Broken (16 page)

The
Laughing Man went into the kitchen and began to search my cabinets. It took him
a few trips, but he eventually managed to set two places at the table with
plates, silverware, napkins, and drinking glasses. I hadn’t seen some of those
things in years. How long had it been since I’d set my own dinner table? Had I
ever
set my own dinner table?

When he
was finished the Laughing Man turned to me and heaved my chair around so I was
facing the table. Then he began sliding it forward. It was difficult work,
given that I was taped to the chair, but slowly and surely he got me into
position across from Emerson at the table. Here we were, just sitting down to
enjoy our imaginary dinner together. It might have looked like that to an
observer at first glance, before they got close enough to see the horrible
truth.

The
table set and all of his pieces in position, the Laughing Man took a third
chair at the table and sat down. He looked at me expectantly.

I looked
back at him. “Not your best work,” I said.

He
raised his gloved left palm in a “what can you do” expression. His right hand
toyed with the straight razor, snapping it open and closed. I watched him as
calmly as I could. He could kill me if he wanted to. I couldn’t stop him. But
he was never going to see fear from me. Never.

What was
he waiting for?

Finally
he bent forward toward me, just slightly. “Did you enjoy it?” he asked softly.
He had a tenor voice, nearly musical, both amplified and just slightly distorted
by the mask. It was exactly as I remembered it from our last confrontation.
That voice had haunted my nightmares.

I stared
at him. “What did you say?”

The
Laughing Man sighed quietly. “Your case.” He nodded at Emerson. “The game. Did
you enjoy it?”

That was
what this was about? He wanted to talk? Like we were old friends who had just
gotten together to catch up?

I
supposed that in a sick way, it was very much like that.

Well,
why
not
tell him? It wasn’t like I had anything better to do.

“I did,”
I admitted. “I honestly did.” I shook my head. “It was good to feel like I was
doing something worthwhile.”

“Good,”
the Laughing Man said. “I’m glad.”

“I knew
you were watching me,” I said. “All the things you sent me in the last three
years, the cards, the notes. I knew you were out there. I never realized how
close you were…”

“I was
waiting,” the Laughing Man cut me off. He sounded very nearly mournful now. “I’ve
missed
our
game, and I’ve been very patient with you, Nevada James. Very
patient, but…” He raised the straight razor, looked at it meaningfully, then
looked back at me. “Now I have to ask you. Are you back?”

I
understood him now. If I said no he’d cut my throat and be done with it.  All
of this would be over. My pain, my nightmares, my shame. It would be so easy and
I probably wouldn’t even feel it. One slice and I’d be done.

And he’d
go find another playmate.

I’d have
been lying if I said I wasn’t tempted. Or if I said I didn’t want it. I’d been
killing myself for the last three years, hadn’t I? Why not let him finish me
off?

Because
it wasn’t going to be him that did it. When our story was over, it would be me
standing over this fucker’s body. Not the other way around. He didn’t
get
to kill me. When I died it would be on my own terms, not his.

I looked
him in the eyes. “I’m back,” I said.

The
Laughing Man lowered the razor and stood up. He crossed over to where I sat and
put  a hand on my shoulder. As he looked down at me I saw his eyes were almost
gentle now. “Finally,” he said. The relief in his voice was audible.

“Cut
this tape off me and I’ll show you how back I am,” I offered. I knew he’d never
do it, of course. That wasn’t how the Laughing Man played the game.

I heard
him chuckle softly through the mask. Then he straightened up and went into the
kitchen where the cordless phone sat in its cradle. He picked it up and brought
it over to where I sat, clicked it on, and dialed 911. Then he put the phone
down on the table in front of me, patted me once on the shoulder, and walked
away. I heard him open and close my front door. In ten minutes he could be
having coffee on the other side of the city and nobody would have any idea of
the monster that was in their midst, hiding in plain sight.

The
emergency operator’s voice was barely audible through the phone’s speaker. “My
name is Nevada James,” I said. “I need help.” I didn’t know if she could
understand me or not, but it didn’t matter. A police cruiser would be
dispatched in under a minute. The cops would be here in five more. They’d break
in and find me, and see what the Laughing Man had done. After three years in
the darkness, he was finally back. The Laughing Man was back.

And so
was I.

“I am
back,” I said out loud. “Goddamn right I’m back.”

Game
on
.

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Want to find out what happens next?
Scars
is now available
for Kindle. If you’d like to check it out and download a free sample,
please click here
.

ALSO BY MATTHEW STORM

The Interesting Times Series

Interesting Times

Interesting Places

Nevada James Mysteries

Broken

Scars

The Riley Flynn Series (as M.J. Storm)

Riley Flynn and the Runaway Fairy

ABOUT
THE AUTHOR

Matthew Storm lives above a bar in Tokyo. He
quit drinking vodka a very long time ago.

.