Just a little something to amuse you in the dead ground between Christmas and the New Year. As you may know, I belong to a small writing group in Howden and occasionally we set ourselves challenges. It was one such challenge that ultimately led to the Wellington’s Dragoon Series. Recently we had another where everyone was invited to write a genre on a piece of paper and stick in an unmarked envelope. We all then chose an envelope and had to write the opening page of a book in that genre. I got Psychological Thriller. This is the result, I hope you like it.
The Intruder
The Chief of Police had answered the call, which was no great surprise, it was a small town, and apart from the Chief there were only four deputies. That pleased the woman, it would lend authority. She waited, quietly, as the Chief searched the entire house, while she waited out on the porch, standing in the glare of the security light, watching the moths banging against it.
The house was isolated, standing on the edge of the town, fields of corn behind it. The nearest neighbour was a good three hundred feet away. It was one of the towns older properties, large, rambling, a lot for a single woman, thought the Chief. He had been all through it, room by room, one hand on his gun, looking for the intruder. He didn’t find anyone, and all the ground floor doors and windows were secured, an old air con unit labouring away.
He found the woman where he had left her. “Ma’am, I’ve been all though your house, there’s no one there. Are you sure you heard someone, it couldn’t have been kids or something outside?”
“I don’t know, perhaps, I was so sure, so scared, I just called 911.”
The Chief looked at her, trying to assess her. She didn’t seem the type to panic unnecessarily, not that he knew anything much about her, except she had arrived in town about six months earlier. She looked to be in her early thirties, slim, and fit, he had seen her a few times, out running, blond pony tail streaming behind. Some sort of writer was the gossip, kept herself to herself.
“Well, ma’am, you did the right thing.” He smiled reassuringly. “And don’t hesitate to do it again, it’s always better to be safe than sorry.”
She returned his smile. “Thank you, Chief, I do feel a little foolish, but out here, on my own…’ She left the sentence unfinished.
That’s alright, ma’am. I’ll get one of my deputies to swing by in the patrol car later. Just to be sure.”
“Oh, but if I’m in bed…”
“No, ma’am, he’ll just drive by, he won’t disturb you at all.”
She watched from the porch as the Chief backed his car out of her driveway, and drove off towards the town centre. With a little smile she went into the house, locked the door securely behind her, and turned off the security light. Then she checked the backdoor and all the windows. In the kitchen she took a long, thin knife from a block. It felt reassuring in her hand. Turning off all the downstairs lights, she made her way, slowly, up the stairs.
She walked past her bedroom door to the spare room at the back. The woman turned on the light, and walked to the window to pull down the blind. The room looked completely empty, and the Chief had spared it no more than a quick glance round from the doorway. She walked across to the wall opposite the window, and pressed the middle. Two sections of the wall swung open, revealing a naked man, bound, gagged and hanging from a hook, his arms raised uncomfortably above his head. His eyes were full of fear.
“Hello, baby, it’s time to play.”
David J Blackmore 