The Killing Game Read Online Free Page A
Author: Nancy Bush
Tags: Fiction, Suspense, Romance, Thrillers, Mystery & Detective, Women Sleuths, Crime, Private Investigators
property “as is” on a short sale and was prepared to make repairs. Digging in her purse for her new keys, she had to untangle them from her old ones. Then she threaded the key into the lock, only to have the door open before she even twisted it.
Unlocked?
Andi frowned. Had her Realtor forgotten to lock it? Or...
She checked the dead bolt and realized the jamb was broken out, making it impossible to lock it satisfactorily. Huh. She was pretty sure it hadn’t been that way before.
Her stomach clenched. She was worried the place had been broken in to by vandals, but a cursory glance from the porch into the living room/dining nook showed the place was undisturbed. Carefully, she stepped inside, walking through the first two rooms to the kitchen. It sported old, scarred linoleum and chipped gray Formica. The pine cabinets, with their black, rustic hinges, were just as sorry and beaten up as they’d been when she’d seen them the last time, just before closing. No vandalism she could detect.
She retraced her steps and headed down the short hallway toward the bedrooms. The second bedroom still smelled musty, and the dust on the bedstead and sagging mattress, “gifts” from the previous owner, looked as if it had been there since the ice age. The hall bath looked okay, and as she crossed into the master bedroom, she let out a pent-up breath.
Then her eye fell on the brown envelope lying atop the bare mattress on the bed. ANDREA was spelled out in block letters on its face. Andi’s brain tried to tell her that Edie, her Realtor, had left it for her, but no one addressed her as Andrea.
Her heartbeat quickened as she walked forward and picked up the envelope by its edge. Sliding a finger under the flap, which wasn’t glued down, she carefully pulled out the hard white notecard. More block letters:
LITTLE BIRDS NEED TO FLY.
She stared in confusion. What? She lost her grip and the card fluttered to the floor. Immediately she bent to pick it up, trying hard to be careful, but it took an effort to get it back in the envelope without smearing her own fingerprints on it. Her mouth was dry, spitless. She didn’t know what the words signified, but they sounded ominous. A play on her last name, she guessed, but what did they mean?
And who’d left it for her?
Gooseflesh rose on her arms and she scurried out to the safety of her car.
Chapter Two
I’ve made my first move. I want my opponent to get a first clue, a small inkling, nudge, worry, that the game’s afoot. I look around my special room and see the boxes of board games from my youth, dusty now from disuse. The old grinder, desktop computer where I once spent hours in play now sits idle. I don’t need any of them any longer.
I dream and strategize and plot. My vision is far in the future.
But there’s much to do.
* * *
The echoing sound of hammers greeted Andi as she drove along the chunky gravel that made up the temporary driveway to the lodge. The structure currently rose three stories, a skeleton of wood and steel that the framers were pounding at furiously. When the building was finished, the exterior would be shingles, the roof slate, similar in style to the lodge at Crater Lake National Park, though not nearly so grand in size. It had been Greg’s idea for the homage to the 1930s lodge in southern Oregon, and Andi had loved it. Carter had been less enthusiastic about the idea, though he’d acquiesced in the end. Emma hadn’t really cared one way or another, apart from how much it was costing them and when they would see some income.
Carter was already at the site, leaning against his shiny black BMW, ankles crossed, wearing a green golf shirt and tan chinos, his expression unreadable. He turned on a smile when he saw Andi approach, but like always, she got the feeling it was an effort for him. Greg’s little brother could be charming, but he was a shade too impressed with his own good looks for its spell to last long, except maybe on the
Unlocked?
Andi frowned. Had her Realtor forgotten to lock it? Or...
She checked the dead bolt and realized the jamb was broken out, making it impossible to lock it satisfactorily. Huh. She was pretty sure it hadn’t been that way before.
Her stomach clenched. She was worried the place had been broken in to by vandals, but a cursory glance from the porch into the living room/dining nook showed the place was undisturbed. Carefully, she stepped inside, walking through the first two rooms to the kitchen. It sported old, scarred linoleum and chipped gray Formica. The pine cabinets, with their black, rustic hinges, were just as sorry and beaten up as they’d been when she’d seen them the last time, just before closing. No vandalism she could detect.
She retraced her steps and headed down the short hallway toward the bedrooms. The second bedroom still smelled musty, and the dust on the bedstead and sagging mattress, “gifts” from the previous owner, looked as if it had been there since the ice age. The hall bath looked okay, and as she crossed into the master bedroom, she let out a pent-up breath.
Then her eye fell on the brown envelope lying atop the bare mattress on the bed. ANDREA was spelled out in block letters on its face. Andi’s brain tried to tell her that Edie, her Realtor, had left it for her, but no one addressed her as Andrea.
Her heartbeat quickened as she walked forward and picked up the envelope by its edge. Sliding a finger under the flap, which wasn’t glued down, she carefully pulled out the hard white notecard. More block letters:
LITTLE BIRDS NEED TO FLY.
She stared in confusion. What? She lost her grip and the card fluttered to the floor. Immediately she bent to pick it up, trying hard to be careful, but it took an effort to get it back in the envelope without smearing her own fingerprints on it. Her mouth was dry, spitless. She didn’t know what the words signified, but they sounded ominous. A play on her last name, she guessed, but what did they mean?
And who’d left it for her?
Gooseflesh rose on her arms and she scurried out to the safety of her car.
Chapter Two
I’ve made my first move. I want my opponent to get a first clue, a small inkling, nudge, worry, that the game’s afoot. I look around my special room and see the boxes of board games from my youth, dusty now from disuse. The old grinder, desktop computer where I once spent hours in play now sits idle. I don’t need any of them any longer.
I dream and strategize and plot. My vision is far in the future.
But there’s much to do.
* * *
The echoing sound of hammers greeted Andi as she drove along the chunky gravel that made up the temporary driveway to the lodge. The structure currently rose three stories, a skeleton of wood and steel that the framers were pounding at furiously. When the building was finished, the exterior would be shingles, the roof slate, similar in style to the lodge at Crater Lake National Park, though not nearly so grand in size. It had been Greg’s idea for the homage to the 1930s lodge in southern Oregon, and Andi had loved it. Carter had been less enthusiastic about the idea, though he’d acquiesced in the end. Emma hadn’t really cared one way or another, apart from how much it was costing them and when they would see some income.
Carter was already at the site, leaning against his shiny black BMW, ankles crossed, wearing a green golf shirt and tan chinos, his expression unreadable. He turned on a smile when he saw Andi approach, but like always, she got the feeling it was an effort for him. Greg’s little brother could be charming, but he was a shade too impressed with his own good looks for its spell to last long, except maybe on the
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