Thr3e Read Free

do it.”
    Kevin could hardly comprehend what he was hearing. Was this for real? It had to be a practical joke. Peter? Did Peter from Intro to Psych know him well enough to pull a stunt like this?
    “Who . . . who is this?”
    “You like games, don’t you, Kevin?”
    There was no way Peter could sound so condescending.
    “Okay,” Kevin said. “Enough. I don’t know what—”
    “Enough? Enough? No, I don’t think so. The game is just starting. Only this one is not like the games you play with everyone else, Kevin. This one’s for real. Will the real Kevin Parson please stand up? I thought about killing you, but I’ve decided this will be much better.” The man paused, made a soft sound that sounded like a moan. “This . . . this will destroy you.”
    Kevin stared ahead, dumbfounded.
    “You may call me Richard Slater. Ring any bells? Actually, I prefer Slater. And here’s the game Slater would like to play. I will give you exactly three minutes to call the newspaper and confess your sin, or I will blow that silly Sable you call a car sky-high.”
    “Sin? What are you talking about?”
    “That’s the question, isn’t it? I knew you’d forget, you stupid brick.” Another pause. “Do you like riddles? Here’s a riddle to jog your mind: What falls but never breaks? What breaks but never falls?”
    “What? What’s—”
    “Three minutes, Kevin. Starting . . . now. Let the games begin.”
    The phone went dead.
    For a moment, Kevin stared ahead, phone still plastered to his ear.
    A horn blared.
    The cars ahead were moving. The Mercedes was impatient again. Kevin pressed the accelerator, and the Sable surged forward. He set the phone down on the passenger seat and swallowed, throat dry. He glanced at the clock. 12:03 .
    Okay, process. Stay calm and process. Did this really just happen? Of course it just happened! Some madman who called himself Slater just called my cell phone and threatened to blow up my car. Kevin grabbed the cell phone and stared at its face: “Unavailable, 00:39 .”
    But was the threat real? Who would really blow up a car in the middle of a busy street over a riddle? Someone was trying to scare the snot out of him for some maniacal reason. Or some sicko had randomly chosen him as his next victim, someone who hated seminary students instead of prostitutes and really intended to kill him.
    His thoughts spun crazily. What sin? He had committed his sins, of course, but none that stood out immediately. What falls but never breaks? What breaks but never falls?
    His pulse pounded in his ears. Maybe he should get off the road. Of course he should get off the road! If there was even a remote chance that Slater meant to carry out his threat . . .
    For the first time, Kevin imagined the car actually filling with a blast of fire. A shaft of panic ripped down his spine. He had to get out! He had to call the police!
    Not now. Now he had to get out. Out!
    Kevin jerked his foot off the accelerator and slammed it down on the brake. The Sable’s tires squealed. A horn shrieked. The Mercedes.
    Kevin twisted his head and glanced through the rear window. Too many cars. He had to find a vacant spot, where flying shrapnel would do the least damage. He gunned the motor and shot forward. 12:05 . But how many seconds? He had to assume three minutes would end at 12:06 .
    A dozen thoughts crowded his mind: thoughts of a sudden explosion, thoughts of the voice on the phone, thoughts of how the cars around him were reacting to the Sable jerking along the road. What falls but never breaks? What breaks but never falls?
    Kevin looked around, frantic. He had to dump the car without blowing up the neighborhood. It’s not even going to blow, Kevin. Slow down and think. He ran his fingers through his hair several times in quick succession.
    He swung into the right lane, ignoring another horn. A Texaco station loomed on his right—not a good choice. Beyond the gas station, Dr. Won’s Chinese Cuisine—hardly better. There