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confused.

  “Who I am is not important.” The man said, “What is your relationship with Miss Johnson?”

  “She is my daughter’s teacher.” Jim said, “What do you want? Why are you asking me all these questions?”

  “You have more than that in common.” The man said, “You share an interconnected fate.”

  Jim was taken aback by the statement. Who was the man and what was he talking about

  “Who are you?” Jim insisted. “What do you want?”

  “You must kill Cindy Johnson.” The man said bluntly, “Or your wife will die.”

  “What are you talking about?” Jim insisted, “What have you done with my wife?”

  “Kill Cindy Johnson.” The man repeated, “Or your wife will die. You have eight hours.”

  The man turned and walked away. Jim was still shocked about the conversation. He reached for the baseball bat that stood next to the front door and rushed out onto the porch. The man was gone. Jim stopped in his tracks and glanced to his left. There was no sign of the man; neither was there to his right. How did he disappear so fast? Where did he come from? Where did he go? What did the man do with his wife?

  He ran into the house and flung the door shut. He dropped the bat and ran over to the phone. He dialed Mary’s mobile number and got an engaged tone. He redialed and again got an engaged tone.

  What have they done with his wife? His heart started racing. He was starting to get worried about her. He could not bear the thought of something happening to her. Her phone is never engaged. He dialed her number again and again got an engaged tone. He disconnected the call and dialed the police.

  3

  Detective Black took Jim’s statement while he paced up and down in the kitchen. Detective Black could see that Jim was anxious. He understood as he dealt with many cases like this one. He specialized in missing persons cases. He had a good track record.

  “Mr Steward,” Detective Black said, “Try to calm down. Two of my constables are on their way to your wife’s office. Please, sit down and tell me everything from the beginning.”

  Jim stared at the detective, sighed and sat down across from him at the table. He already told the detective everything he knew.

  “Have you ever seen this man before?” Detective Black asked.

  “No.” Jim said bluntly.

  “What exactly did he say?” Detective Black asked.

  “He said I should kill someone or my wife will die.” Jim said.

  Detective Black was growing concerned.

  “Kill who?” Detective Black asked.

  “My daughter’s English teacher.” Jim said, “Cindy Johnson.”

  “Why her?” Detective Black asked.

  “I don’t know.” Jim said.

  Detective Black scribbled something on his notepad and then looked up. Something did not make sense.

  “Did you notice anything out of the ordinary?” Detective Black asked.

  Jim thought for a moment and then wondered if the ominous car and the stranger were somehow linked. Was it worth mentioning? Or would the detective simply dismiss it as a fatigue illusion?

  “Last night.” Jim said, “There was a car parked outside the house.”

  “What kind of car?” Detective Black asked.

  “I’m not sure.” Jim said, “It looked like a Datsun… a blue Datsun.”

  Detective Black scribbled the description on his notepad.

  “Have you ever seen that car before?” Detective Black asked.

  “No.” Jim said, “Maybe. I’m not sure.”

  “You’re not sure?” Detective Black asked.

  “It’s a car.” Jim said abruptly, “I’ve probably seen hundreds of them on the roads. What is the importance of the car?”

  There was a moment of silence. The detective scribbled something down on his notepad and then looked up at Jim again.

  “Can you think of anyone who would want to do you harm?” Detective Black asked.

  “No.” Jim said.

  “Have you crossed anyone recently?” Detective Black asked. “Have you or your wife made any recent enemies? A disgruntled ex-employee perhaps?

  “Not that I know of.” Jim replied.

  The detective’s mobile phone rang and he answered it.

  “Hello?” The detective answered, “Yes… oh really… okay, thank you.”

  The detective disconnected the call.

  “Who was that?” Jim asked concerned “Was it about my wife?’

  “Yes.” Detective Black said.

  Jim seemed apprehensive. Was she alright? Did something happen to her? He just knew they found her body alongside a road somewhere. That sick bastard killed her.

  “Well?” Jim insisted, “Where is she?”

  “At her office.” Detective Black said.

  Jim was confused, but at the same time relieved that she was alive. Jim’s mobile phone rang. He reached for it. It was Mary. He frantically answered the call.

  “Mary!” He exclaimed relieved.

  “Jim,” Mary asked concerned, “What is going on? Why are police officers in my office? What did you do? You reported me as missing?”

  “Why did you not answer your phone?” Jim asked.

  “I was busy on a conference call the whole morning.” Mary said, “What’s going on with you? Is it the stress of losing your job? I am worried about you.”

  “Are you alright?” Jim asked.

  “Yes.” Mary said, “Why?”

  “Has anyone contacted you?” Jim asked. “Has anyone threatened you?”

  “Jim,” Mary said, “You are scaring me. What is going on with you? This is not normal conversation. Police officers in my office are not normal.”

  Detective Black motioned for Jim not to tell her what was going on. It would be better not to worry her over the phone.

  “Nothing, honey.” Jim said, “I was just worried about you.”

  So you called the cops?” Mary asked.

  “It was just a misunderstanding.” Jim lied. “I may have overreacted a bit. I’ll see you later.”

  “Okay.” Mary said unconvinced.

  Jim disconnected the call and stared at Detective Black. He was relieved and confused. Maybe it was a sick joke someone was playing, but why would someone do that? He could see from the look in the detective’s eyes he was perplexed about the situation

  “I know what you’re thinking.” Jim said, “I’m emotionally unstable because I lost my job. I’m not making this up. There was a car outside the house last night and I’m sure it belonged to the guy who threatened my wife this morning.”

  “Mr. Steward,” Detective Black said, “We take death threats very seriously. Your wife might be safe, but I do believe that someone came to your house this morning with the intention to do your wife harm. I will give the constables instructions to follow your wife for the rest of the day. If there is trouble, they will be nearby. I will look into this matter immediately and keep you up to date with any information I come up with.”

  “Thank you.” Jim said.

  Though the Detective was trying to reassure him, Jim still felt very uneasy about the whole matter. He could not forget the man’s face – the way the skin seemed to hang off the bone structure and those vacant eyes.

  4

  Mary took the freeway home. The freeway was packed with slow moving traffic. She stared out at the sea of cars in front of her that barely moved an inch every ten minutes. The sky outside was clouding over and a faint drizzle started.

  Why was the traffic so congested on a Saturday? Did the people not have anything better to do than drive around? Maybe some of them were on their way home from work? Maybe there was an accident up ahead.

  Mary reached for her mobile phone and sent Jim a text telling him she might be a bit late.

  She turned on the radio and listened to some music to uplift her mood. The only thing she hated more than sitting in traffic was sitting in traffic in the rain. Rain made her long for home even more
than usual. She switched on the wipers.

  The cars in front of her inched a bit forward. It felt like she had been stuck in traffic for hours. There is just so much a person can handle before road rage sets in. She had to get out of the traffic jam. She saw a turn-off to her left. She would reach it in a couple of minutes and could take it. All she had to do was hang in another couple of minutes. Her favorite Cher song was playing on the radio and she tapped along to the rhythm with her finger.

  She could still see the police car trailing her from a few cars back. She shook her head. This was crazy. What was Jim thinking? As if it wasn’t bad enough that she had to work on a Saturday, she was being followed by the police.

  When she got closer to the turn off, she took it. She had no idea where the turn-off led, but anything is better than sitting in traffic for another two hours. The turn-off turned into a winding byway leading into an open stretch of field.

  While keeping a split eye on the road, Mary typed the coordinates of home into her GPS hoping that it would get her homes safely.

  “Where the hell am I?” She mumbled to herself.

  She stared at the open fields on both sides of the car. There was nothing as far as the eye could see and the highway had disappeared into the distance. There was no sign of any traffic in any direction. It would be a smooth drive all the way home – whichever way she had to go. The GPS indicated that she was about ten miles away from home.

  “That’s not so bad.” Mary said with a smile.

  She continued driving and noticed that her fuel was low. It was not as low as to getting stranded, but it would be safer to stop at the next gas station and fill up.

  She traveled down the abandoned road and a few miles down, she noticed a dusty old gas station. She pulled in.

  The car came to a stop, sheltered from the rain by the roof of the gas station. She stood at the pumps a while. The place seemed abandoned. It seemed like it hadn’t been used in years – maybe decades. The sign against the wall was yellow and rusted and the font seemed very old. It was one of those gas stations you can be sure was owned by a hillbilly who tortured teenagers in his basement. The place gave her the creeps.

  A moment later someone inside the little office pulled back the curtains and glared out. It was an obese man. He closed the curtains.

  Mary cautiously locked her door as the man stepped out of the office. The man was old, fat and dirty. He was chewing tobacco and spat as he approached the car. Though he had male pattern baldness, his hair was long and flowed across his shoulders in a tangled mess. He looked like he had just taken a bath in a pool of sweat and rolled around in dirt.

  “You need gas?” The creepy man asked.

  That is a dumb question to ask someone at a gas station, Mary thought to herself.

  Mary rolled down her window a bit and tried not to stare at his yellow and brown teeth. He spat out some tobacco to his left. Some spit hung on his lower lip, barely dangling as he chewed.

  “Yes please.” Mary said, “Twenty bucks should do it.”

  The creepy fat man stared at her and then picked up the pump nozzle. Mary smiled at the man, but her smile only hid the fact that she was very uncomfortable and wanted to go home.

  The man reminded her of all the psychopaths in the horror movies Jim made her watch. The movies were all the same – a group of unsuspecting youths pull into a gas station or motel and then get hacked to death by a psychopath. She did not want to end up like someone from a horror movie.

  5

  Jim sat in front of the TV and flipped through the channels. There was nothing good on TV except Oprah. It was a rerun of an episode where she gave away brand new cars. Where did she get all the cars? Why would anyone give away over a hundred cars to total strangers?

  He hated being at home during the day. He switched off the TV and got up. As he walked towards the kitchen, he caught a glimpse of the police car outside the house. He stood still when he saw the detective and another police officer walk up to the house. Something happened to Mary – he just knew it.

  Jim walked over to the front door and opened it. He immediately noticed that the Detective’s facial expression was one of