The Family Game(85)

I know there’s water down there, a dropped stone proved that – so if I do fall, at least I’ll hit water, even if it is freezing. The question is, how would I get out if I fell?

I pat my pocket for my iPhone and feel its reassuring bulk. It can survive being fully submerged in water, or so popular advertising would have me believe. If worse comes to worst, I can call someone. Edward. He can get me out. I might lose this game; I might have to tell him everything, but at least I wouldn’t die of hypothermia. Granted, I may lose him in the process, but I’d have to try at least.

The opening of the well recedes above me, the midnight sky visible in blue through the breaks in the clouds as white flakes land delicate and cool on my upturned face.

I’d estimate the ladder to be approximately fifteen metres long, and watching the shimmer of water far below, fifteen metres seems about right.

The smell hits me a few more metres down. It is so overwhelming that I have to stop, take the torch from my mouth and bury my face in my elbow crease to stop from retching. It’s the unmistakable smell of rot, of something dead. I force my mind to picture a rat, a fox, a coyote – anything but the dead thing I fear is actually waiting down there for me.

Peer into my darkness, it’s cold and deep,

But to win you must find the secrets I keep.



For the first time this evening, I wonder if I’m really playing the same game as the rest of the family. There’s a chance my clues lead me only down here and nowhere else. For all I know, I might have crawled into my own grave.

My gaze shoots up to the opening of the well, fully expecting to see a figure above me – a figure who will send me splashing down into the darkness, unable to find a way out. But there is no one there.

Another terrifying thought occurs and I fumble the iPhone from my pocket, careful to hold it with the firmest grip as my eyes fly to the signal bar. I let out an audible sigh of relief because I do not live in a horror movie; even down here in this well, there is signal. If I fall, I can still call for help.

Robert is no fool; if he’d planned to kill me down here, he’d have damn well made sure I didn’t have a phone on me.

I secure my phone back in its zipped pocket and pull out an old tissue. I rip it in two with one hand and my teeth, dampen each section with saliva and force them up my nostrils to block out the vomit-inducing stench.

Below me, the ladder meets the water and the well opens out into a small cavern, its walls no longer manmade but craggy rock.

I shine the torch into the water beneath me. It’s clouded, so impossible to gauge its depth. I swing the torch beam around the cave walls, their wet slime glimmering and flaring in the roaming light. Then something catches my attention and I swing back. The pop of a bright envelope. My next clue. The third clue. I could still win this. I just need to get that envelope.

I hover above the water, the envelope still a good six feet away from me, positioned high on a jutting section of rock. I’ll need to get in the freezing water if I want to reach it. I shine the torch into the murk beneath once more.

I plunge a trainer in and let the cold seep through and fill it. My breath catches; it’s freezing. I tell myself I can do this; people swim in cold water every day. Lila did this morning. As long as I’m in and out quickly, as long as I can get dry, I’ll be fine.

I push the smell from my mind as I gently ease my body into the water. I take a sharp intake of breath as it seeps through my clothes and reaches my skin, the cold somehow burning hot, but I sink no deeper. The cave floor is solid underfoot, and the water only reaches to my waist.

I wade to the ledge and haul myself up from the waterline, grabbing the card from the rock shelf. I rip it open and read.

You’ve come so far, you’re almost there.

The next clue is something she would wear.

You can sense her, she’s right here,

Reach out and check,

Your present is under what’s around her neck.



There is someone here. Oh my God. I swing my torch back into the milky water. One of the women from Robert’s list is here. It could be Melissa, Aliza, any of them. Though the smell suggests one of the more recent women on the list.

The cold is inside me now, my whole body quaking. I need to get out. I need to find this body and get out of here.

I stuff my clue card into a pocket above the waterline and shine my torch across the dark pool. I know what I need to do. I don’t want to do it, but that’s irrelevant. Someone’s in here and I need to see whatever’s around her neck.

I wade through the foul water, my arms searching for something solid in the soup.

It touches my bare right leg first, and in spite of knowing it’s coming, I leap back, causing stinking water to splash up as far as my hair. I quickly wipe putrid water from my eyes using my dry shoulder, then I shine my torch into the water above the submerged object. It’s funny, there’s knowing something, and then there’s experiencing it. I have experienced dead bodies, I have felt them, the strange weight they suddenly have, the cooling and hardening of once-soft skin, the difference life makes to flesh, to bone, to hair.

I know and yet, inches from this person, I am scared. An animal instinct, a reflexive fear of the death overriding my system. It’s strange, because the dead are really the only things in the world who can’t hurt us anymore.

I push away thoughts of who this girl might be, of how she ended up down here. All I need to focus on is what’s around her neck.