The Deadliest Game Read online

  The Deadliest Game

  By H E Joyce

  Copyright ©2014 HEJoyce

  All rights reserved

  This book may not be copied digitally or in any other form without express permission of the author

  This is a work of fiction. Any references or resemblances to people, events or places is purely coincidental.

  www.hejoyce.co.uk

  Acknowledgements

  The author would like to thank his editor, Elaine Denning for her sterling work.

  Cover Design: Air Creative Marketing Ltd

  Dedication

  For my family and friends

  Contents

  The Deadliest Game

  Acknowledgements

  Dedication

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty One

  Twenty Two

  Twenty Three

  Twenty Four

  Twenty Five

  Twenty Six

  Quotes

  One

  Three Months Ago

  The fog that had hung over Laura was dissipating. At last life seemed good again and there was a purpose to living that she had not felt for the past three years. At thirty-six, this was her second marriage, her first having only lasted six years until it ended in tragic circumstances. The one positive thing that had come from it was Jody, her now eight-year-old son.

  Had it not been for Jody, there were times when she could have easily given up, taken some pills and ended it all. It would have been all too easy had it not been for the love felt by a mother for her child. That was the only thing that saw her through the darkness. She had, however, suffered a complete breakdown soon after her husband’s death, and had spent a number of weeks in hospital under sedation while her parents took care of Jody. It was somewhat ironic perhaps, with Laura being a psychotherapist herself, but mental breakdown knows no bounds, and given the circumstances, it was unsurprising that she had succumbed. Those had been the darkest and most difficult days of her life, but they were gone now. Gone - but not forgotten.

  The civil ceremony took place at the municipal hall in Brooksville, a small coastal town in Maine, and with a population of just 843 people it was the sort of town where everyone knew one another. It was a glorious June day, comfortably warm with a hint of sea breeze and the heady scent of apple blossom ever present in the air. It was a small affair with just family and friends. Others would join them later on the outskirts of town, where a party would be held in the expansive grounds of their home. It was a large, rambling nineteenth century house complete with a huge barn, woodland that swept down to the sea, and an idyllic bay where their small motor boat was moored. It had come with the house.

  Laura didn’t see herself as a country girl; she had lived and worked in Chicago for many years. However, she had bought the house soon after being discharged from the hospital, desperate for a new start for Jody and herself. She wanted somewhere far away from the city where people cared about their neighbours, somewhere where she could put the past behind her and recover fully, a place where she was not known. Brooksville was perfect. There was only one drawback: it seemed doubtful she would gain many clients in such a small place where it was unlikely that many, if any at all of its population, had psychological problems. But there were always those from the surrounding area that might need her help, so she decided, in order to cut down on costs, to run her practise from the house rather than renting an office in the town. She was reasonably secure financially, though not by any means rich, but she could get by. Her main priority was to live a peaceful life, and if she took on the occasional client, then all the better.

  The change had certainly worked; she had lived the simple life, enjoying the peace of mind that living in the country brought. She made jam from the fruit trees that grew on her land, even selling some to a few of the shops in the town. Gardening and tending to the grounds also took up a great deal of her time, and she had acquired some clients who visited her home for consultations a few times a week. At night she was happy just to lounge on the large comfortable sofa and spend time with Jody. But although the relative contentment remained, after a couple of years she sometimes found herself weeping after Jody had gone to bed and she was alone again for the night.

  She carried on, determined not to slip into a state of depression, and it was around that time while getting provisions from the town that Mrs Merryweather, a sweet old lady that ran the hardware and grocery shop with her husband, intervened in a way that would change her life. She asked Laura if she would like to attend a Halloween ball the following week.

  ‘Oh I don’t know, Mrs Merryweather, I really don’t know many people yet.’

  ‘You know me don’t you?’ she said with a kindly smile.

  ‘Well, yes, but I’m not sure I’d be able to get anyone to look after Jody.’

  ‘My friend’s granddaughter, Maggie, would be glad to babysit. You’ve met Maggie haven’t you? She’s always babysitting for people around the town.’

  ‘I…’

  ‘That’s settled then. It’s at the old barn on the edge of town. I’ll send Maggie over to your place at seven-thirty on Saturday.’

  It was clear that the silver-haired Mrs Merryweather pitied Laura’s solitary life, yet her well-intended insistence hadn’t come at a better time. Laura found herself readily accepting the offer.

  Saturday arrived and true to Mrs Merryweather’s word, the young teenager was on the doorstep at just after seven-thirty.

  ‘Hi Maggie, come in. Thanks for doing this for me.’

  ‘That’s okay, Mrs Mitchell.’

  ‘Laura – please call me Laura.’

  Maggie stepped into the hallway. ‘You look lovely,’ she said, perching on the bottom stair to pull off her boots.

  Laura glanced at herself in the mirror and smoothed her hands over the silk of her dress. She hoped, with it being long and black, that it would suffice as a Halloween costume.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said, tucking a loose blonde curl behind her ear, ‘but I’m not sure I’ve made enough effort. It’s supposed to be fancy dress.’

  It had taken her all of thirty seconds to decide what to wear. A few years before, she’d have had a closet full of clothes to choose from, but the majority of them had been given away or donated to Goodwill before the move. Her new life in the country warranted a brand new wardrobe and she’d swapped ‘fashionable’ for ‘functional’. As she applied a second coat of lipstick, she tried to remember the last time she’d worn the dress, but drew a blank. She couldn’t even remember the last time she’d had an evening away from her son. The thought both excited and terrified her and she swallowed the lump of apprehension settling in her throat.

  ‘Oh, by the way,’ Laura said, easing her foot awkwardly into the unfamiliarity of a black strappy shoe,’ don’t worry about getting home; I’ve booked a cab home for ten-thirty. You can jump in it when I get here.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter if you’re later, really, we’ll be okay.’

  ‘Yeah, we’ll be fine, Mom.’

  Both heads turned towards Jody. For a second Laura wanted to kick off her shoes, send Maggie on her way and cuddle up on the sofa with him. He looked younger, somehow. Smaller. Perhaps it was just the heels.

  ‘Sweetheart, this is Maggie,’ Laura said, as he sidled up beside her. ‘And
I’ll definitely be back before eleven, I promise.’

  ‘Can we watch scary movies, Mom?’

  Laura said “no” just as Maggie said “yes”, and Jody’s laughter filled the hallway. She ruffled his hair then watched as he tugged Maggie into the lounge, his excitement at having a new friend evident.

  It was only a short cab ride to the barn, but her heart began to pound. She could only put it down to the fact she hadn’t socialised in such a long time. She was nervous and imagined either sitting alone in a dark corner all evening, or being introduced by Mrs Merryweather to various townsfolk who would undoubtedly ask, albeit unwittingly, awkward questions regarding her life before moving to Brooksville. Both filled her with dread.

  However, on her arrival the nerves lessened as she felt immediate warmth from the locals who each greeted her as she entered the barn. Some she knew, others she had never seen before, but it didn’t seem to matter, everyone was welcoming and greeted her as if she had lived in the town all her life.

  Through the crowded barn, she caught the eye of Mrs Merryweather, who smiled with delight.

  ‘Oh my dear, I’m so glad to see you, and my, don’t you look stunning. Come along; let’s get you some punch.’ She took Laura’s arm and led her to a long table overflowing with food and drink, and a huge punch bowl raised ceremoniously on a plinth in the centre. Her husband stood close-by. ‘Doesn’t Laura look absolutely stunning, George?’ she said, ladling some of the liquid into a glass.

  ‘She does that. Good-evening to you Laura. So, what do you think to our little effort here?’

  ‘I think it’s absolutely wonderful Mr Merryweather.’

  ‘So you’re glad you came then dear?’ said his wife.

  ‘Yes, I am. Thank you for persuading me. Everyone’s so friendly.’

  ‘You’re right there, you don’t get friends like that in the cities young lady,’ said George, with obvious pride in his town and its people.

  ‘No – no, you don’t,’ Laura said, her eyes wandering around the room. Someone she hadn’t seen before caught her eye. He, like her, was not dressed in any sort of costume, just a dark suit, though he had enhanced it with a black cape. His hair, as dark as his suit, was swept back off his face – a rather handsome face, she noticed. He was talking to someone, a female dressed as a witch. Her face was heavily made-up with green face paint and she wore a wig, but despite this, Laura didn’t think she knew her either.

  ‘I see you’ve spotted Michael,’ said Mrs Merryweather with a knowing smile. ‘He’s a very attractive man, don’t you think?’

  ‘I hadn’t really noticed, ’Laura lied. Who is he? I don’t think I’ve ever seen him before.’

  ‘I’m not too surprised at that dear; he doesn’t come out to play much. That’s Mike Peterson; he’s a lawyer, and the town’s most eligible bachelor. He’s a nice man, just hasn’t met the right woman yet. Would you like me to introduce you?’

  ‘Oh no, no, really Mrs Merryweather, I’m not…’

  ‘Firstly, I think we’ve known each other long enough for you to call me Blanche, and secondly, were you going to say you weren’t interested?’

  ‘Well – Blanche, it’s just that I’m not looking to meet anyone right now.’

  ‘Of course you’re not. But that doesn’t mean you can’t have a little fun now, does it?’

  ‘Blanche – really!’ Laura found herself blushing a little, but then the two women laughed together as George stood quietly sipping his punch and smiling to himself at his wife’s well-intended meddling. ‘Besides, I think he has company at the moment.’ Laura gestured towards the woman who was engaging him in conversation.

  ‘Oh you don’t need to worry about her, I’m sure there’s nothing going on there – nothing serious anyhow.’

  ‘Well, I’m not so sure about that Blanche, it looks serious enough to me.’ The woman was standing a little too close to him, the kind of close reserved for people who were more than friends. If they weren’t in a relationship already, she didn’t think it would be too long until they were.

  ‘Oh nonsense. Just you leave it to me.’ With that, Blanche Merryweather marched over to the couple as if on a mission. Laura couldn’t stop her without drawing attention to herself. Maybe deep down she didn’t want to.

  Laura couldn’t look and turned to speak to George, who was swaying steadily to the music.

  ‘Would you like to dance?’ he slurred, placing his empty glass on the table and grabbing Laura’s hand before she could object. The band was playing a moderately slow piece so she accepted reluctantly and they joined the other couples on the dance floor.

  As George whirled her around, she caught an occasional glimpse of Blanche talking to Michael Peterson from the corner of her eye. The woman that had previously been speaking to him had gone. George spoke incessantly as they danced but Laura hardly heard a word he was saying as she scoured the room. She couldn’t see the woman anywhere amongst the crowd. Perhaps they were just friends, after all.

  Almost as soon as the music stopped, Blanche approached, took Laura’s arm, and began to lead her through the crowd.

  ‘Stop bullying the girl, why don’t you, woman?’ George said, trudging along behind.

  ‘Oh you silly old fool, you should know by now that I know what I’m doing. Come along, my dear.’

  ‘Mrs Merryweather – Blanche, I know you mean well, but this is a little… well, don’t you think it makes me look a little desperate?’ Laura sighed, sandwiched between the two of them as they pushed their way to the corner of the barn.

  ‘Nonsense, he’s very eager to meet you. Come along.’

  Within seconds they’d crossed the dance floor and Laura found herself gazing up into his eyes. He was six feet tall at least.

  ‘Michael, I’d like you to meet a friend of mine, Laura Mitchell,’ Blanche announced, with a satisfied expression on her face. ‘Laura, this is Michael Peterson.’

  ‘Hi, I’m pleased to meet you,’ Laura said. Her cheeks, though not visibly, felt flushed, as if she were a teenager again.

  ‘Hi Laura,’ he said smiling warmly. It was a nice smile, Laura thought. ‘You live at the old Coopers place don’t you?’

  ‘Uh, yes I do. How did you...?’

  ‘It’s a small place, there’s not much that goes on around here I don’t know about, especially as I’m the only lawyer in town. So what do you think of Brooksville?’

  ‘I love it – it’s perfect.’

  ‘Come along George, let’s leave these young people to get to know one another,’ said Blanche, giving the couple a knowing smile as she led her husband back onto the dance floor.

  There was a brief silence once they had been left alone. Laura looked around the room awkwardly at first, until their eyes met and she smiled. The smile turned into a nervous laugh.

  Michael laughed with her. ‘Look, I know you’re embarrassed, but don’t be, I know this had nothing to do with you. Blanche means well, but she can be a little pushy at times. Still, on this occasion I’m glad she was.’

  Laura smiled again but said nothing, Was he flirting with her? She had absolutely no idea.

  ‘How about a drink?’ Michael asked.

  ‘Yes, I think that’s a good idea. I could certainly use one right now.’

  The punch bowl had been refilled and Laura watched intently as Michael ladled the blood red liquid and fruit segments into two glasses. ‘I hope you don’t mind me asking, but I’m guessing you’ve been on your own for a while.’

  Laura’s eyes widened. ‘Yep, you’re a lawyer alright!

  ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…’

  ‘It’s okay. But does it show that much?’

  ‘No, of course not, you just seem a little nervous that’s all.’

  Nervous didn’t even cut it. ‘I guess you’re right – I am.’

  ‘Divorced?’

  ‘No – widowed actually.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry.’

  Laura peered into her drink and cleared he
r throat, the furrows in her brow revealing tell-tale signs of deep anxiety. ‘How about you,’ she said, desperate to change the subject. Have you ever been married?’

  ‘No, never, just never had the time I guess.’

  ‘Hmm, but no shortage of female company, right?’

  ‘Well…’

  Laura inwardly kicked herself. ‘Oh I’m sorry, that must have sounded awful. Look, maybe I should go before I say anything else stupid.’

  Michael laughed and took a step towards her, allowing a tall, faceless ghost access to the punch bowl. ‘No don’t be silly – It’s okay. I’ve had female friends, of course, but I haven’t had one relationship that I could call serious.’

  ‘Look, you don’t have to explain anything to me, it really doesn’t matter.’

  ‘Well it matters to me, I wouldn’t want you to think of me as the town gigolo.’

  Laura’s insides twisted in embarrassment. ‘I didn’t think that, really I didn’t.’

  ‘Well that’s a relief.’ And there it was again; that smile, the slight crinkling of the skin around his eyes. Laura gulped at her drink, her head a little fuzzy.

  ‘How are you two getting along?’

  Blanche Merryweather, appearing from thin air it seemed, was suddenly beside them. Laura tried her best to look pleased to see her, but somewhere deep inside, a knot was unravelling. Regardless of how awkward she felt, she really was beginning to enjoy Michael’s company.

  ‘We’re getting on very well, Michael said, and just as Blanche did a double-take at the ghost leaving the table, Michael turned to Laura and winked. ‘Actually, we were just about to have a dance, so if you’ll excuse us...’ He took Laura’s half-empty glass and offered her his arm. ‘Shall we?’

  The rest of the evening passed by in a heady blur. It would have been all too easy to forget the time, but glancing at her watch, Laura drew the evening to an earlier close than she would have liked, and certainly earlier than Michael would have wished for. It was only ten-thirty, but she’d promised Maggie she would home by eleven.