Bram
Hello, Bram. Do you want to play a game?
I stare downat the text from a number I don’t recognize an inordinate amount of time before putting a call to my brother and relay the new—the old nightmare blooming before me.
“What the hell?” Mace pants into the phone as if he ran a mile to get there. “Get Ree and the kids, and take off for the night. Somebody is fucking with you. Hell, it could be her, and, if it is, she’s stalking you.”
“The kids are gone for the night. They’re staying with friends. Ree looks as if she’s about to turn me in. Simone has done a fantastic job of infiltrating her mind. Dead or alive, she’s still got it.”
“I hear that. Give me the number. I’m going to try to get a read on where she is.”
“How the hell are you going to do that?”
“I might just call and ask. She’s the one who said she’s up for a game. I say we give her one.”
I send Mace the number and get off the phone before heading back inside the house to be with Ree. To comfort Ree. To tell her there is yet another sinister plot twist that’s guaranteed to keep us up at night. She’s not in the kitchen, the dining room, or the living room.
“Ree?” I call out just as she comes bounding down the stairs, a wild look in her eyes, her jacket and shoes on, a purse slung over her shoulder. “Where are you going?”
Her glassy eyes settle over mine. Ree looks chemically altered, slightly deranged, stoned. “It’s time you met my mother.” She holds her hand out to me. “Come, Peter. She would love to meet you.”
I have seen my wife through every measure of pain, emotional—especially when we spoke of Isla and Henry, physical—giving birth to our own children, and yet this glazed look she’s wearing like a mask, I don’t recognize it at all. It’s as if she’s fractured. This is it. Peter Woodley strikes again. I’ve killed her on the inside where it truly counts, and I can only pray she recovers.
“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” I say, trying to steer her to the sofa, but she jerks my hand away.
“I do.” Her gaze burns like fire over me, her voice curt and angry. “You will love her. The two of you have so very much in common.” She ushers us out the door without bothering to shut it, and I glance back at the open mouth, the burst of light beaconing into the night that lets the rest of the neighborhood know there is something amiss. But on a night like tonight. Tonight, of all nights, it might not register a wayward blink.
Lena’s home is dark, save for the soft flicker of light emanating from the television in the living room. I haven’t been a regular guest at Lena’s rental the way Ree has, but I’ve been over enough to know the layout, to realize where the exits are in the event I need to escape the madness, and something tells me I will.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I stop in the middle of the street to fish it out. Ree goes on ahead and waits by Lena’s walkway. Ree would never intentionally put herself in harm’s way. That’s exactly what I love about her. Not only is she safe, but she prefers to keep herself that way. Her fierce level of self-preservation is the only reason she’s with us today. And the monster behind those walls is the reason she almost didn’t make it.
I glance at the screen. It’s a text from Mace.I know in general where she or whoever is at. Get the hell out of Percy and do it tonight. If you don’t assure me you’re leaving, I’m calling the police.
“Shit,” I mutter as a pair of headlights speed this way, and I jog over to safety, to Ree who’s holding herself, shivering. I grip her by the arms and pull her in close. “We can’t do this right now. We need to leave. We’re in danger. We need to get the kids and leave Percy right now.”
“No!” Her voice riots into the night with a level of insanity in it that I’ve never heard before. “We stay.” Her breathing is ragged as plumes of white fog billow from her mouth. “My mother has been waiting for this moment, and I’m not about to deny her. You owe me that, Peter. You owe me so much more than you’ll ever realize.”
My phone bleats with a text once again, and I glance down. Same mysterious number. Same number Mace warned me about. Just four words.
Let the games begin.
My blood runs cold as I give a quick glance around at the vicinity. It’s as if I can feel them—feel her watching me, watching us, and for that reason alone I head to the door.
Ree gives a low and furtive knock. “Open up, Mother.” She does her best to keep her voice even-tempered as not to attract any more attention than our neighborhood has already called to itself tonight. “Lena? It’s me. I have to talk to you.”
A rustle emits from the other side. The sound of footfalls heads in this direction as ominous as steel drums with the skin pulled tight. The door gives a quick jiggle, and the lock releases with a snap.
Ree looks up at me from under her lashes just like that first day we met, and I can’t help but wonder if this will be our last.
“Come inside, Peter. I can’t wait for you to meet Mommy.”
