Erica Spindler - Killer Takes All

“Stacy?”

She turned. Alice stood just inside her bedroom door. Everything about her body language suggested she might bolt at any moment.

The teenager brought a finger to her lips, pointed to the room where the officers were conducting their search, then motioned her over.

Stacy glanced toward the officers, then strolled past the open doorway, before ducking into Alice’s room.

Alice drew her across the room. Her hands were trembling, clammy. She stopped at the desk and turned on the computer. The device came to life and quickly began loading.

Stacy looked questioningly at Alice and saw that the teenager was near tears.

“I know what the police think. I heard them talking. It’s not true. Dad didn’t do anything to Mom. Or anyone else. I know he didn’t.”

“How, Alice? How do you know?”

She nodded and turned back to the computer terminal. With a few keystrokes, she called up a screen with dated entries. She clicked on the most recent, dated today at 3:00 p.m. It was an e-mail message.

The Mouse, Five and Seven have been eliminated. The Queen is compromised. The Cheshire Cat is making her move; her claws are long, her teeth sharp.

What’s your response?

Stacy knew what she was looking at; a game of White Rabbit in progress.

Not any game, either.

The game.

“I thought I’d better…I wanted you to see this first. Because of Mom. And Dad.”

Her Mom. The Queen of Hearts.

Stacy quelled her excitement, her urge to shake information out of the teenager. “Who’s the White Rabbit, Alice?”

“I don’t know. I met him in an RPG chat room. But he’s my friend, he wouldn’t hurt me or anyone else.”

“Your friend?” Stacy worked to keep her voice low, her tone measured. “People are dying, Alice.”

“I know how it looks, but it can’t-” She clasped her hands together. “It’s just a game. Right?”

The teenager longed to be convinced, reassured. Unfortunately, Stacy couldn’t do that. “Rosie Allen is dead. Her killer left a message by her body-poor little mouse, drowned in a pool of tears. August Wright and Roberto Zapeda are also dead. The killer left a message by their bodies as well-the roses are red now. Judging by the cards and message left in your dad’s office, the pair represented the Five and Seven of Spades.”

She paused to let her words sink in. “Now your mother is missing. And coincidentally, in your game the Queen of Hearts is ‘compromised.’ Is it simply a game, Alice? You tell me.”

The girl broke down. “I di…didn’t know,” she managed to say around sobs. “Until…Mom…then I…then I knew the White Rabbit was using me to…decide-”

“Let’s figure this out,” Stacy said softly. “We’ll do it together. Figure out who he is and stop him.”

Alice wiped her tears and met Stacy’s eyes. “How? Tell me what to do.”

Stacy nodded, proud of the teenager. “First, the Queen is compromised. What does that mean?”

“It’s a game strategy. Incapacitate one of the players, then move on to another. Return later for the…for the kill.”

Return for the kill. Of course.

Kay was still alive.

“You know what this means, Alice. Your mother’s alive.”

The young woman’s eyes widened, filling once more with tears. This time with relief, Stacy suspected.

“Who is he?” Stacy asked again. “You must have some idea.”

“I don’t. Honestly.” She wrung her hands. “We met in an RPG chat room. We became…friends. He asked if I wanted to play.”

“How long ago did you meet?”

“Eight months ago. Maybe a year.”

“Did he ever suggest a meeting?”

“No.” She tilted her chin up. “But I wouldn’t have gone. I’m not that stupid.”

She flushed as if realizing that maybe she was, considering the turn of events.

“I know he’s really smart. We discussed everything from anthropology, to psychology, to art. He was knowledgeable about them all.”

A real Renaissance man.

Stacy glanced up, to the bookshelf above the computer. She took in the eclectic hodgepodge of titles, everything from fiction to law texts and gaming manuals. She even had a copy of the DSM-IV , the clinician’s guide to mental illness. The DPD shrink kept a copy in his office.

“How about his age?” Stacy asked.

Alice screwed up her face in thought. “Older than me, I’m pretty sure. He seemed mature.”

Seemed mature. Which illustrated one of the dangers of meeting people online, Stacy thought. Being unable to accurately gauge a person’s age or character. Having to depend on their version of the truth.

“Older? As old as your father?”

“Not old. ” She shook her head. “We liked the same music and stuff. When I talked about my parents, he understood. Totally.”

“About your parents,” she repeated. “What did you tell him about them?”

Alice looked embarrassed, upset. “I complained about how they treated me like a baby. How they wouldn’t let me go to university, stuff like that.” Her eyes welled with tears. “Considering the circumstances now, I wish I could take it all back.”

Stacy pressed on. “Playing online, how does it work?”

“It’s a one-on-one. I’m battling the monsters of Wonderland.”

“The mouse, the Five and Seven of Spades and so forth.”

“Exactly. The narrative is the same, but I’m the future’s only hope.”

“It’s up to you to kill the evil White Rabbit and all his Wonderland henchmen, thus saving the world.”

She nodded. “The White Rabbit controls the game, absolutely. He creates the traps, the monsters, everything. Before beginning the game, I’m notified of every monster I’ll face. But not when or where the confrontation will take place.

“I’m also informed of their particular strengths, powers and weapons. It helps level the playing field. And eliminates the temptation to improvise as you go, creating just the power or weapon necessary to defeat the player.”

“Is play determined by the roll of dice, as in the live version?”

“Yes. Electronic dice. I receive the result of all moves against me from the White Rabbit. And the result of my moves against the others from him as well.”

“How do you know he’s telling the truth? He’s got the dice.”

“What would be the point of lying?”

In a regular game, with a sane game master, sure.

But with an obvious whack job like this guy?

“My friend Cassie, could she have been part of this game?”

“I don’t know for sure, but I don’t think so.”

“Did you and she discuss White Rabbit or this game at Café Noir?”

“No.”

“You’re telling me the truth, right? It’s really important.”

“I didn’t, I swear. We talked about gaming in general, but not White Rabbit. It’s not really done, and certainly not with a stranger.”

Stacy believed her. “Who knew you were playing?”

“No one.”

That she found hard to believe. She told her so.

“It’s true! White Rabbit’s that way. Dad suspected, I suppose. He knows I game. It’s not unusual for an online gamer to have several scenarios going at once.”

“Do you know what monsters lay ahead?”

Alice typed in a code, accessing the game. She read them aloud. “The Mad Hatter and March Hare. The King of Hearts. The Cheshire Cat. And the White Rabbit.”

“When do you have to make your move?”

“Soon.”

“Can you put him off? Delay your move?”

“No more than twenty-four hours. If I fail to act, I’m automatically eliminated.”

And in this game, being eliminated was fatal.