Hide and Seek (4 page)

CHAPTER 8

14:00pm

Peter stared in disbelief at the ringing phone for a few seconds and then answere
d it with an uncertain ‘Hello?’

There was silence at the other end of the line for a further few seconds and then a meta
llic electronic voice rang out.

‘Hello Peter. How
’s your head this morning?’

Peter felt a little perturbed by the distorted voice but immediately assumed that it was Steve playing another practical joke. He decided he would go along with it although he was really not in the mood for more games and the fact that he had to catch his train in an hour w
as playing heavily on his mind.

‘My head’s a little hazy. We must have drunk a lot Steve. I feel like I was drugged. I can hardly remember anyt
hing about last night. What...’

The dis
embodied voice interrupted him.

‘You
were
drugged. The hazy head and eye stinging is an after effect.’

A creeping suspicion that the person on the phone was not Steve entered his
mind.

‘W
hat do you mean I was drugged?’

‘I had to get you out of the way for a few h
ours whilst I set up the game.’

Peter felt himself becoming angry, if this was another of Steve’s jokes he
was seriously not in the mood.

‘What game? What are you on a
bout? Who is this?’

‘You can call me Celo.’

Peter searched his mind for some relevance to the name but drew a blank. As if reading his mind Celo elaborated.

‘It
’s Latin, meaning to hide, conceal, keep secret.’

Peter responded half-heartedly and a little sarcastically, he w
as quickly boring of this game.

‘Okay, that’s nice.’

‘I thought that seeing as though all seven surviving members of the Excellent Eight are in town, that we should all play a game just like we used to.’

Peter could feel his agitati
on levels creeping up again.

‘I haven’t got time for this shit. I have to catch a train in an hour. I’m n
ot playing any games with you.’

The electronic voice snapped back furiously, ‘You will play the game
or all your friends will die.’

The sudden outburst stunned Peter into silence.
Then Celo lowered his tone, regained composure and spoke again calmly.

‘Listen carefully. We are going to play a game of Hide and Seek. Do you remember we all used to love playing that
?’

Peter didn’t respond.

‘Well, the other six members of the Excellent Eight are hidden in separate places within the town and you, Peter Stevenson, are the seeker. They are hidden in places where we played as children and I’ll give you a clue to find each one of them. But you only have a certain amount of time to find them. If you take too long to find any individual person then I’m afraid that member will die.’

Peter’s head was awash with
scrabbled thoughts, unable to fully comprehend what was being said to him. He was still half hoping that this was some form of elaborate hoax. Again, as if reading his mind, Celo went on.

‘I realise that this is a lot to take in. And that you might be half hoping this is still just one of Steve’s pranks. So I
’d like you to check the oven in the kitchen. That should put to rest any doubts you have about the seriousness of the game. I’ll call you back in a few minutes with further instructions.’

The phone went silent as Celo hung up
, leaving Peter standing on the spot with the phone pressed against his ear, knuckles white. He turned and looked towards the kitchen with trepidation and slowly started to walk towards it. He placed the phone on the kitchen work surface and stared at the oven wondering what could be inside. Before he knew it he realised one of his own hands was clenching the cool handle of the oven door. He tensed and squinted as he started to pull the handle down, dropping down on one knee to look inside, not knowing what to expect, as if a bomb might go off in his face.

Inside the dark oven he could see a baking tray.
Something sat in the middle of it. He pinched two fingers like tweezers and carefully gripped the edges of the baking tray. He was half expecting it to be hot but the oven was off, the tray cold. As his fingers investigated he felt the distinctive crumpled shiny surface of foil lining the tray. He started to edge it out onto the open oven door and could see a pool of thick black oil around the outskirts of the object. He realised that it was not oil, but congealed blood. He pulled the tray out fully. Sat in the middle was a dismembered arm, the skin discoloured with a slightly blue and purple tint. The arm had been cut off at the elbow joint, the knuckles white and blue on the clenched fist.

Peter stumbled back on himself in shock, knocking the tray. It flipped over and off the side of the oven door and the arm landed with a sickening wet thud as spatters of congealed blood splashed across the floor. The tray noisily clattered on the
tiles. He shimmied backwards away from the mess, his back bumping heavily into the legs of the kitchen table, his eyes transfixed on the bloodied arm. His stomach shuddered and he retched as the smell filtered into his nostrils. He jumped to his feet and crouched over the sink, retching again. He fumbled with the tap and splashed water in his face and grabbed cupfuls of water to drink. He looked down at the bloodied arm and his heart dropped as he saw a tattoo inked into the underside of the arm which read ‘The long arm of the law’ in italic writing. It was the same tattoo that Colin had shown them last night.

Peter remembered that Colin had challenged Cas to an arm wrestle. Colin had always been a slim child with no muscles but through his time with the police force he
’d bulked up considerably. Colin rolled back his shirt sleeve and propped his arm on the table goading Cas to prove he was still the arm wrestling champion of the group. Cas accepted the challenge and clasped hands with Colin. Michelle, Cheryl and Laura rolled their eyes at the stereotypical male bravado.

‘Boys will always be boys,’ Cheryl chided
, but the men ignored her.

Peter could see that Colin already had doubts simply from the grip Cas had on him. Cas knew this too and as they waited for Steve to count them down he looked into Colin’s eyes and smiled. The contest w
as over in a matter of seconds.

‘Not bad Col, but not good
enough.’

Colin’s pride was obviously wounded but he accept
ed his defeat with good humour.

‘I
’ll get you one of these days.’

Cas then spotted the ink on the underside of Colin’s exposed arm. Colin explained that he and four of his colleagues had all got the same tattoo on the day they graduated.

Peter shakily pulled a chair out from the kitchen table and slumped into it, breathing out
heavily to try and control his nausea. He looked down again at the arm laid in the pool of blood. The open wound at the elbow joint was facing towards him and he was surprised how neat the cut was. From years of watching gory horror movies he had expected veins to be hanging out like entrails but it looked like it had been sliced through cleanly. Questions were jumbling through his mind like a washing machine. He couldn’t concentrate on answering one question before another tumbled along. Where was the rest of Colin? Was he still alive?

Peter jumped as the mobil
e phone emitted a hum and started to rattle on the work surface and a second later the William Tell ringtone began to echo out again.

CHAPTER 9

14:09pm

Peter lifted himself up from the chair, his hand stretched out on the table giving him extra support, his legs weak. He felt like he was learning to walk again. He stumbled around the dismembered arm cautiously, as if it might suddenly come to life and lunge at him. He scrambled for the phone, never taking his eyes off the arm.

The metallic electronic voice spoke.

‘Now you know why Colin’s handwriting looked a little different on the note left for you.’

‘Why are you doing this?’

‘I told you, we’re playing a game. Don’t worry; the rest of Colin is alive and well. For now at least. But as you’ve probably guessed that all depends on you Peter. There’s something in Colin’s clenched hand which will help you with the game.’

Peter stared down at the white knuckles of the clenched fist.

‘Now we should go over the rules of the game. Are you listening Peter? Are you focussed?’

‘Yes,’ Peter muttered.

‘Good. The rules are quite simple. You must keep this phone with you at all times. It is the only way I will contact you and the only way you can receive the clues that will help you find each member of the Excellent Eight. Do you understand?’

‘Yes,’ Peter said quietly, he felt like a child being told off by a teacher. Celo continued.

‘I notice that you’ve already reacquainted yourself with The Sheriff but be warned that this game is for members of the Excellent Eight only. No grown-ups allowed. You will not involve anyone else in the game or tell them anything about me. If you do it will be considered an immediate forfeit and the game will be null and void. For the purposes of clarification, if you involve anyone else in this game
all
the players
will
die. If you involve the police or are questioned by the police
all
the players
will
die. Do you understand Peter?’

‘Why are you doing this?’

Celo ignored the question and persisted.

‘Do you understand the rules of the game Peter?’

Peter responded resignedly.

‘Yes, I understand.’

‘Good, then here is your first clue. It’s a place where you used to go with the boys and the girls. Stacked houses so high they touch the sky. Don’t play on the stairs or you will cry. Colin Clark has bad memories of this place.’

Peter looked blankly at the window as he gripped the phone tightly.

‘What? I don’t understand.’

Celo responded, ‘
Think about it Peter, I’m sure you’ll remember. You have until three o’clock to find and save him, the game starts …
now
.’

Celo paused for a second and then added ‘Ready or not.’

The phone call ended and Peter was left staring blankly at the window, the phone gripped tightly in one hand. His arm dropped to his side as he swung giddily on the spot. He felt sick. What was he going to do?

He thought first of Colin, and then about the other members of the Excellent Eight. He was the seeker, Gavin was dead, and then there was Cas, Laura, Colin, Michelle, Cheryl and Steve. This maniac had six of his friends. He ran through to the living room and to the front bay window, as if for some reason The Sheriff would still be there but of course he wasn’t. He looked down at the phone in his hand. A voice was shouting in his head for him to call the police but Celo’s words
were louder. ‘If you involve the police or are questioned by the police all the players will die,’ he had said. Who could he ring? Who could he trust? Would Celo find out? Was he watching him right now? All of a sudden it felt like the room had gone icy cold as he looked around the foreign surroundings. He looked towards the kitchen, and thought of the severed arm lying on the floor, Colin’s arm.

Peter tried to rationalise the thoughts flying through his mind. Celo knew that Peter had met The Sheriff
, which had to mean he must be watching the house. He looked through the front bay window again and stared out onto the street. Opposite Colin and Michelle’s house were a couple of shops with flats above them. Was he hiding in one of them, watching him right now? But Celo had mentioned the handwriting on the note exactly as if he had heard what The Sheriff and him had discussed. Perhaps the house was bugged?

Peter started to frantically search for something
that would confirm this, lifting magazines, looking inside lightshades, checking under the sofa and the armchairs. He found nothing.

‘This is useless.’

He didn’t really know what he was looking for. What did a bug look like? And even if he did find a bug, what would that tell him? Nothing he didn’t already know. He sat down on the floor, rubbing his fingers through his scalp, exhaling loudly to try and calm the feeling of nausea in his stomach. Who would have access to bugging equipment? The first answer to his own question was the very people he wanted to call right now.

‘The police.’

Then he closed his mouth suddenly in realisation that if the house was bugged Celo could hear him right now. Peter stood up. He started shuffling on the spot with nervous energy, as if this would make him think more clearly. The police have bugging equipment, he thought. Colin might have access to bugging equipment from the station. And then he stopped suddenly on the spot. What if it was The Sheriff? Would he really come round to check on two grown-ups? Even if they were family? But then, why would he be doing this? What would he have against his own son-in-law? Except for thinking he was a ‘stupid lazy bastard’ not good enough for his daughter. And why would he involve his daughter in this? What could he have against the members of the Excellent Eight? His mind flicked back to The Sheriff’s reaction when he had mentioned Steve coming back to the house. He had seemed surprised by that. He’d then phoned Steve. Why would The Sheriff have Steve’s mobile number? His finger hovered over the 9 button to dial 999. He hesitated. Something was bugging him about The Sheriff’s reaction to Steve coming back to the house.

He remembered a conversation last night
when Cas had asked him whether he’d noticed anything strange going on between Steve and Michelle. Peter hadn’t noticed anything untoward and hadn’t realised what Cas was suggesting at the time but the question had led him to watch the pair more closely. He’d then noticed that they didn’t speak to each other directly all night; as if they were avoiding each other. But he had also caught them looking at each other when they thought other people’s attention was elsewhere. Something must have happened between Steve and Michelle. He had no idea when they had slept together, or whether they were still sleeping together or whether Colin knew about it. Whenever Peter caught Steve and Michelle looking at each other, he would look straight away to Colin but he didn’t seem aware of anything and kept himself engrossed in conversation with the others. A sickening thought entered his mind. He recalled a conversation between the group when they had all returned to Colin and Michelle’s house. The conversation had turned onto the topic of babies. He and Laura had dispensed their wisdom and advice based on their own parenting experiences. They had also simultaneously confirmed the common mantra, as a light-hearted warning, that Colin and Michelle’s life would never be the same once the baby was born. Peter recalled that Colin had proudly patted his wife’s stomach with a wide smile.

‘I don’t care, I’ll just be glad when she’s here. We’ve wanted a baby so long. We’d almost given up an
d then boom, it just happened.’

Peter recalled the smile on Michelle’s face. It had not been a beaming grin of pride. He
’d initially thought it was a shy smile at the fact that Colin had been rather upfront and given slightly too much detail about their obvious struggles to have a child. Now he realised he might have misinterpreted it; that it was, in fact, a nervous smile of guilt. He now wished he’d looked at Steve to gauge his reaction to the comments.

‘Jesus Christ.’

He wondered if Michelle had confessed her sins to her father, The Sheriff. His finger moved away from the 9 button and he put the phone on the mantelpiece. He slumped down into the armchair. He put his head in his hands as conspiracy theories emerged from hidden corners of his mind, like people whispering in the shadows of a dark alleyway.

His mind flashed back to reality as if he had slammed the door shut to escape the whispering conspiracies. He had almost forgotten about the immediate threat to Colin. He picked up the phone to look at the time, the display read 14.18pm. He only had 42 minutes to find Colin. He wondered what would happen if he didn’t get there on time
. Would Colin really be killed? He wasn’t certain, but thinking about the severed arm, it was a possibility.

He tried to recall
the clue from Celo.

‘A place where you used to go with the boys and the girls. Okay, that means it must be somewhere where we used to play as kids. Stacked hous
es so high they touch the sky?’

There was only one place that could be
.