Snakes and ladders

He hung up and looked at the house.

For a long moment, he watched the study, staring at the blind as if it would suddenly pop open and reveal to him the secrets that lay behind it. It didn’t, of course, and after a few more minutes, Striker placed his focus on the office below. It appeared vacant. All the lights were off. There was no movement inside.

He looked at the master bedroom. There the drapes were only half pulled shut, but with the telescopic lens of the binocs he could see inside.

Everything there was just as dark and still as the office.

He was just about to reposition himself to be more comfortable, when the bedroom door opened and the light flicked on. Walking in through the door was Dr Osterma

As Striker watched the man, he noticed a few long reddish marks. Scratch marks maybe. One ran down the side of the man’s neck and one trailed across the top of his back. He tried to focus in for a better look, but the doctor stepped out of view and remained hidden behind the partly closed curtains.

Striker remembered how gingerly the man had moved the first time he had met him – just hours after the suspect had fought with him and jumped out of the third-storey window of Mandy Gill’s building.

Now, here he was, seemingly injured again.

It was strange.

The thought had barely formed in his mind when the front door suddenly swung open. From the house ran Dalia. She had her hands over her ears and her face was tight. She raced across the front yard, opened the gate, and then ran down Belmont Avenue to the west. When she reached the next lot, Striker lost sight of her.

Something was wrong.

Striker took out his cell and called Felicia. ‘You getting anything back there?’

‘Nothing. All dead.’

‘Well, I got the doctor in view, and he looks like he’s been in a fight again. Plus, Dalia just went racing out of the house like it was on fire. Something’s going on here, Feleesh. I’m moving in for a closer look.’

‘Let’s get another unit here first.’

‘This will just take a second.’

‘There’s something weird about this family, Jacob. I don’t like it. It’s not safe.’

‘No police work is.’

‘This is different.’

‘Just cover me, Feleesh. Cover me and keep your radio turned on.’

He hung up the phone, got up from his prone position and made his way through the plum trees. As he reached the driveway and roundabout, he tucked the binoculars inside his i

The front door was half open, and everything inside the mansion was quiet and still. Down at the far end of the hall, the lights from the kitchen and library were on, flooding the area with bone-yellow light.

No one was there.

Striker stepped inside the foyer. The air felt hot compared to outside, and the soft hum of the furnace filled his ears.

‘Hello?’ he called out.

No response.

He leaned back outside and hit the doorbell. Loud chimes rang through the house, echoing in the foyer. Moments later, the sound of footsteps could be heard, stomping across the hardwood floor above.

Master bedroom, Striker deemed.

He waited patiently as the footsteps grew louder, until Dr Osterma

‘Detective,’ he said. He could not hide the surprise in his voice. ‘This is rather . . . unexpected.’

‘You and I need to talk.’

Dr Osterma

‘Not tomorrow. Now,’ Striker said.

He closed the door behind him.

Seventy-One

For some reason, the library was excessively hot and humid. Hot air blew in from the furnace ducts all around the room, strong and steady. Striker closed one of the vents with the toe of his shoe. As he looked around the room, he saw the Osterma

Now he understood.

It was the smiles. Each one near perfect, as if carved into their faces. But there were signs within those expressions of other emotions. The fear in Lexa Osterma

It was all plastic.

Only the doctor looked truly happy, his smile stretching his goatee across his face. The rest of the family looked like they were all wearing masks. Striker wondered what was behind each one. As he considered this, Dr Osterma

‘This is about Billy again, I would presume.’

Striker gestured towards the picture of Dalia. ‘She’s a beautiful girl.’

Dr Osterma

‘How is her hearing?’

The doctor blinked. ‘Her hearing? Why, it’s fine, as far as I’m aware. Why do you ask?’

‘Because she ran out of here like a bat outta hell, covering her ears. So I’m thinking either she’s been hearing things she doesn’t like, or there’s a problem with her ears.’

Dr Osterma

‘I came here to discuss some . . . oddities that keep popping up with Billy’s case, but then when Dalia came racing out of the front door, I reconsidered.’

‘I can assure you, Detective, you do not need to worry about Dalia.’

‘I think I do.’ Striker took a step closer to Dr Osterma

Dr Osterma

‘Then we got a problem here, because I do think it’s my business. In fact, I think it’s my duty.’ Striker took his hands from his coat pockets and explained. ‘I got a girl racing out of here like the house is on fire, and I got you with marks up your neck and back, moving about with the sensitivity of a burn victim. All in all, it makes me ask myself: is everyone here all right?’

For a moment, Dr Osterma

‘You think I’m abusing my family?’ he asked.

‘It crossed my mind.’

Dr Osterma

‘Shingles?’

‘Yes. Brought on by the herpes zoster virus. I’m sure you’ve heard of it before – the chicken pox virus.’ When Striker said nothing back, Dr Osterma