Chapter 10.

Rick returned home just before noon. Anne was at the front door to meet him.

"Where have you two been?"

Rick pushed past her and did not answer. She looked out, expecting to see John following up the path.

"Where's your father?"

"Don’t know," Rick answered as he headed for the kitchen.

"Do you know where he went?"

"I said I don't know where he is."

Rick opened the fridge, took out an apple, and sat down at the table. As Anne teetered on the edge of another question, the phone rang. She rushed over to answer, sure that it was John.

"Hello."

"Hi, Mrs. Kilroy. It's Jim. Is Rick there?"

Anne's heart sank. "Hold on. I’ll get him."

* * *

John Kilroy walked across the lawn toward the front door of the house. He held the golf club behind his back. The older man started back up the street, straining for a look at what the stranger was now up to.

* * *

Anne handed the phone to Rick and walked into the front room to watch for John.

"What's up?" Rick asked.

"Is your father feeling better?" Jim asked with concern in his voice, and Cara's admonishment still fresh in his mind.

"Yeah, he's fine," Rick said indifferently.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

"That's good. Guess what. I checked on the boxes. I think they could be old puzzle boxes."

"Big deal."

"They may be antiques and worth a few hundred." Jim paused, sure that the prospect of easy money would ignite Rick's interest. It didn't. "I gave mine to Cara to have her aunt look at it. She's an antique dealer and might . . ."

"You what?" Rick interrupted. "Why the fuck did you do that? Did she give it back to you yet?"

"She still has it," Jim answered, bewildered. "What's the problem? I’ll see her tonight, and I can get it then."

"You idiot. That will be too late."

Jim's doorbell rang.

"Wait a second," he said. "Someone at the door. Maybe Cara has come around for a little afternoon fun."

At the front door, Jim was shocked to see Rick's father. John Kilroy looked as if he had been in a fight. Both eyes were black, and his nose was bent to one side, clearly broken.

"Mr. Kilroy, are you hurt?"

"Oh, it's nothing. Can we chat?" Kilroy's voice was unnervingly flat. It sent a shiver down Jim's spine.

"Sure, I’m on the phone. Let me finish up." Jim hurried back, hoping for a moment to confer with Rick. Suddenly, something hit him hard on his left arm. He stumbled and crashed into a coffee table. Looking back, he could see a long metal spike in Kilroy’s hand. On the floor beside him was the head of a golf club. It was immediately apparent that Kilroy had struck him with the club, hard enough to break it, and, given the throbbing in his arm, likely a couple of bones.

"What do you want?" Jim shouted as he looked around the room, his mind on escape.

"Where is the box?" Kilroy asked calmly.

"I don't have it."

"Don't lie to me," Kilroy yelled.

Jim scrabbled for the phone.

"Help! Rick! Help me!" At the other end of the line, Rick hung up.

Kilroy flung the coffee table across the room. Jim dived behind a sofa and scrambled back to his feet.

"Where is it?” Kilroy brandished the shaft of the golf club like a dagger. Jim dashed for a door. Kilroy anticipated the move and exited through another door and down a hall to intercept. Jim avoided colliding with him and ran up the stairs. At the top landing, he hesitated for a moment before stumbling into his bedroom. He slammed the door shut and pushed a chest of drawers against it.

He quickly opened a large window facing the street and stepped up onto the sill. An older man stared at him from the front lawn. Jim yelled for help.

Kilroy slammed against the closed door.

Just outside the window, a chestnut tree presented his only means of escape. With his injured arm throbbing, confidence in the jump started to evaporate. Suddenly his bedroom door burst open, and Kilroy stormed in. Jim leaped for the tree. One foot found a thick branch. With his good arm, he grabbed another above his head. As he tugged, it cracked and broke free. He lost his balance and fell backward.

He landed with a thud on thick grass. A rock, one of a set that created a decorative border around the base of the tree, provided the pillow on which his head came to rest.

The old man shuffled toward Jim as Kilroy appeared at the window.