Lost Game Notes (Novel)

Chapter 6: Ocean Eyes

  Alex had to admit, it was a pretty sweet deal, pretending to be who he was not in exchange for paid speeding tickets. And now he had the rest of the evening to himself study the game notes for clues. He was about to push open his bedroom door when he heard a soft ding. He would have ignored the sound, but then it came again, from Lawrence's room.

The hum of voices and clinking cutlery could be heard from downstairs. What did he have to loose? Alex aimed and threw his book, Darker Corners, at his bed, then strode into Lawrence's bedroom. The dinging sound came again, from the dresser. It was Lawrence's phone.

A list of messages were on the lit up screen, from the same number. Each message proclaimed the same words in bold:

CONAN IS LOOSE

With a frown, Alex typed in the passcode he had never forgotten ever since coming across it in a frantic search for his homework. Lawrence's important papers wasn't the most sensible place to look, of course, but he was desperate. There he found an entire paper full of Lawrence's phone details. The passcode wasn't one he could forget: MayTheBestOneWin.

He scrolled through the list of recent messages. They were of the boring kind:
Call me; I have issued a dinner at my house to discuss Wednesday's court case; and; When do we meet?

Alex scrolled back up, staring at the five messages sent seconds apart. The last one was sent one minute ago.

CONAN IS LOOSE

He recognized the name, but just where had he seen it? As he attempted recollect, a vague memory ebbed at the surface of his mind.

Lawrence had tried a man named Conan something at court, wasn't it? For some reason, that particular trail made headlines. The trail must have been personal, because Lawrence had acted like the devil afterwards. In fact, his behavior scared Alex so bad he spent the time after school locked in his room. He spent the weekends in the park.

If Conan being loose meant reliving that experience, well, that was all it took. Without giving it a second thought, he selected the five messages and deleted them. He deleted them from the trash for good measure.

Footsteps sounded on the stairs. His heart began to, involuntarily, pound harder. He locked the phone and slipped out the door, dashing into his own room mere seconds before Lawrence called his name.

Alex dove unto his bed, grabbed his book and dropped it on his chest, pages splayed. He shut his eyes and willed his heart to slow its erratic beat. Maybe then Lawrence would leave him alone.

"Alexander?" Came Lawrence's voice again.

Footsteps came up to Alex's bed, and he was reminded of yesterday. A hand came down on Alex's shoulder and he tensed. He remembered his backpack, tucked beside his desk a few feet away, housing a jar of five ounces of meth. He pressed back a swallow.

The hand on Alex's shoulder grew formidable as seconds ticked by. Alex felt vulnerable. Too vulnerable. Finally, he could stand it no more and reached up, grabbing Lawrence's wrist and attempting to twist it.

Lawrence pulled away with a snap, his eyes flaring. "Don't try those tricks on me, Alexander. I won't hesitate in finding ways to punish you."

"You're the one who's sneaking up on me like a creep," Alex retorted, keeping his eyes fixed on Lawrence. It wouldn't do to pull attention to the backpack.

Lawrence lowered his chin, the dark amber in his eyes swirling. "I'm seeing my colleagues off." With that, he spun on his heel and strode out of the room, adjusting his cuffs.

For once, Alex wished he could have a normal relationship with his father. But as soon as the thought came, it left. Never. Alex lay still, listening to the silence envelope him once Lawrence was gone. As soon as the voices faded out of the drive, he leapt to his feet and sprinted to Lawrence's room. The phone was still there on the dresser.

Alex unlocked the screen, and his eyes widened when he saw six more consecutive messages all displaying the same message:

CONAN IS LOOSE

Alex licked his lips, selected all six messages and deleted them. With trembled hands he set the phone down, eyes darting around the room. He had to figure out who Conan was. Was it possible that he would be the "him" mentioned in the second note?

For a moment, it was him...

Alex decided even if it wasn't, Lawrence probably knew Conan at a more personal level somehow. With that and the prospect of Lawrence returning soon, Alex began to scour the room.

Everything was prim and neat. There was a large, mahogany desk cluttered with a sea of papers carefully arranged like dominoes. Shift one, and everything is ruined.

Alex stayed away from the desk. The crumpled bed was nevertheless clean, the floor devoid of any objects but a cream-coloured braided rug. A closet was sure to hold nothing but suits.

The mystery of what lay behind drew Alex like an insect to warmth. He pulled open the doors and rifled through the dark pieces of clothing. There were plenty coats, a few sweaters, and fewer t-shirts. Polished shoes were carefully rowed at the bottom.

Alex parted two coats, and his eyes caught on the corner of framework. Curious, he dipped further into the closet, tugging on the wood. After a moment of struggling it came loose, throwing Alex off his feet with the momentum.

Alex's breath caught. It was the painting. His painting. The one he had never seen again, the last painting he had ever painted. He squinted his eyes and tried to make out the details. He leaned the frame against the wall, walked back a few feet, and tried again. Suddenly, the painting came to life, ocean blue eyes prominent on the tanned face and a warm smile to match.

A patch of the canvas was mottled a darker colour, Alex noticed. He turned the frame around to see a little piece of newspaper folded into the corner. He pulled it out and pocketed it, looked at the painting one last time, and slipped it back into place.

Alex closed the doors of the closet and his heartbeat thrummed faster. He felt he had found something profound. The words of the second note echoed in his mind:

For a moment, it was him.

Alex closed and locked his bedroom door, sat on his bed and unfolded the paper with shaking hands.

His eyes settled on the headline gracing the top of the page and his heart seemed to freeze. He read it two times over to be sure had was seeing straight.

CONAN SIMONS TRIED AT COURT AFTER ATTEMPTING MURDER ON OLIVIA BROOKE.

So Conan had tried to kill his mother. No wonder why Lawrence had acted so rash in the days following the court case.

Alex drew in a deep, shaky breath. He had been so young by then, maybe even four, but he could never forget the horrible hours spent locked in his room, just waiting for it all to be over.

He could still hear the melody of his mother's song, the song she always sang to him, but the words eluded him. Alex couldn't recall exactly when, but he remembered the way his mother would hold him tightly in her arms, rocking back and forth, weeping. All those tears. They had scared him.

By then, Alex hadn't understood why she cried so heavily. All he knew was that he had his mother and he was safe. He relished the moments spent with her, but would miss them terribly, for soon after she and Lawrence divorced. And then he never saw her again.

As the memories rushed into Alex's mind, he stared at the paper proclaiming those words and felt himself go numb, loose himself to anger so hot it boiled his blood.

Conan had killed his mother.

He crumpled the paper in one swift crunch, then tore it right down the middle. He fell back unto his bed, rolled over, and punched his pillow repeatedly. Hot tears streamed down his face in rivulets, and a scream forced out of his lungs. That same feeling came rushing back, shoving him off the edge of sanity. The feeling scared Alex so badly, he smashed his fist into the wall. Anything to keep him from falling into that endless abyss.

Hot white pain exploded in his knuckles, causing him to double in on himself, groaning. The sting hurt so bad it felt good. The words of that note hung over his shoulders, forcing him down. It took a lot to hold on, but it was as easy as breathing to let go. Once more, Alex found himself submitting to the darkness.

In fact, he was so lost in his blissful world of pain and tears, he didn't even consider what the messages sent to Lawrence's phone could mean.