soon and see the foolishness in all of this before any harm is done.”
“Fair enough.” Darrell Gene’s mind raced at the prospect of having a family, people who loved him and cared about him. “Tell me what to do.”
“Excellent! Here's what you should write on that note.”
Suddenly, the chattering inside Darrell Gene's house went from a white-noise murmuring to a deafening roar that sounded like feedback. Yet, he understood every word.
To the untrained eye, Darrell Gene’s house was nothing special. His small two-bedroom single-story with red brick and a small yard that boasted more dirt than grass was empty. An angel viewing the scene from overhead saw something very different. The place was infested.
Demons in The Piper's employ swarmed around the house like ants stirred into a frenzy, spewing curses and blasphemies. From the looks of things they had set up camp on his doorstep. Darrell Gene scarcely noticed the difference.
He was too busy writing down what he had been told and preparing to deliver the note. Nervously, he looked both ways before crossing the street, ran to his neighbor's mailbox and did what he had been told to do.
“Very good,” the voice told him. “Now, grab your cell phone and hurry to this address. I need you to snap a photograph and send a simple text.”
Darrell Gene was already headed out the door toward his truck.
Chapter 6
The air was filled with noise. Clanging steel. Chuffing engines. Grinding gears. Smashing rocks. It sounded like it was raining hammers.
Iron gates locked into place. Waters rushed to fill unseen moats. Deadly machinery was set to trigger even deadlier devices. The construction of the maze was almost complete.
Bricks were laid using grief as a mortar. Walls were cemented into place with sorrow. Lights were forsaken in favor of darkness. Crude agonizing designs were etched into the floors, and the history of one man’s sin was scrawled in painstaking detail on every inch of the dreadful place.
Amy might have heard the noises of construction, but Peter screamed too loudly for her to think straight. Although he was only two years old, he sensed that something was wrong, that there was turmoil in his house.
As calmly as she could under the circumstances, Amy got Peter a sippy cup of juice, kissed him gently on the head, and put him in bed. She went to the couch and collapsed in an exhausted heap, weeping as she read the note that someone had dropped in their mailbox.
Was it possible? Had Jamie really done such a thing? When she asked him about his loyalty to her earlier in the day, she hadn't been all that worried. More than anything else, she wanted to hear him say that he loved her and that he would never do anything like that to hurt her. Never in her wildest dreams would she have imagined that there might have been any actual guilt. She felt like a fool.
She paced about the living room, alternately crying and wringing her hands. She picked up her phone and put it back down. A couple of times she grabbed the car keys. She even went as far as to dig the suitcase out of the hall closet, but she wasn’t going to leave. Not yet anyway.
All she had to go on was a crudely scrawled anonymous note accusing her husband of infidelity; that wasn’t worth risking Peter’s happiness. She wanted to hear Jamie’s side of things, especially now that she had a name to go along with the crime.
Although it hurt like a thousand knives to the heart, Amy read the note one last time and wept openly.
“Ur husband is having an affair with Karen.”
With trembling hands, she picked up the phone and dialed her husband's number. She had to know and couldn't wait any longer. The not knowing was killing her.
“Hey,” Jamie said. “What's up? I'm sorry I didn't get to call you at lunch.”
“I just got a note about you.” Amy struggled to keep her voice from cracking. “Who is Karen?”
“Karen?” Jamie repeated. He tried to seem clueless but overcompensated in the process.
“Yes, Karen. Who is she?”
“Just a friend. Why are you asking?”
“The note says you are having an affair with her. Is that true?”
Jamie went quiet on the other end, and struggled to find his voice.
“Who told you that?”
“I don't know. They left a note. That's not what's important though. I need to know if it's true.”
“Absolutely not!”
“Then why would someone say that?”
Jamie wasn't sure how to respond. His mind raced, trying to