A Chance Mistake (12 page)

Chapter 17

After being immersed in company, Dafina felt strangely alone after Kory left. Even Griff’s ears folded back as a mournful decree. She headed for her closet to gather the stuffing, clothing, and odds and ends that made up Pops. She found the gourd, that used to be Pop’s head, in the closet corner and rushed it to the garbage. It hit the bottom of the can with a plunk. She stood there looking at it. What was she to do without a head? She didn’t fancy the idea of another one that could spoil.

She thought of the possibilities—and of course she’d do her best to make it look like Kory. Clay would be too heavy for the body. Paper maché too messy. Hmm…she had a pair of pantyhose. She could cut off a piece, slip stuffing inside, and stitch it to form the facial features. She giggled at the thought.

After an hour and a half, Pops was reconstructed with a rather lumpy, potato-like head. She sat him at the table and put a brown hat on his head. At least some of the ugly bumps were covered. Pops in no way resembled Kory. Sad that. But from the back, the dummy did look like a relatively living man. She positioned Pops, so that anyone looking in the window would see the back of him sitting at the table while reading the paper.

What a sad state of affairs to have to rely on a dummy. She let out an exasperated sigh.

She retrieved
The Unseen
from her bedroom where she’d kept Kory’s book under her pillow. She’d decided to keep close reign on it, so no other pages would go missing. Men. American men. American, male, horror novelists.

She made a big cup of tea, and settled in her favorite chair. All the time in the world was hers to use for reading. On the positive side, being home without houseguests was rather freeing. No need to worry about kitchen appliances or bathrooms being clean. No worries about snacks or meals, dirty laundry, or making up conversations.

No one to help her, entertain her, or pretend like he loved her.

“I still have you, Griff, aye?” She scratched the dog behind his ears. When she stopped, he whimpered. “Kory spoiled you, didn’t he? You like having a man ‘round the house. Now all you have is Pops.”

Griff scampered off to his food bowl. No telling what he thought she said.

She opened the book and began to read. Carl, even though much time had passed, obsessed over the platinum princess. According to the world she was a missing person. Since the event of her passing, the shadows no longer haunted him which sent him into a quandary as to why. He was fraught with misgivings about what really happened. He delved deeper into Einstein’s theories, rocket technology, and any article he could find on space-time anomalies, and time travel.

Griff jumped up on her lap and bumped the dog-eared novel. “Want to have a go at the book? I’m sure a couple of teeth marks won’t hurt.” She teased. “Can you believe? Time travel. If anyone can do it, I’m sure it would be Kory—I mean—Carl.”

The corgi sighed and wiggled for a good spot on the chair. What was Carl’s aim? Was the princess taken to another time or dimension? She turned on a light and found her place on the page. About one third of the book to go. She’d sit in her chair until she came to the end. How had she ever thought she could read it all before he left?

Ah, Kory. At least he’d said he would stop to see her before he went home to New York. She smiled thinking of the things that had slipped from his backpack and ended up in a far corner of her room. He’d be back. He would.

The next morning Dafina felt the lingering fatigue from staying awake too far into the night, but she’d finished the book. She suffered a difficult time at work, nodding off when the store turned quiet—unfortunately, most of the time. Inactivity was the worst, so she straightened and reorganized. Gweneth had a shipment of new books for her to unload. Dafina promised herself not to look at any handsome author’s pictures. And if the men wandered into the store, she didn’t want to know.

Kory had been truthful about the book being over the top, and plot twists, but there wasn’t even one butler in the story. She bit back a smile. His cracking sense of humor. What kind of brilliant mind did it take to write a book like that? It gladdened her heart that in the end Carl was reunited with his love. If
The Unseen
had ended badly, Kory would have a lot of explaining to do—or maybe none at all if she left his belongings outside the door.

She’d finished displaying the new books on the aisle end caps, when Fanny rushed in. The older woman headed right for her.

“Well.” Fanny’s face was flushed the same color as her red shirt. “I finished
The Unseen
, I did. Did you?”

“Aye.” Dafina nodded. “What did you think?”

“What did I think? What
did
I think
?” Her face took on a deeper shade. “I thought it was a horror story, not a love story. I’m a Christian woman, I am. I don’t go for…
you know
.”

“What do you mean? I didn’t see anything out of place.”
Oh—no.
She hadn’t paid any attention to the page numbers. Kory. He’d taken out more pages.

Fanny gasped for air.

“My book…funny thing about my book. I think it’s the young adult version.” Dafina tried to explain. “It didn’t have the scene that yours has—if I think I know what you mean. The love scene went too far?”

“Too far? Blimey, sakes! Do you want to borrow my copy to see what you missed?”

“I don’t.” Dafina shook her head. But she couldn’t stop wondering what offended Fanny. A lengthy kissing scene? Or much more? Had to be much more. She hated to think about it.
Kory Slate, what have you done?
Maybe he would find his journal and passport outside her door when he returned.

After Fanny purchased another Kory Slate book and left with a smile, Dafina found herself standing in front of the shelf, housing the remainder of Kory’s books. Of course
The Unseen
was sold out, and she didn’t want to alert Gweneth to the fact. Or did she? She picked up another of his books.
A Bad Day in the Park.
Hmm. Nice. The cover sported bare, twisted trees at night, of course, and a full moon. All covered with a spraying of eerie fog. She did a double take. Ever so subtly the trees had human-like faces.

She carried the novel to the register. No pages torn out, but still a safe read. Kory had practically begged her to read any of his other books instead of
The Unseen
. And Fanny hadn’t purchased a copy of
A Bad Day in the Park
. Yet. So Dafina wouldn’t have to worry about her customer’s editorial comments. She smiled broadly as she held the book, but it wasn’t the anticipated story that brought her happiness. She’d be able to hear Kory’s voice in her mind as she read. That was the ticket.

****

Stifling a yawn from awaking too early, Kory surveyed information on castles at a corner store. The mammoth structures with pristine interiors overwhelmed him with their design and beauty—from posh bedrooms to tapestry laden hallways and dining rooms. Stained glass windows appeared as priceless jewels. Treasures so rich and brilliant, it almost hurt. He was drawn to the pure colors, allowing his to mind drift and wonder about the scenes of knights, the battles they fought…the women they loved.

Further in the booklet, his eyes caught pictures of castle ruins. Abandoned, forlorn, and broken places. Then he knew that’s what he wanted to see. Ruins being reclaimed by the earth and elements. There he could meditate.

A shoe scuffed as it caught against a low metal shelf. A man’s gray-jacketed back slipped out of sight. The shape of the shorter figure seemed oddly familiar. Long torso supported by short legs. Shorty. Had to be coincidence, right? He and Green Laces were long gone. Maybe the police already had them.

Kory bought the travel booklet and gave a quick glance for signs of Shorty and Laces. Nothing. He headed to the bus and stepped aboard, unfortunate enough to get a heavy dose of exhaust fumes.

Even though morning had arrived, the low dark clouds put him in mind of dusk. The sort of dusk that never ended. There he could get caught in a mindless time-loop, an eternity of nothingness, riding a bus to nowhere. Land and clouds rushing by endlessly. Waiting for the bus to stop, but of course, it never would. A form of everlasting purgatory.

Stop!
He swallowed hard.

Couldn’t he ever have normal thoughts? Was it all to be like written prose?

He plunked down into the seat, orange suitcase on his lap. Backpack on top of said suitcase. He frowned. How to get rid of a narrator? Not easy when it was his very thoughts.

He looked through his backpack for the leather journal. He had to write or go insane. After a frantic search, the realization hit that he’d have to fight off going crazy or enjoy the spiral slide down. His journal had to be sitting on Dafina’s bedroom floor.

Please don’t read it.
He
focused the words Dafina’s way; hopeful, yet certain it wouldn’t do any good.

The bus ventured out into the countryside which in itself seemed familiar like the United States. Trees, hills, mountains, the earthy terrain. The stone structures and old-world feel singled out the difference that he was encompassed in a foreign land. Traveling on the left side of the road also a good indicator. He avoided getting off at any of the villages, waiting until the mood struck him. If it didn’t strike him for the whole day, fine. Part of him wanted to scope out the land, villages, and cities. After all, he had no preconceived idea of how all the vacation should go down.

He’d told Dafina that he would return to see her in a week or two weeks at the latest. Her calm expression turned to a slightly furrowed brow as she’d contemplated his words. “Two weeks?” she said. “How will I know if some trouble ‘appens to you? Will you phone?”

“I’ll be fine,” he reassured her, but she’d remained unconvinced even though they had each other’s phone numbers. Uh, oh. He’d written her number in the journal.

The clouds lingered, but patches of sunlight hit the highway. Surely a good omen this time.
Please.
He replayed the memory of Dafina hugging him goodbye and focused on the yellow-orange sunlight on the meadows.

Chapter 18

Two weeks had slipped by rather quickly. Had the passing time been the same for Kory? Dafina picked up her mobile, debating whether to call and put it back into her purse. Even though it was perfectly fine for a woman to call a man, she determined against it and headed outside to her postbox. He hadn’t said that he’d call, but she assumed he would.

She looked across her front yard and flower gardens. Biggins wasn’t anywhere to be seen, but she still kept an eye out for either him or Hoover. The man did own fine qualities both inside and out. Since he was both kind and handsome, why didn’t he have a girlfriend? Perhaps he shared the same condition as she. A recent breakup and not falling for just anyone. Although the chap had appeared to have his sights set on her.

And what of Kory? He never had said anything about his girlfriends. How could a catch like him not have one? She stepped up to the postbox and opened the green drop-down door. Bills. Typical. Thank goodness, Kory helped her out with the grocer and gave her money for any other expense.

What if some tragedy had befallen him? A bothersome thought she’d had every other day. She’d give him twenty-four hours, and then she’d call. She had an inkling he’d arrive today because precisely two weeks had gone by. He seemed the punctual sort, deadlines and all that.

She puttered around in her kitchen and whisked together a wonderful treacle sponge. Kory would be sure to love the tasty treat. After the cake came out of the oven, she put in a roast with vegetables. If he hadn’t fallen in love with her yet, the meal certainly wouldn’t hurt. Maybe they’d even get married, and she’d be able to keep the house and cottage.

Griff scampered around her feet, and she felt a pang of guilt. The property shouldn’t have come to mind quite so fast. Her thought should have ran more along the lines of maybe they’d want to spend the rest of their lives together—no matter where they lived and get married. Possessions should never get in the way. “But it would be great to have a nice place for us to live? Right, Griff.”

He pranced around in a circle.

“Yes, I know you like it ‘ere. Me, too.” But of course she was getting ahead of herself. She thought Kory loved her because of the way he treated her, but he only acted that way to play the part of a husband. She had to get the fact through her thick skull.

A couple of hours later, she pulled the roast out of the oven. Griff practically smiled and licked his chops. She laughed. “I know. Jolly mouth-watering, it is. Shouldn’t Kory be knocking on the door by now?”

She glanced out the kitchen window, just to catch a glimpse of him heading to the front porch. “Are you having me on?” She laughed out of pure joy.

She hurried to the front door and opened it. Her bright smile faded, when confronted by the expression on Kory’s face.

“Close the door, quick! And lock it.”

How could she close the door and lock it with him still outside? His frantic command to her moved her to haste, but it was too late. An unknown figure in a ski mask prevented her from shutting the door. She thrust the heel of her hand to masked person’s throat sending him reeling backward, gasping for air. She only regretted that she couldn’t use her full force due to the strange angle. Another taller man with the same head gear held a gun to Kory’s forehead. No, not a gun pointed at Kory. Nausea took over. She felt her vision start to go and had an odd sensation that she was falling.

Kory said something in an urgent voice and everything went black.

Someone pulled at her arms. At first she thought he was Kory, but the hands were rigid, unyielding. She opened her eyes, but darkness covered her peripheral vision.

Fading in and out, she saw that they were heading to the basement and down the steps. Her head dropped and her sight turned dark.

Kory waited for Dafina to regain consciousness, hating the emotions that held him in a vice. His insides raged over Dafina being caught up in the madness of Shorty and Green Laces. The two had to be desperate, insane, or plain dumb as a box of rocks. They had changed their attire from muddy browns and grays to dark colors, but Kory knew from their builds, posture, and stride that it was them. Green Laces changed out the tattered green for neon blue shoe laces. But really, buddy? The same shoes with the same scuff marks. Duh.

Glancing around at the blackness of the basement and the gravel on the floor, Kory had the odd feeling that he’d always known he’d end up there. Was it a premonition of his last moments on earth? If it wasn’t, that was exactly what it felt like. Or déjà vu from a nightmare, or a scene he’d never had the guts to write.

He returned his focus to Dafina.
Please, God. Protect her. Put a hedge of protection around her.
He hated that her lovely hair was sprawled on the gravel, and her body lay unceremoniously in a heap as Laces let her drop. Then he bound her wrists and ankles with duct tape and put a strip across her mouth while Shorty held a gun on Kory. Next he was bound in the same manner.

Kory clenched his jaw. All he wanted to do was pummel him, well both of them. Surely they could see it in his eyes. What had they hoped to gain? The men headed upstairs to do who knew what. Watch TV?

A clicking, thumping noise sounded at the steps and made its way down. Griff—bless the dog’s heart.
Please, Lord. Protection for him, too.
Kory didn’t understand why he couldn’t pray for his own safety. Perhaps he had the feeling that he deserved all of the trouble, but he sent a weak prayer up for himself anyway.

Griff snuggled close to Dafina and licked her chin. Her fingers twitched, and she struggled to sit up. She leaned against a supporting beam and faced Kory as he sat nearby against a wall. Her eyes became sad and frightened when she fully regained consciousness.

He tried to will his thoughts to her that he cared about her and would do anything within his power to protect her. Could she see the strength of his emotion? He had no idea of how long they looked into each other’s eyes as if holding onto each other’s soul. Her expression of fear turned to soft kindness. His love for her grew exponentially, by leaps and bounds. Was she feeling the same?

He wrenched his wrists to try to free himself with no luck. There wasn’t any rain this time to help loosen his bonds. He forced his tongue through his lips to try to loosen the tape and opened his mouth. The adhesive pulled loose from his lower lip and chin. Laces hadn’t pressed down hard enough on the tape to make a good seal, but it still clung to his upper lip.

“I got part of the tape loosened,” he said quietly. “Work with it and see if you can, too.”

Her eyebrows furrowed as she moved her jaw. A glint of surprise sparked in her eyes. “It worked,” she whispered, and tried to wipe her cheek with a shoulder. “Is it the same two darrens that bothered you before?”

He nodded, unable to put it in words. The whole thing, surreal.

“What do they want?”

“I’m sorry, Dafina. I don’t know. Is there anything down here—sharp that we can use to get the duct tape off? Anything for a weapon?”

“Not that I know of, but maybe if I—” She scooted the short distance across the gravel and sat next to him. Good that she wore sturdy jeans instead of lightweight skirt. “Maybe I can tear your duct tape enough that you can force your ‘ands apart?”

“It’s worth a try. Your fingernails are a bit longer.” A pathetic tease. He leaned forward and turned at an angle away from her, so she could get at his wrists.

Her fingers touched his. “So you know. I’m fond of you, Kory Slate. You’re the best ‘usband I ever had.” The smile came through in her voice.

His heart warmed and he shifted, so he could lean over to press his duct taped lips against hers, but not too hard to make the tape stick down again. A feather light gesture. In spite of everything, she laughed, bringing him hope.

She went back to work on the binding around his wrists. The only way he could imagine was that she used her thumbnail and index fingernail to worry against it, making it weak and easier to tear.

A bleating sound and hooves clamoring against the tile floor sounded above them.

Dafina whispered, “What on earth? Is it Biggins they ‘ave upstairs?”

“Sure sounds like it.”

The bleating became almost frantic, then a slamming, chopping noise. Kory swallowed hard, his imagination filling in the rest. How could he help it? He wrote horror. The sickening noise continued, then silence. His ears strained to hear anything.

“What do you think ‘appened?” The words soft in his ear.

“Nothing good.”

Footfalls came from the top of the stairs. Shorty stood on the landing and flung something at them and laughed an eerie sound. Not one filled with happiness, but with wickedness. He flashed a light on the debris, so they were sure to see it. Ragged hunks of bloody meat. The man retreated back up the stairs.

Dafina turned her head away. “Never did like Biggins, but…you know I’d never turn him into a roast.”

“They are insane,” Kory muttered. Had to be their idea of having fun. His stomach hurt, but his blood pumped, ready to do battle.

Shorty and Laces returned, heading down the steps. Not good. Adrenalin made his head throb and pound. Kory had to hold it together.

“If we get separated, don’t worry. I’ll find you,” he said softly in her ear.

She nodded and took in a breath.

Shorty held a gun and motioned to Laces. The taller man pulled something out of his pocket, snickering like an idiot and shoved it near Kory’s face.
What the heck?
Laces had the two pages that Kory had torn from
The Unseen.
The man pointed at each page then pointed to Dafina.
Oh, God,
Kory prayed.
No. Please, no!
They would use his story against him to hurt Dafina.

Shorty and Laces were trying to get a rise out of him, and Kory was afraid they were getting it. His eyes had bugged in fear, then set in a determined glare. He purposely let his features and eyes go blank, becoming stupid like he had no idea what they were doing.

The men lifted Dafina to her feet and Laces picked her up while Shorty pointed the gun in Kory’s direction.

Kory caught Dafina’s expression in her eyes, worried that he would see fear, but instead he saw her tightening resolve and pure gut determination. Her eyes had turned to cold steel.

Griff was at odds what to do. He followed them up the stairs. Yet the dog made no move to attack the two men.

Kory never interceded in prayer as deeply as he prayed for Dafina’s safety and well being. He wrenched his hands in an attempt to free himself, but the tape held fast. Throwing his body toward a support beam, he ran the duct tape binding his wrists against the wooden corner. He worked feverishly, using the wooden edge like a saw, then yanked his hands apart. Still wouldn’t budge.

Minutes passed. How much time ticked by, he wasn’t sure. The friction had to do something—had to weaken some fibers of the tape. He tried again to free himself. Nothing. He tried another angle and felt it ripping. His hands were free. He quickly took the strip from his face and upper lip.
Yeow!
And freed his ankles.

Moonlight streamed down the steps through the backdoor window. He crept up the stairs, alert for any sound or movement. He heard absolutely nothing. How could Shorty and Laces be so quiet? He reached the landing and headed up the stairs to the kitchen door.

Slowly turning the doorknob, he prepared to be shot at. He opened the door a crack. The kitchen light was on. The visible part of the floor looked clean, no hoof marks or blood splatters. Poor Biggins, where was he? He opened the door a bit more. No one in sight. And the kitchen was clean. No goat carcass or any evidence of what took place. What exactly had happened?

Pops sat at the table reading a paper. But he did have a different soft looking head instead of the gourd head. He searched the other rooms, the front room, living room, Auntie’s bedroom, and hall. He crept to Dafina’s room and found her on the bed with Griff beside her. He rushed forward and gently took off the tape that covered her mouth.

“They’re gone.” She heaved a heavy sigh. “Scissors in the top drawer.” She motioned with her head.

“Are you sure they’re gone?” he asked. “But…” The whole thing was too weird. He found the scissors and released her from the bonds.

“I heard one of them say under his breath, ‘That’s it. We’re done.’ What could that possibly mean? Were they having us on? Biggins isn’t anywhere alive or dead.”

“One of them actually spoke?”

“Yes…and he sounded American.”

“They never said one word around me. I’m guessing they didn’t want me to know where they were from. The whole thing must have been a planned farce.” What they’d experienced paralleled his first unpublished book. Once he had the thought, he couldn’t get it out of his mind. Who stood to gain for having him tailed, for sending the
experience
of fear into his being? “It had to be my editor.”

“Why? It makes no sense.” Dafina walked beside him as he made his way through the house.