Bad Games

32



Patrick reappeared at the Mitchell’s front door with a rifle gripped tight in both hands. Both Lorraine and Amy took several steps back, Lorraine involuntarily raising her hands in a submissive gesture.

“What?” Amy said. “What’s wrong?”

“They’re still here,” Patrick said. He gripped the rifle with such intensity it looked as though he meant to break it.

The rifle had always been at the cabin. The Lamberts were not hunters, but Amy’s father was. He kept the gun locked away in the cabin for the rare times he still went on hunting trips. Patrick knew where he kept it, never approved of it, always ignored it, and was now grateful for it.

Amy looked at the rifle in her husband’s hands with frightened eyes. “What are you talking about? Why do you have my dad’s gun?”

Patrick ignored his wife and turned his attention on the front door. He locked it then twisted and pulled at the handle, testing its stability. Satisfied, he whirled around and took powerful strides towards the back door where he repeated the same ritual.

“Patrick.”

He returned to the living room, slid the rifle open, double-checked the ammunition he’d loaded at the cabin, nodded to himself, slammed the metal bolt home.

“Patrick!”

Patrick’s frantic trance broke, eyes wide, looking as if he’d been shaken from a nightmare. “The chimes,” he said. “The wind chimes that maniac was flicking on the Blocker’s porch…they’re dangling from our back deck with Oscar’s f*cking tail hanging in the middle of them.”

Lorraine gasped and put a hand over her mouth.

“They killed the dog?” Amy asked.

Patrick snorted and tightened his grip on the rifle. “My guess would be yes. Either that or they held the poor bastard down and sliced off his tail. Either way, I think it’s safe to say that things have gone from bad to exceptionally f*cking worse.”

Lorraine lowered her hand from her mouth and said, “Oh that poor little thing.”

Patrick hurried back to the front door, cracked the blinds on one of the adjacent windows. The driveway was empty. No headlights in the distance. “Where are they, Lorraine? Is the ice cream place that far away?” he said.

Lorraine shook her head in quick bursts and said, “Yes. I mean, no. I mean yes, it’s kind of far, but no, I would have expected them to be home by now.”

Patrick faced Amy, the rifle tight to his chest. “Please God no,” he said in a breathless whisper.

“Please God no what?” Amy said. “What are you thinking?”

Patrick swallowed hard, his mouth drying up on him. “I’m thinking that if these bastards have been three steps ahead of us this whole time, then how the hell do we know they don’t have Norm and the kids?”

Now it was Amy who put a hand to her mouth.

“But when could they have done that?” Lorraine asked. “Someone had to recently put that wind chime up on your porch. The parlor is far. The distance and timing doesn’t add up.”

“Maybe they never made it to the parlor,” Patrick said. “Did you watch them leave?”

“What?”

“After Norm dropped you off, did you watch them actually back out of the driveway and leave Crescent Lake?”

Lorraine thought for a brief moment, her eyes dropping to recall. When she eventually looked up, she could not meet Patrick’s stare. “No. No, I didn’t. I didn’t think I’d have a reason to. I didn’t think…”

Amy rubbed Lorraine’s back.

Patrick lowered his head. “So there’s a chance they never even left the lake.”

Amy asked, “So what exactly are you suggesting?”

“I’m suggesting those two f*cks might have grabbed them before they even had a chance to leave.”

“Doesn’t that sound like a big risk?” Lorraine asked. “Suppose someone saw them?”

“And suppose someone didn’t?” Patrick said. “Or suppose they didn’t even use force to get hold of them. These guys are smart, Lorraine. Norm’s one of the nicest guys in the world. For all we know these men could have tricked him; said they had a flat, needed directions…who the hell knows?”

Amy made a face of horrific possibility. “Are you saying its possible Carrie and Caleb were there? They were being held captive in the Blocker’s cabin while we were dealing with those guys?”

“Maybe,” Patrick said. “I don’t know.”

Amy looked like she wanted to punch things and cry.

“The sheriff said he searched that cabin,” Lorraine said.

“That sheriff is f*cking useless,” Patrick said. “If you ask me he probably didn’t even go inside the damn place. Probably just peeked in a few windows.”

Lorraine walked carefully towards the kitchen table as though she was a bit drunk, grabbing at nearby things for balance. She sat gingerly, took a long breath, wiped her face. Her skin was near white.

“Lorraine, are you alright?” Amy asked.

She closed her eyes and nodded. She kept them closed when she replied, “Yes—I’m just very scared.”

Amy walked over and put a hand on Lorraine’s shoulder. Lorraine rested her own hand on top of Amy’s and squeezed it. Amy looked at Patrick. “What do we do? Do we call the sheriff again?”

Patrick scoffed, his jeer for the sheriff and not for the intent of belittling his wife’s suggestion. “Are you joking? At this point I don’t even think he’d show up if we did.” He started towards the kitchen. Placed the rifle on the counter and ran both hands under the faucet, splashing cold water onto his face. Finished, he grabbed the gun again and faced both women. “Here’s what we’re going to do,” he said. “You two are going stay here. You’re going to turn off the lights; keep the doors and windows locked; and stay out of sight. I’m going—”

“No!” Amy screamed. “You’re not going anywhere! You’re not—”

“Shut up!” he yelled. There was a twinge of guilt for his outburst, but now was not the time for tact. He would apologize later. And there would be a later.

Patrick spoke his next words slowly and methodically. “I am going to the Blocker’s house. I will have the gun with me. I am going to search every inch of that house. If I find anything, I will deal with it. If Norm and the kids come back, you tell Norm what’s been going on, and all of you stay locked up tight until I return.”

Amy’s attempt at controlling her tears had failed. They were flowing freely now, her voice wet and strained. “And if you don’t return?” she said.

Patrick looked at his wife with desperate intensity. “I’m going to return.”

Amy cried harder. Lorraine stood and hugged her, then looked over her shoulder at Patrick. “I’m not too sure this is wise, Patrick,” she said. “If these men are as dangerous as they seem…”

Patrick’s gaze was unflinching. “Well then think about this, Lorraine: what if these dangerous men have got a hold of your husband and our children? What do you suggest we do? Sit here and wait? Excuse me, but f*ck that.”