heard a squeal of delight and children’s laughter as two boys rushed past him, racing each other into the school playground.

  Toby ran a hand throug
h his hair and looked at the mobile phone. The screen was blank, but he had four bars of signal.

  He was only wearing a T-shirt and a loose pair of cargo pants, but he was sweating. He hadn’t yet drawn any strange looks from the parents, but he knew he would soon. It was only a matter of time.

  These people came to the school gates every day from Monday to Friday and they recognised other parents. They would soon notice Toby was a stranger in their midst, and he had no idea how he would explain his presence to a group of angry mothers.

  The phone beeped and buzzed in his hand, and Toby fought back a wave of nausea as he fumbled with the phone and read the message.

  Take one of the children and escort them to the corner of Milton Street.

  Any child.

  Toby shook his head.

  No.

  They couldn’t be asking him to do that.

  He blinked a couple of times and then read the message again. He had no idea what they would do to the child. Would they hurt them? Or was this simply a test to see if he was prepared to do as he was told.

  Toby looked around wildly, imagining he was being watched by Lila’s abductors right now. But he couldn’t see anyone suspicious. They all looked like normal parents to him.

  The children were so small and defenceless. How was he supposed to see this through?

  Toby looked around at the children weaving their way past him and entering the school gates. His heart was racing.

  A second beep from the mobile phone made him jump.

  He read the message with a feeling of dread.

  Tick Tock.

  A tiny Asian girl with glossy dark hair in bunches rushed past Toby.

  He called out, “Hold on, sweetheart. Your laces are undone.”

  The girl turned and looked up at Toby with trusting eyes. He passed through the school gates and knelt down in front of her. Her big brown eyes watched him as he tied her shoelace.

  * * *

  Claire felt numb.

  She looked down at the phone in her hand and couldn’t believe this was happening to her. How could she take a child? Knowing how it felt, how could she put another mother through what she was going through right now? It was sick.