January 29 at 10:00 PM
Photo courtesy of DepositPhotos.com
Sara stirred at the sound of Tyler’s voice. “No, she seems all right.” His wingtips echoed across the wooden floor. “But I’m afraid she’s rejecting the liver.” As Tyler peered into the room, she closed her eyes, and pretended to sleep.
“Sorry, what was that? My battery’s low, you’re cutting out…Yeah, I guess so. I’ll let her rest it off, and then we’ll come see you.” He scanned over her one last time, and then gently pulled the door shut. “Thanks, Jordan. Try to enjoy the rest of your weekend. Oh, and doctor?” Tyler paced. “Doctor?” He exhaled, and then flipped his cell phone shut.
Sara waited for him to descend the stairs before opening her eyes. Slowly she sat up, and rubbed her side. How long had she been out? Hours? Days?
Gauze covered the length of one arm. The other fared better, requiring only a brief swathe and a few band-aids. At her estate, Tyler served as doctor, and rarely brought in additional help. But Tyler had done a poor job wrapping her up, as if he had been in a hurry.
Sara sat up, and grabbed the laptop from the adjacent nightstand. Tyler had tried many times to guess her password, but to no avail. “You’ll have to be more clever than that.” She logged in, and glanced at the failed attempts.
She launched her security-monitoring program, and selected the main hallway. Tyler stood at the bottom of the staircase, listening to the sounds of the house. Since inheriting her father’s fortune, everything was about gamesmanship. “Make your move,” she beckoned him.
Tyler turned, and walked out of frame. As he rounded the corner, Sara followed him by selecting a different camera from the matrix. He stopped by the parlor, and picked up the phone. After selecting a few more options, she listened in.
A dial tone filled her ears, followed by the sound of ten successive digits. The phone rang several times before switching to voicemail. “Good evening.” The voice was unmistakable. “Sorry I missed you. Please leave a message, and I’ll get back to you as soon as possible.”
Tyler slammed down the phone, and shook his head. He ripped the phone from the wall, tossed it aside, and stormed out of the house.
Sara stared at the screen. “What the hell’s going on?” She fell back on her pillow, and exhaled. “Good evening,” the words echoed through her. It was his voice again, and it was beginning to haunt her.