‘Gwen, I’m so sorry about this, but . . .’

For a second she looked upset, but Dr. Barnes knew better than most what a call like that meant.

‘It’s OK, Julian,’ she stopped him. ‘I understand.’ She stepped closer and gave him a peck on the lips. ‘How about you drop by whenever you’re done.’ She winked at him. ‘I’ll keep the wine and the tequila chilled.’

‘That’s a deal.’ He smiled before kissing her again, this time for a lot longer.

‘I’ll be waiting.’

Once Webb was gone, Dr. Barnes unlocked her front door and stepped into her living room. Even if she tried to, she wouldn’t be able to get rid of the smile on her face.

She hadn’t dated anyone in nearly two years, and she had almost forgotten how exciting it could be. How a single kiss could make a person feel. And right then, she felt good. So good that the note and bracelet incident had completely slipped her mind. So good that for an instant, she kept the lights switched off, leaned back against her front door, closed her eyes and savored the moment. So good that she failed to notice the dark shadow now standing just outside her window, his eyes staring straight at her.

Seventy

Erica Barnes placed the popcorn bag inside the microwave, set the time to two and a half minutes and hit the start button. While waiting for the ‘pops’ to begin, she poured herself a large glass of wine.

Popcorn and red wine, that was how Erica fought off her Sunday night blues. Not that she suffered badly from it. She didn’t hate her job and the people she worked with were . . . well . . . ‘bearable’ would be the word she’d use. She also didn’t fear Monday mornings. She never had a problem getting up early, and she rarely started her week in a ‘grumpy’ mood, but still, there was just something about Sunday evenings that always made her feel a little sad.

Sunday nights were also poker nights, the nights when Trevor, her boyfriend of two years and who Erica shared her small one-bedroom apartment with, would usually lose one hundred and fifty dollars (maximum stakes allowed) to his friends. True, every now and then he would win a little, but those Sunday nights were rare, to say the least.

But there was one thing about this particular Sunday evening that did excite Erica. Her sister, Dr. Gwen Barnes, was going out on a date. That thought alone brought a smile to Erica’s lips. Gwen hadn’t dated anyone in a very long time and, in Erica’s view, it was about time her sister got back in the game.

They had spoken briefly on the phone earlier in the day. In the conversation, Gwen mentioned that she’d met someone . . . someone who seemed to be a nice person. She also mentioned that they were supposed to go out for coffee later today. Erica’s immediate reaction was to shower her sister with questions: ‘Who is he? Where did you meet? How did you meet?’ But Gwen smoothly dodged the questions by telling her that she was running late for something and that she would call Erica again later, after the date.

Erica heard the first popcorn pop after thirty-three seconds. She placed her wine glass on the counter and leaned forward, getting closer to the microwave. The instructions on the packet said two and a half minutes but, just like most people, she preferred to listen to the time gap between pops. As soon as it got to any longer than two seconds, it was time to stop it.

Erica poured the popcorn into a large bowl, grabbed her wine glass and walked over to her living room. There, she switched on the TV, and dumped herself on to the sofa.

‘OK,’ she said, in conversation with the popcorn. ‘Let’s find something to watch, shall we?’

Before she began flicking through the channels, she reached for her cellphone, took a picture of her wine glass and the popcorn bowl, and quickly uploaded it to her social media page. That done, she swopped the phone for the TV remote.

Flick – Rerun on and old show. Flick – Rerun on and old show. Flick – Rerun on and old show.

‘Are you kidding me?’

Flick – The Real Wives of Somewhere. Flick – The Real Husbands of Somewhere. Flick – Big Brother.

‘No way. This crap is still going on? Do people still watch this?’

Flick – some romantic comedy was just starting.

‘I guess this will do.’

Erica placed the remote down next to her and had a sip of her wine followed by a mouthful of the friends she was just talking to. She had just gotten comfortable, with the popcorn bowl resting on top of her crossed legs, when her cellphone rang.

‘Typical,’ she whispered, reaching for it.

A video-call from her sister.

‘That’s weird,’ she thought. Erica and Gwen didn’t video-call that often. Erica checked her watch: 10:12 p.m. She accepted the call.

‘Hey, Sis,’ she said as the image began materializing on her screen. ‘That was a quick date. Did everything go OK?’

All Erica could see were her sister’s eyes.

‘Sis, you’re too close to the phone. What are you doing? Have you gone blind? Move back a bit.’ She stuffed another handful of popcorn into her mouth.

‘Hello, Erica.’

The voice Erica heard from her phone speakers was scarily deep and time-delayed. Immediately, she frowned at her screen.

‘Sis, you’re too close to the phone. Your voice is distorting. Move back, woman. What’s wrong with you?’

Only then did Erica notice how red her sister’s eyes were. It looked like she’d been crying.

‘Gwen, is everything all right?’ Erica’s tone of voice became ominously serious. ‘What’s going on? What’s wrong?’

Her sister blinked, but there was no reply.

‘Gwen, what the hell? You’re starting to scare me now. Will you say something, please?’

Finally, the image began panning out, but strangely enough it stopped before Gwen’s face came into full view. Erica frowned. She couldn’t see her sister’s ears. In fact, she couldn’t see past the outside edge of her eyes. She was now certain that her sister had been crying.

‘Gwen? What the fuck is going on? Why were you crying? And why is the sound all fucked up?’

. . .

‘Talk to me, Sis.’

‘There’s nothing wrong with the sound,’ the distorted voice came again. To Erica, it sounded like some sort of B-horror film demon’s voice. ‘And your sister can’t answer you because she’s not allowed to speak,’ it continued. ‘If she does, she dies.’

Gwen had an unusual sense of humor. Erica knew that well, but this wasn’t it. She was a psychiatrist, and one thing that she would never do was play with people’s emotions in this sort of way.

‘What?’ Erica’s voice wavered. ‘Who is this?’

‘I’m nobody. But you can be somebody. You can be a hero for your sister. All you have to do is give me two correct answers and all this is over.’

Erica shook her head. ‘What? What questions? What are you talking about?’

‘You’ll see.’

‘No, I won’t.’ Erica sounded angry. ‘What I’m doing is calling the cops.’

‘Do you really think that the cops can get to your sister’s house before I slice her up?’ the demon asked.

Suddenly, a gloved hand appeared on the screen, holding a kitchen knife, its tip just millimeters away from Dr. Barnes’ left eye.

‘I’ll start by gouging her eyes out,’ the demon continued. ‘Then I’ll slice her nose off.’ The tip of the knife moved to it. ‘Then I’ll rip the sides of her mouth open all the way to her ears and leave her here, bleeding to death for the cops to find her. How would you like that, Erica?’

Dr. Barnes’ eyes were filled with desperate panic, as they tried to focus on the knife. Her mouth opened, readying a scream, but fear silenced her voice.