Dark Boundaries

Chapter Two

Erik took a small step backwards, trying to absorb the information his mother had just revealed. For the first time in his life, he knew his father's identity, but the name meant nothing to him.

He grabbed a chair, sat down, and faced the distraught woman. He could care less about the man who fathered him, but the idea of tormenting his mother before he killed her captivated him. The woman loved to be the center of attention, and now she was about to perform her final act.

"Mother," he said softly, trying to entice her into a false sense of security, "tell me about my father."

"Kwai Chang was a gentle and caring man who had a strong passion for life and nature," Patrice said, ignoring the tears that streamed down her face. "He never held a grudge against anyone."

Erik laughed cruelly. "I bet I could have changed his mind."

.

"No, Erik, you couldn't," she answered with sincerity. "Your father would have found some seed of goodness in you. He believed with all his heart that nobody was beyond redemption. He was a very special man."

"Special? You've got to be kidding!" Erik said, completely disillusioned. As a child, he imagined his father as a war hero, a strong-willed individual who demanded the world and got it. From his mother's brief description, his father apparently was one of those long-haired, peace-waving, anti-war groupies who wore tie-dyed T-shirts and drove around in a Volkswagen van with flowers painted on it. "The man as a hippie," he snorted.

"He was not," Patrice protested, surprising her son with her new found courage. "Kwai Chang Caine…"

"Oh shut up," Erik snapped, interrupting his mother. "I don't care if the man was the president, he means nothing to me, just like you." He pulled out a stiletto and slowly ran his finger up and down the sharp blade. "I've planned this for a long time, Mother. I made sure people believed you were the blabbering idiot. I've even planted a suicide note in the kitchen."

"Nobody's going to believe I killed myself."

"Yes they will. You've been so depressed lately that your best friend made an appointment with a psychologist behind your back."

"But I…"

"Haven't been depressed?" Eric taunted, advancing towards his mother's cowering form. "People will believe anything with enough persuasion. Thanks to a few phone calls, I had your doctor convinced you were over the edge, and he agreed not to prescribe you any more sleeping pills. You played right into my hands yesterday by throwing that tantrum inside the drug store when the pharmacist refused to refill your prescription. Several people were asking if you had escaped from a mental home when the cops escorted you out of the building."

"How did you know about that?"

"I know everything, Mother." Erik grinned maliciously, and placed the stiletto against her neck. "I even know when you're going to die."

Suddenly the door smashed open, interrupting Erik's moment of satisfaction.

"Erik, drop the knife."

He turned and faced the intruder. "I guess I underestimated you, Gramps. I was sure you'd still be digging that hole in Egypt."

"You guessed wrong, Erik, and now you'll never see a penny of my money - you're disinherited," Ben said with satisfaction and then glanced at his daughter. "Let your mother go."

"She's not going anywhere," Erik said. He tightened the hold he had on her and raised the knife to her neck.

Ben pulled out a long silver chain with a gold key dangling from it. "I think this will make you change your mind."

Erik immediately recognized the key and gasped. "Where did you find that?"

"Let your mother go and we'll talk," Ben demanded.

Erik quickly obeyed, never taking his eye off the chain. Patrice rushed to her father's side. "Dad, give him what he wants. I…."

"Patrice, do as I told you. If anything happens to me, remember whom I told you to contact. Now go!" he said, and practically shoved her out of the room.

Once she was gone, Ben turned to his grandson. "When you had the house remodeled and moved to this isolated road, I believed you when you said it was a surprise for your mother."

"It was a surprise for…"

"Stop lying, Erik," Ben said, tossing the key to Erik. "I discovered your little room and where it led." He pointed at the chain. "Did you really think you could keep it a secret from me?"

"Well, I have for three years," Erik declared smugly. "With you overseas, I had plenty of time to create my little underground black market warehouse. Mother never had a clue what I was doing because she was too busy trying to prove all of those damned conspiracy theories she believed in."

"If you hadn't encouraged her, she never would have chased such foolish notions."

"Encouraged her?" Erik laughed. "Who do you think hired that NASA impersonator to feed Mother that baloney? He had her convinced the moon landing was a hoax, and Martians were behind the crop circles in England." He smiled, shaking his head at his own cruel joke. "Do you know people are still talking about the exclusive Mother gave to the New York Times three months ago? I can still see the headline now. 'Award winning writer, photographer, and editor claims she was abducted by space aliens."

"You destroyed Patrice's reputation, both personally and professionally. If it hadn't been for my influence, she would have been locked away and forced to undergo psychiatric treatment." Ben sadly turned away from his grandson. "I had so much hope for you, Erik. You have could have had everything, but you threw it all away. And for what? Money?"

"You can't even imagine what I'm getting, old man."

"I can't let you get away with this."

"How do you plan to stop me, Gramps," Erik taunted. "Talk me into seeking forgiveness?"

Patrice looked in both cars, desperately hoping to find a set of keys in one of them so she could get help for her father, but both of the vehicles were locked. Panicked, she ran to the only other house on the secluded street, praying her neighbor was home.

The neighbor's front porch light guided her to the marble steps, and she banged on the oak door. "Marsha! Marsha, are you home? Please, help me."

Within seconds, the door opened and Marsha Thomas appeared. "Quick, come inside," she said, pulling Patrice into the house and immediately locking the door behind them. "It's Erik, isn't it? I've tried to warn you for years about him, but…"

"We got to call the police," Patrice screamed hysterically. "My father's in danger. Erik will kill him unless we get help."

"Calling the police is useless and you know it. The sheriff will claim you're crazy and threaten to put you away, just like he did the last time you called him. Besides, Erik owns the police and every lawyer within a twenty-mile radius." Marsha ran to the coat rack and searched the pockets of her coat. She pulled out her keys and gave them to her friend. "Take my car. Do you have somebody who can help you?"

"Yes, my cousin. If he can't help me, nobody can. Where's your telephone?"

"By the stairs."

Patrice took a deep breath and made her way to the stairs. She picked up the phone, dialed a number, and then cleared her throat as she waited for someone to answer.

"Hello," a female voice answered.

"It's me, Patrice. I know it's been awhile but I'm in trouble." Her hand trembled uncontrollably. "I need to get in touch with Dobbin. It's urgent. You know I would never ask if..."

"Patrice, calm down. I'll call him. Can you call me back in an hour?"

Patrice bit her lip, nervously glancing back at the locked front door. "How about five minutes?"

"I can try."

"That's all I'm asking. Thank you." She hung up the phone and started pacing. "Five minutes will seem like a life time. I don't know if I have that much time."

"Get out of here before Erik comes after you," Marsha said, escorting her neighbor to the door. "You can call your cousin from a phone booth. Go! I'll do what I can to buy you some time."

"My father..."

Marsha hugged her friend, perhaps for the last time. "Your father is sacrificing his life to save yours. Don't let him die in vain. Go."

The two women hugged again. Patrice, without looking back, did as she was told.