For a few glorious seconds, Brian felt charged and elated—believing he could and would do anything. Then it dawned on him, he hadn’t the slightest idea where Ted had gone or how long he’d be. Given Brian had pissed much of his time away playing Dead Space and a not insubstantial chunk fixing himself an elaborate sandwich he wasn’t even sure how much time had passed.
What the hell is wrong with me?
Brian walked to the front-facing window. Ted’s car still wasn’t in the driveway and there was no sign of it further up the road either—not that the trees allowed him to see too far into the distance.
Brian felt the weight of his car keys in his pocket and silently cursed. If his car wasn’t miles away things would be much easier. He supposed he could head out on foot—walking just deep enough into the woods that passing vehicles wouldn’t detect him, but near enough the road he’d be afforded a decent amount of light. The sun would set in a few hours and whilst it hadn’t taken Ted too long to drive the two of them back to the manor house, Brian wasn’t keen on risking it. He’d seen enough horror films to know what could happen if you got lost in the woods after dark. If only Uber operated in these parts, but alas, Brian was a long way from the city, and given Ted’s connections, calling a local taxi was tantamount to Brian phoning Ted himself and letting him know he was planning on leaving. The speed at which Ted had summoned a taxi the other day had been eerily quick, especially given he lived out in the sticks. No, getting up early and slipping out tomorrow morning was the more sensible plan. When he was some distance from the house he could call an out-of-town private taxi to come pick him up.
But what if there is no tomorrow?
Brian latched onto the thought. Helen was always berating him for being too slow to act—putting things off and costing himself opportunities. This was one of those moments. If he didn’t act quickly then shit would go wrong. But this wasn’t a case of missing out on an interview or a date, this could prove fatal.
Brian rushed to the front door. Locked from the outside.
Fuck’s sake, Ted!
So much for not being a prisoner. And talk about a bloody fire hazard.
D.T.A. Don’t trust anyone.
Brian headed through the kitchen to the back door which was secured with three locks. Fortunately, this time, they were all accessible from inside. As soon as Brian began unlocking the door, Marcy trotted up behind him.
“You need some air too, huh?”
Marcy stared up at him with wide hopeful eyes. He opened the door and the dog raced outside. Brian stepped out onto the patio, smelt the cool, crisp air and freshly cut grass. He noted the edges around the patio, immaculately trimmed. There were two luxury deckchairs, arranged side by side, an ashtray next to one of them, overflowing with cigarette butts. Some butts were lipstick stained. The thought of Ted entertaining a female guest disgusted Brian. Did he take secret photos of them, too? He figured Ted for the old-school PI type, hanging out with prostitutes, drinking and smoking together, before they retired to the bedroom for sweaty, raunchy sex. Definitely not the kind of sex he and Yuki would eventually have.
Her would not just have sex.
Her would make love.
Her would transcend.
Brian smiled at the thought, though it quickly soured. He couldn’t shift the image of Ted having clumsy, graceless sex—wheezing and grunting, an overabundance of sweat dripping from his greasy brow. Brian could practically smell it.
Ugh! Brian wanted to slap himself. He turned away from the deckchairs, scanning for a way out. The fence around the garden was wooden and appeared new. There was a gated door, and Brian could see the padlock, glaring in the sunlight. But looking for the key would take time, which made Brian uneasy. The fence stood around one and a half times taller than Brian. He wasn’t in the best shape but reckoned he could scale it if he absolutely had to.
Brian checked his pockets: keys, phone, wallet—everything he needed.
Time to leave.
As soon as Brian stepped on the grass, ready to make a run for the fence, Marcy dashed over from the other side of the patio and started growling at him. Brian put his hands up, praying she wouldn’t pounce.
She began to bark.
“Shh,” Brian said, which only made her bark louder.
He lowered his head and ambled back inside. Last thing he needed was a barking dog alerting anyone nearby that a man was scaling the fence. It didn’t look like anyone lived in the vicinity—didn’t seem like there were any other houses for miles, just trees and woods—but with the way Brian’s luck was going, Ted would have some weird security system that triggered a call to the police as soon as Brian climbed atop the fence—motion sensors or some shit like that. It was far-fetched and out-of-the-ordinary, but then so was fucking everything since moving to Pelagic Court. Brian re-locked all the doors and went back to sit on the recliner.
Where in the hell was Ted, anyway? He hadn’t left so much as a note and whilst Brian supposed, as a grown-ass man, he didn’t need other grown-ass men to leave him notes or check in with him, it was almost evening, and Ted was nowhere to be seen. Obviously, he was a busy guy, and maybe he was working more than one case, but that didn’t help Brian with his present predicament. Not knowing when his captor would return made making a decision mighty difficult.
Helen was right. Brian was afraid of commitment.
Fuck this. He checked his pockets for the last time and walked over to the large front window. He tried the handle, almost laughing when it opened. The PI had made a point of locking the front door but hadn’t bothered with the window leading to the driveway. Not so fucking smart now, old Teddy boy!
Still no sign of Ted’s car.
Cool air breathed into the room. Brian lapped it up, filling his lungs. It wouldn’t take any effort at all to climb through the window and stroll down the driveway towards freedom.
Then Ted’s car careened around the corner and turned into the drive.