Snakes & Ladders by Sean Slater

‘I’m sure you do.’ When Striker said nothing back, she touched his shoulder again and continued talking. ‘I came over here when I was very young. I’m surprised you heard my accent at all – most people don’t.’
    ‘I’m not most people.’
    She laughed again. ‘I can see that.’
    ‘Will your husband be here soon?’ Felicia cut in.
    ‘My husband . . .’ Lexa Ostermann nodded slowly and the smile fell from her lips. ‘Of course.’ She turned around and walked out of the library. At the doorway, she stopped, fidgeted with her hands and turned back to face them. She looked directly at Striker and the confident look in her eyes seemed to fade. She suddenly seemed smaller and weaker. Concerned .
    ‘Is . . . is everything all right, Detective?’ she asked.
    Striker nodded. ‘We just need to speak with your husband regarding one of his patients.’
    Lexa Ostermann’s face tightened and her big brown eyes got wider. ‘Dr Ostermann is very protective of his patients,’ she said softly. ‘Please, be careful how you word things with him. He gets upset rather easily.’
    ‘We’ll be nothing but professional,’ Striker promised.
    ‘Thank you, Detective.’
    ‘Of course. It was nice to meet you, Mrs Ostermann.’
    ‘The feeling is mutual.’
    She offered Striker another wide smile – one that appeared forced rather than breathtaking – and then disappeared down the hall. When she was gone, Felicia sat back in one of the reading chairs.
    ‘You can put your tongue back in your mouth; she’s gone.’
    Striker blinked, then looked at her. ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’
    ‘Sure you don’t. I have a good many things . . . I’m not most people . . . God, you win the award for corny.’ She picked up one of the magazines from a nearby table and flipped through it.
    Striker looked back down the hall to where Lexa had walked only seconds ago. A bad feeling pooled in his guts. She seemed nervous, and she looked almost afraid. It concerned him. After a moment of thought, he turned to face Felicia.
    ‘Did you find that odd?’
    ‘Your excessive flirting? No.’
    ‘I mean Lexa,’ he said. ‘She looked . . . nervous, or something. And did you hear how she referred to him? The doctor will be with you shortly. Not my husband or Erich – the doctor.’
    Felicia put down the magazine and nodded. ‘Actually, that was odd. I noticed it, too.’
    Striker let the thought sit in his mind for a while as he moved around the small library and assessed the place. Directly ahead of him, to the north, was a large bay window with a seating area and the gas fireplace Lexa had turned on. Everything beyond the window was black – impossible to see with the contrast of the dark outside and the light inside – but Striker knew this area. Out there was the back yard, followed by the cliffs and the inlet beyond.
    He continued looking around the library. On the fireplace mantel were four separate photographs. One, he presumed, for each member of the family. Not together in one, he noted, but each on their own.
    A family together, but apart.
    The first photograph was of Lexa Ostermann. She was smiling back over her shoulder. Seductive, beautiful, confident. Just like she’d been in the foyer. Striker stared at the picture long and hard. The woman was magnetic, and he felt an unexplainable concern for her.
    Felicia took note of him staring at the picture. ‘Maybe she has a wallet-size one she can give you for your alone time,’ she said.
    Striker ignored the comment. He pulled his eyes away from Lexa’s photograph and studied the next ones. The second photograph was of a young man. Could’ve been seventeen, could’ve been twenty – it was hard to tell. He was lean and wiry, with pale skin and eyes so green they looked like coloured contacts. His jet-black hair was thick and wild.
    Felicia came up behind him and stared at the photograph.
    ‘He looks very serious,’ Striker noted.
    ‘He looks like a