The Stranger Game by Peter Gadol

Author:Peter Gadol
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Hanover Square Press
Published: 2018-07-16T14:26:21+00:00

THEN IT WAS JUNE, A SATURDAY MORNING. THE JACARANDAS had lost their flowers en masse, leaving a layer of fetid purple blossoms everywhere. Light rain had made the air both cooler and more acrid, and before another storm moved in, Carey said he wanted to go out.

“Maybe a hike,” he said.

“A hike would be perfect,” I said.

“Actually.” He hesitated. “I was thinking of going alone.”

This took me by surprise. “Oh. Okay. I can’t come with you? I need the exercise.”

“It might be muddy,” he said.

“Only a little muddy,” I said.

Carey hesitated again, but then he said, “Okay, sure. Sure, come with. But we need to go now.”

When we stepped out of my house, we noticed my neighbors across the street standing in their driveway and talking to two police officers. I didn’t know these neighbors well (nor did I really know anyone on the block; most everyone had moved in within the last two or three years, displacing older people who had owned their properties for decades and decided to cash in on the real estate boom), but I walked over to make sure they were okay just the same. Carey hung back at first, then joined me. One of the officers told us that the house had been broken in to while the owners were out for a few hours, and that while there were a few crooked framed prints and a lampshade knocked awry, nothing appeared to have been taken. It appeared my neighbors’ home had been burgled for burglary’s sake. Had we seen anything or anyone suspicious casing the house? We had not.

Carey glanced at his watch. “There’s nothing we can do for them,” he said, and we expressed our condolences and concern and left.

Although he regularly played tennis in the park, Carey said he never ventured up into the canyon beyond the courts. I led the way. I took the slower ascent that wound around to a footbridge fording a ravine. Twice again I noticed Carey check his watch. Were we in a hurry? Did he have plans for us for after the hike? We passed almost no one else at the crest, and the path was a little more slippery than I’d counted on, making for a tricky descent. When we were on the western flank of the canyon with still a ways to go, Carey said he wanted to see the abandoned house. It was around the bend. It would rain again sooner than later. I didn’t think we had time for the detour, but he was determined.

“It should be this way, right?” he asked.

“Right,” I said and steered us down the side trail.

The house came into view, a brighter white in the cloudy weather. I nearly lost my footing but caught Carey’s arm before I fell.

“What’s your preferred rumor about what happened here?” he asked, and I was about to remind him about the article about the widow when we heard shouting.

It wasn’t clear at first if it was coming from the house. Noise could rebound around the canyon in odd ways, its origin not always clear.

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