Hide'n Go Seek by Dale Mayer Read Free Book Online Page B

gather strength, reaching for release.

    Kali drowned in the maelstrom. At her easel she experienced no hesitation, no decisions of what to create or how. Her brush moved in smooth, sure strokes. A little more here, a dab over there, her brush quickly filled in details. Somewhere along the line, she got lost in the image swirling in her brain.

    Then she stopped.

    Her hand hovered in mid-air, the brush ready for yet another stroke. She sagged, barely managing to stop herself from falling to the floor. She dropped her materials on the table. Without gazing at the picture, she wiped her hands on a nearby rag, removed her smock, and headed back to her bedroom. Her mind felt like a bucket with a large hole in it, completely drained. The steps to her bed took forever.

    Shiloh plodded slowly beside her. That was the last thing she remembered before collapsing on her bed already asleep.

***
    The phone rang, penetrating the fog inside Kali's mind. Stirring, every muscle heavy and sore, she reached for the handset.

    "Kali? Are you there?" Stan's thin reedy voice gave her the shivers

    "Yes. I'm here." Her voice came out scratchy, as if rusty and unused.

    "There's another letter. It was on the doorstep of the center this morning. It has to be the same guy." Excitement rolled through the phone line, disturbing Kali's senses. Clearly, this drama excited Stan. He sounded almost pleased .

    Kali frowned in dismay. "Another one? At the center? Huh?" She cleared her throat hoping it would clear her mind. "What does it say?"

    "It's simple. The first part is just two words - Game on."

    Game on. Dread gripped her throat. That could only mean the game, whatever it was, had started. She'd been included, whether she liked it or not.

    Something twigged. "What do you mean - the first part?"

    "Yeah. The rest of it...and I sure hope you understand this...says, 'Kali's the pro. She'll know what to do.'"

    "But I don't," she wailed. "Stan, I don't know what to do!"

    "Well, he seems to think you do."

    "Well, he's wrong," she snapped, throwing back the covers to jump out of bed. "As far as I know, he's just another of the many loose screws wandering planet Earth. Have you told Grant?"

    "Yes, he's on his way in."

    She strode to the bathroom, shuddering at her image in the mirror. Purple bags. "Look Stan, I'm just out of bed. Call me if Grant has anything to add to this. I need a shower - not to mention a chance to think."

    "Good idea. I'll talk to you in a few minutes."

    What a mess. Again she had to consider the possibility that someone had been watching her house. Why else would this guy take the second letter to Stan's center if he hadn't watched Stan and a stranger arrive here...and leave with the first one? Unless he wanted the center involved in his game? And Stan?

    Twenty minutes later, dressed and depressed, Kali made her way to the kitchen. She fed Shiloh on the deck in the morning sunlight. Running her fingers through her shoulder-length hair, she remembered last night's painting. She headed to her studio to take a look. She'd almost reached it when apprehension washed over her.

    The door was closed.

    She never closed the door after painting. It wasn't good for the wet canvases. Besides, the room only had a small window, so the paint fumes built up fast. A frown wrinkled her forehead. Had she simply forgotten? She had been deadly tired last night.

    Bolstering her courage, she pushed the door wide and flinched as the fumes rushed out, almost stinging her nose. "Oh gross."

    Holding her breath, Kali crossed to the window, shoving it as far open as it would go. Fresh air surged into the small space. She'd love a huge studio, except painting wasn't exactly a full time career for her - no matter how much she'd like it to be. It was a release for when depression and madness overcame her soul. Maybe later, when she no longer did rescue work, she could indulge her art as a creative hobby instead of as an outlet of pain and