A Game of Murder (24 page)

Heartened by no longer being in the dark, she picked up the lantern and carried it to the door. She hesitated before opening it. Her pulse pounded as she waited, jumped when a snorting sound came from the other side. She had to see what—or who—was out there. Faith opened the door.

Stepping through into the unfinished greenhouse, she took a deep breath, turned right, and tiptoed until she reached the section covered in glass. She raised the lantern to the panes, peered out into the predawn light.

A cacophony of squawks and squeals erupted as a mass of shapes galloped out of the garden and into the desert. Faith burst into hysterical laughter. A herd of javelina, animals reminiscent of pigs, had discovered the early morning breakfast buffet at the tire house. She’d have to tell Hope they needed better protection if they wanted to harvest any vegetables from the garden.

The eastern sky was brightening, and Faith decided she might as well stay up. Unfortunately, she didn’t think the kitchen stocked any coffee. She’d have to make do with water. But first she needed to try out the new composting toilet John and Walt had installed.

The toilet worked fine, and Faith was pleasantly surprised by the confirmation that it didn’t smell. Of course, it hadn’t been used much. Walt insisted on “christening” the device before they left last time, so she was only the second person to leave something inside.

Using the toilet reminded Faith Pixel’s litter box still resided in the trunk of her car. She’d had more than enough to carry with her suitcase and the cat carrier. She poured herself some water and picked up the cat.

“A new experience,” she said as she went out the front door. “I know you’re used to indoor facilities, but you’re going to have to rough it for now.”

Worrying the cat would decide to go off exploring or discover a scorpion or tarantula to play with, Faith didn’t dare sit down, but stayed close by as Pixel nosed about the front yard. He, too, was fascinated by the garden and sniffed some of the spots the javelina had dug up. Apparently coming to the conclusion this loose soil was as good as his litter box at home, he dug himself a hole and squatted. When he finished fastidiously covering up the hole, he proceeded to curl up in a sunny spot on the thinking rock. Faith sat beside him to enjoy the morning. The sky arched overhead in a canopy of blue, the air, cool and clean, caressed Faith’s skin.

As she sipped her water, she congratulated herself on her plan. Staying at the tire house was working out quite well. If she’d known she was coming here, she might have packed more food. And coffee. The tire house had proved safe and peaceful—other than invading javelinas.

Maybe she could even work on her game today. She’d thrown her laptop in the suitcase, not able to imagine a day apart from it. Only a few more days remained for her to finish her game and upload it to the contest site. Before she got started on that task, there was one other thing she should do.

She wondered if it was late enough to call Hope like she’d promised. She pulled her cell phone out of her pocket and turned it on to check the time. Trying to conserve the battery, she’d powered it down last night before she went to sleep. The phone took a while to go through the start up process. The distinctive call of a cactus wren led Faith to gaze at a saguaro not too far away. A hummingbird hovered over a flowering bush nearby. When the hummingbird darted away, Faith glanced down at the phone. At last the screen displayed the time in large, white numbers. And, right beneath the numbers, notifications of a missed call and voicemail message from John.

Faith’s eyes kept wandering to the battery icon at the top of her laptop screen as she worked on her game. It now showed 51% power. It was only mid-afternoon. She wanted to spend a good part of the evening finishing up the broad strokes of the game, leaving tomorrow for fleshing out the puzzles and characters, and Thursday for polishing and testing. That left Friday for fixing any glitches she ran into, which, hopefully, would be few.
 
If her schedule held, she’d be able to upload the game to the competition site in plenty of time.

But at this rate, the laptop battery would be drained by midday tomorrow. She either had to work faster, or be forced to leave the tire house sooner than she wanted to. With no electricity, there was no way to recharge any batteries. That was one reason she’d powered down her cell phone right after she talked to Hope. The other, of course, was to avoid listening to John’s message.

The fact that he’d turned her away, even though his reasons were valid, still stung. He ended their relationship. He didn’t help her when she turned to him. She had no desire to hear his voice or a message that existed primarily to sooth his conscience.

She’d have to turn the laptop off soon or resign herself to returning to her home tomorrow. She’d been hoping to remain here until after she uploaded the game, when it would be too late for those making the threats to stop her. Once the game was entered, once she’d fulfilled her commitment to herself to replace the now-deceased Mira’s entry, there’d be less reason for her tormentors to continue their campaign of harassment.

She hoped.

Thinking about it made her want to see what was happening on that front. Not that she liked being harassed, but perhaps the gamers had backed off, used up their quota of vitriol for the week. She hesitated for a few minutes, then, determined to not be a coward in the face of opposition, reached for her cell phone and pushed the power button.

The first thing she saw when the screen appeared was another message from John. Her irritation transferred itself to her former boyfriend.
One of many former boyfriends
her traitor brain couldn’t help reminding her. Before she gave in to the temptation to listen to what he had to say, she quickly switched to the process to set the phone up as a mobile hotspot which would allow her to connect her computer to the Internet.

Once her mini-network was in place, Faith went to the message boards. As soon as she read the first few messages, her stomach sickened and she found herself hunching over, arms wrapped around her midsection trying to hold in the pain. Getting hold of herself, she called up her resolve not to be a victim. Anger replaced the pain. Despite her better judgment about not feeding trolls, she started typing a response.

“You may spew your poisonous hate all you want, but you will not stop me from entering the competition. Look for my game Saturday morning. Be prepared to be amazed.”

Before she could change her mind, she punched the Post button, disconnected, and powered down both her laptop and phone. Her breath came quickly and she wondered if adding the last sentence had been necessary. Would she really be able to complete an amazing game in three days? Possibly. If she were home with all the required resources—especially electricity—to put in several marathon programming sessions. It wasn’t as if she’d never done that before. Maybe she would spend the evening on her computer after all, take the chance on draining the laptop’s battery.

“Meow?” Pixel stared up at her pitifully. “Meow.” Definitely his crying sound, the one he made when he needed his litter box, and she hadn’t cleaned it recently.

Only there was no litter box. She needed to take him outside again. Not her preference, but cleaning up the floor was less of one. She wondered how long this procedure would work. There was a good chance she wouldn’t hear his plaintive cries in the middle of the night, and the cat wouldn’t be able to wait until she awoke in the morning.

Several hours of daylight remained and, since she needed to save the charge on her laptop, she had time to fill. After escorting his majesty outside to relieve himself, Faith headed out on a hike to her car to retrieve the litter box and bag of litter.

* * *

Faith half-waked from a dream where she was trapped inside a computer game, wandering around a cartoon landscape battling trolls on a quest to rescue the princess. What princess, she had no idea, but there seemed to be a princess waiting in a Rapunzelian tower for Faith to come save her. Weird dream, she thought.

After the long walk to her car, exhaustion led her to the sleeping bag shortly after dark. With no television, no radio, and no Internet, the night sounds of the desert lulled her to sleep. Until now. She realized what had awakened her was the sound of a truck engine approaching up the rutted road.

Did Hope tell John where she was staying?
Faith asked her not to, but it was possible Hope thought he should check on her.
This late?
The engine sound grew louder and then cut off.
He was here.
Was she happy? Angry? Frightened?

What would she say to him? What would he say to her? Before she could figure any of this out, the sound of breaking glass shattered the silence.

Not John.

John wouldn’t need to break the greenhouse window, the only glass used in the tire house. John had a key to the door.

Vandals? Even as she raised the question to herself, she knew it wasn’t random vandals. Her tormenters had found her.

“Meow?” Pixel cried from near her feet where he’d curled up once she’d snugged into the sleeping bag.

Quickly Faith sat up and grabbed the cat, hoping to keep him quiet. His little heart beat in his chest as rapidly as her own. They had to hide. But where? There wasn’t time to think. She scrabbled to her feet and headed to the one room with a door. It was also the room closest to the living area. Holding Pixel in her arms, she entered the bathroom and flattened her back against the wall behind the door, forcing herself to take shallow breaths, hoping the intruder wouldn’t hear her. It worked in the movies. Would it work in real life?

She stared into the darkness with unblinking eyes, trembling as she waited.

The front door opened. Footsteps tapped across the concrete floor of the main room. The steps got marginally softer as the man circled, then stopped momentarily. Was he looking behind the kitchen counter? Under the dining room table? Faith was glad she hadn’t chosen either one as her refuge. But the bathroom was only temporarily safer.

Bathroom.

There was something about the bathroom she should remember. Something important.
Think!
She couldn’t focus. She squeezed her eyes shut.
Think!
Something John showed her on the grand tour.
Think!
A trickle of relief dribbled through her, quieted her pounding heart when it came to her. The one place she might escape detection by her antagonist. If only she could reach it.

The footsteps faded, the tapping stopped. She’d gotten lucky. He must have gone into the future master bedroom, passed from the concrete onto the dirt. The large room included several framed-out areas he’d have to search to assure himself she wasn’t hiding in one. It would take him a few seconds to confirm that she wasn’t there.

Grateful she was barefoot and had no shoes to make any tapping of her own, Faith crept out of the bathroom and tip-toed across the floor. Just as she was about to turn into the alcove, the sound came again.

Tap.

He’d finished searching the bedroom sooner than she expected, his heel hitting the hard floor as he exited. Panic swelled in her breast, threatened to choke her. She didn’t have time to reach her objective. Changing direction, she ducked behind the kitchen island, praying he wouldn’t think to search behind it twice. She hadn’t prayed a whole lot since her breakup with John. Now seemed like a good time to start.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

She held her breath. He passed by, headed toward the other side of the room and the hallway that led to the bedrooms. And the bathroom she so recently vacated.

She couldn’t help herself. She needed to see her enemy. She raised up enough to make out the back of the figure leaving the great room. Definitely male. Beyond that, there were no distinguishing characteristics. His head swiveled first left, then right, giving her a glimpse of his profile before she ducked down behind the island again. And waited.

His footsteps softened as he entered one room, got louder again as he returned to the hall. She waited until she guessed he was at the last set of bedrooms, then raised up and tiptoed toward the back of the tire house, holding Pixel close to her chest.

As soundlessly as possible, she opened the back door, stepped through, and closed it. Daring to take a deep breath for the first time in an age, she circled the extension to the house until she arrived at the steps leading to the small entrance. She pulled the hatchway open, entered, and shut it behind her. Merely being inside wasn’t enough. If he opened the door, he’d be able to see Pixel and her. She turned sideways and wriggled down the narrow space ahead until she could crouch behind the composting tank.

Pixel’s heart thudded in his chest, and she took a moment to stroke him, trying to reassure him they would be all right. Not easy, since she wasn’t sure they would. For the second time that night, she offered up a brief prayer.

Please, Lord. Don’t let him find us.

She heard the back door of the tire house open. The intruder had no qualms about noise as he stomped onto the back patio. Seconds later, he swore and stomped back inside.

Faith breathed a “Thank you,” but stayed where she was, stroking Pixel, until she heard the truck start up again and drive into the night.

Even though he’d left his phone on the bedside table overnight, John checked it again once Luke was settled in front of the television. Still no call from Faith. He wondered where she’d spent the past two nights. Had she gone home despite her misgivings? He tried her number again, but the call went straight to voicemail. He doubted it was any use to leave a third message. She was probably angry with him, didn’t want to speak with him.

He couldn’t help but worry. Was she safe? Should he have let her stay with him?

He made up his mind to stop by her house after he returned Luke to his mother. He wished he could keep his son longer, but persuading Roni to give him the extra night had been hard enough. At least it had been one more night when she wasn’t able to run off with him.