The Game of Deception

Chapter 5-1

The faces in that haunting photograph pass through my head. Their eyes lock into mine, over and over, it"s like they are screaming at me. Each face holds an innocent look in their eyes. It consumes me, leaving me unable to concentrate on any of the paperwork awaiting my attention. I"ve been back to work for two days now, and I"ve accomplished nothing. Folders, documents, and writing utensils are strewn about my desk amidst empty cans of Red Bull and fast food bags.

My computer"s keyboard is buried in garbage. The screen is completely covered in sticky notes containing memories and events that may or may not be of help to the detective. He"s due to show up at my office any time with some new agent on the case, some kind of personality expert, or some s**t. I glance around at the mess with disinterest. I care about nothing in this moment but the women in the photograph. I decide against cleaning. I have no desire to impress anyone, and no ambition outside of finding my “admirer.” I read over each neon green note stuck to the screen of my computer. A light, tap tap tap sounds on my thin office door.

tap tap tap“Come in.” I manage, without an ounce of energy to get up and open it myself.

The handle slowly twists, and the door creaks open. Rather than the detective I was expecting, Tiffany slowly and timidly pokes her head around the corner. She is petite, blonde, and always modest. She is in her early twenties. She takes in a breath, scrunches her nose up tight, and winces with disgust.

“Do you have a minute?” The question comes out quiet and guarded.

“I guess.” I mumble, averting my attention back to the notes.

I don"t mean to come off as rude to Tiffany, I like her more than any other employee at the multiplex. Trust me, there are a few doozies. I don"t know what the hell I was thinking when I voted them in. In a mere two days, I have grown numb and careless to anything and everything aside from the murders. The people employed at my theater are the last thing on my mind, Tiffany included. I"m completely and utterly engrossed. I"m sleep deprived, petrified, and entirely exhausted. She slowly moves toward the tan-cushioned chair opposite my desk.

“I… um…” She stammers.

“Can you get to the point, Tiff? I"m a little busy.”

Apparently, my comment didn"t go over very well. Her timid demeanor quickly changes. The once sweet, soft spoken girl I have come to know and like, takes in a large breath and unloads. In a split second she has changed from passive to aggressive. For the first time ever, she"s talking to me like a real – and absolutely pissed off – friend, rather than just another friendly coworker.

“Look, Markie, I know your life is s**t right now, but my God, take a look at yourself!”

The words, and tone, are unfitting to her sweet voice. The whole scene is uncomfortable. I shift in my seat.

“Excuse me?”

“This place is disgusting. You"ve let everything go.” She hesitates. “You"ve let yourself go. Honestly, I don"t know if it"s all this nasty garbage and old food that smells so bad in here, or if it"s you.” The words stream out in awkward waves.

I can only imagine she"s been working up to this moment all day. Tiffany stands and shoves an empty trash can from the side of my desk into my hands. It forces me to my feet. I"m temporarily speechless. While holding the can for her, I listen. She keeps up with the ass chewing, and violently rummages through the clutter on my desk. She separates necessities from useless crap and garbage.

“You can"t shut out the world!” More trash clanks and clambers into the rapidly filling can. “You can"t refuse to shower or brush your hair!” Slam, more garbage shoots in. “You need to fight, Markie! You need to keep people you care about close! You can"t just take on this beast all by yourself and live your life like a dirty little recluse!”

SlamMy desk is quickly cleared. Even my paperwork is stacked neatly in a corner before she moves on to the unkempt floor.

“And to be quite honest, if I"m going to keep running this place from out front, I"m going to need a damn raise by the time this is all said and done.”

I follow her around my small mint and cream-colored office and hold the trash can at arm"s length. She continues to scold me.

“I mean… I won"t mind the extra time on my paycheck, and I know this is the last worry on your list, but the people around here don"t listen to me the way they do you. And, not that you care, but it"s hard to hold it together without being a complete b***h to everyone around, and I hate that. If you"re not going to be here when you"re here, then you might as well take some time off like any other normal person would!”

hateI appreciate her concern. I even respect the newfound backbone she seemed to have grown overnight, yet I"m not about to admit it. Guarded defense is my instant reaction. The wall I"ve built up around myself isn"t coming down that easily.

“Thanks for cleaning my office, now please get back to work.”

I respond flatly, holding the overflowing trash can out for her to take back. Tiffany"s hands stop instantly at her hips. Her eyes are fierce and she refuses to take the can, or to move toward the door.

“That"s it?” She asks. “That"s all you"ve got?”

“What do you mean?”

“You"re still going to turn me away after all that?” She"s talking at me like a seasoned mother would to a toddler.

She refuses to budge or give up. I can tell that no matter what I do or say, I"m not getting her out of my office – unless I cry wolf, that is, to the police guard standing outside the door. At this very moment, it"s tempting.

“What do you want me to say, exactly?”

“Just tell me what is going on in your head… I mean, I know you have other friends and Kam, and I know that you"re a strong woman, but everyone needs someone to talk to. I think it"s a safe bet that you aren"t talking to anyone right now, because you have practically locked yourself in this room for two days straight.”

“I can"t be your friend, Tiffany.” I answer quietly and look at the floor.

I lean my weary torso against a filing cabinet that sits between the door, and a rickety printer that"s on its last leg.

“My friends die.” I whisper through a closing throat.

“I"m not going to die. I wasn"t in the picture. I didn"t even know you when it was taken.”

My head jolts up. “How do you know about that picture?”

“Everyone knows about it, Markie. Everyone knows that whoever left it for you got past the police, that were supposedly everywhere, without being seen.”

I haven"t told anyone about the picture, and the police took it a couple minutes after we found it. It was supposed to be kept quiet so as not to give this creep any more psychological power than he already has. Now I"m pissed. How is it out? How does Tiffany know about this picture, and who did she mean by everyone?

How is it out? How does Tiffany know about this picture, and who did she mean by everyone?Tiffany moves to the freshly cleared chair in front of my desk. She takes a seat abruptly. Her back is straight, and her posture is perfect.

“See, now we"re talking.” She says softly with confidence.

I follow her across the room and sit in my own chair directly across from her. I stare at her. I"m a bit annoyed at the professional look in her face. What is she trying to do, be my therapist? I lock my arms together across my chest and wait for an explanation of her knowledge. I don"t have the patience for games, so luckily it doesn"t take her long to spill the beans.

What is she trying to do, be my therapist?“Brock came in a couple hours ago to check up on you.” She explains. “He told us everything. It"s the weekend too, if you haven"t noticed, so everyone is working tonight. All of the people in line for their popcorn could hear him too, I"m sure.”

“He"s such a loudmouth. I swear, I"m going to strangle him myself.”

“Well, I think you should cut him some slack.”

Her kindness returns as her temper tantrum subsides.

“He seemed truly concerned. He wanted to go straight back and check on you, but I told him that you said you didn"t want to talk to anyone but Kam or the detective. Plus, everyone was asking him questions, you know how Brock cracks under pressure.”

Tiffany talks about my sister"s boyfriend like they have known each other for years. He really does wear his heart on his sleeve. Not only does he dress like a girl, but he chats and makes friends like a girl would too. What a wimp. What a stupid, i***t, wimp!

What a wimp. What a stupid, i***t, wimp!“I"m not cutting him slack just because he doesn"t have the balls to tell people to shut up. He had no right to share that information! It"s bad enough that Breanna"s parents officially uninvited me to her funeral, but now everyone in town will know that everything roots back to me.” It hits me instantly. “Oh my God, the press!” I struggle for breath, drawing in shallow pants. “They have been like vultures in my neighborhood. I can"t deal with them. I can"t handle my emotions as it is.”

I can"t help but to let my guard down and open up to her now. I"m panicked. I know the rumors will spread fast. It"ll take no time at all before word will officially be out about the picture.

“s**t!” I stress.

I bury my face into the palms of my hands. Tiffany is no longer chatty and overbearing. She must understand my paranoia, seeing it firsthand.

“I"m so sorry.” She offers. “I didn"t even think about all of the attention.”

“It"s not just that.” I set the record straight. “I can"t get Beth"s face out of my head. I keep picturing everyone I know, dead. I play out their murders in my mind over and over. It"s as if they"ve already happened. Everyone in that picture has been notified, and has a watch on them, but if he can get past the cops at my own house the day after he killed Breanna, then who"s to say he can"t get to any of my friends and family?”

A tear rolls down my cheek. I lift my head from my hands to make eye contact with her. Tiffany listens intently, her eyes are wide.

“Who all was in it?”

“Kam, Beth and her mom, my mom, my dad"s sisters, a few other friends I have known since we were kids.” I think for a moment on whether Tiffany has ever met any of them here at the theater. “Meagan and Joyce come here on double dates every couple of months. You may have seen me talking to them a few times. Meagan has even stuck around for a while after the movie. She"s waited for me to help lock up.”