He’s At Your Door Read online

  I carefully fold open the lids and see a lot of screwed up brown paper filling the contents to protect something small. There in the middle is a thick piece of white cardboard. I lift it up delicately with my fingertips and unfold what appears to be a note. My eyes land on the words and read them whether I want to or not.

  I drop the note and the box and fly up out of my seat. I realize in an instant why I'm receiving a strange package in the middle of the night. The box falls fast and tumbles about the ground, but I can't escape the card as it lands face up. I see the messages again written in Latin cursive, centered for my eyes only.

  Omnia mors aequat.

  Like a drone, I stammer the rough translation out loud. "Death makes all equal."

  Chapter 4

  This can't be happening. This can't be real. I didn't just receive a package with next to nothing in it, but a threatening note written in Latin. But it stares back at me, defying my every thought. Once I wrap my head around the concept, I come to terms with the simple fact that the piece of card could have only been sent by one man: my ex.

  The UK meeting continues on screen in the background without me taking down a single letter as my headset dangles from my neck. I drop out of the gathering, not giving an excuse. There's no way in hell I'll be able to concentrate and take down the key points now. I've got bigger problems than losing my job to worry about.

  I leave the box in my study and rush out of the room to make sure every lock on the front door is secured along with the side entry. They are the only ways into this small house. After I triple check each door, I walk around and feel how strong each bar is on all the windows. If my ex wants to break into my home, he's got his work cut out for him. But then again, I know him. If he craves something, he'll find a way. He always has. I can't stop this.

  My feet rush me back to the study so I can pace up and down the room.

  I eventually sit on my office chair and feel my eyes twitch as I try to accept what is happening. Has he found me? Was that him before? Or is this just a big joke? It has to be, right? He can't be out of lockup.

  Why now though? Why after five years of being careful? I thought with the pathetic life I live, practically locked away in my prison I call a home, that I could one day put him to the back of my mind and never have to worry about the truth. I grab a look at the background on my computer of that perfect beach in Vanuatu and allow fear to seize me. Will I ever see that unadulterated water? Will my bare feet ever feel the powdery sand between my toes? He'll reach me before I get my chance. I know it.

  My cell beeps with an email notification. It's Julia from the UK meeting. No doubt she wants to learn what happened. She only cares because my boss David won't receive his critical notes from her company. Whatever deal they were about to broker will be delayed all because of my inability to deliver. Well screw it. I don't care anymore. There are more significant things in this world than some virtual job. I can always dip into my holiday money to survive. I can run further into hiding.

  With my phone in hand, I remember the cameras I have rigged up to the house. They are motion activated, but I only get a notification when someone reaches the front door. Otherwise, I'd be bugged every time a person or a car moved by in the street.

  With that in mind, I search back to the event at the front door and watch from two different angles as the man casually walks up to my house with the box in his hand and a hood over his head. He keeps his face down low and out of sight within his sweatshirt the whole time. It's as if he has done this before. Or worse still, he knew where the cameras would be.

  I scrunch up my brow as I watch the footage over and over. Why couldn't I have sprung for the better model, one with a much clearer image? This isn't the moment to curse myself though. I have to keep a level head and think of my next move. God knows my ex is probably anticipating my every thought. But he can't know everything. There's no way he can know about the go bag I have stashed away filled with clothing, money, a fake passport, and a can of pepper spray, does he? On the off chance this day should ever come about, I prepared that backpack and stuffed it deep in my closet. But things haven't reached that point yet, have they? I need to hold up for a moment to breathe and—

  My cell beeps again, alerting me that someone is at the front door. He's back.

  Chapter 5

  I unlock my phone in a hurry and open the notification with slippery fingers. The few seconds of loading take far too long in my brain to comprehend as my lungs struggle to function. If only I could afford a newer smartphone. Finally, the camera mounted in the front's corner door activates to show me a familiar face. It's Beth, back early. I practically fall into a heap with relief when I view her unlocking the door.

  I close the app and come out of the study, needing to meet Beth in the flesh to stop myself from going crazy. She unlocks a few deadbolts and tries to push through the door not realizing I had set the fourth one neither of us ever used. It's practically industrial and hard to work with.

  "Why won't this open?" Beth's muffled voice asks on the other side of the door. I'll need to think up an excuse as to why I set the fourth bolt.

  Heading over to the front door, I use my key to help Beth get inside. She stumbles through when I undo the final obstacle in her way. I see the travel bags in her hands. She's only twenty-three and has been away visiting her folks during a break from school. Like my previous housemates, Beth's a college student studying at the downtown campus. This, in fact, is an early return for her, by a few days.

  "Whoa, hey Karen. I hope I didn't disturb you while you were working or whatever," she says fresh faced as if it isn't one in the morning. She's a slim pretty young woman who I'd kill to look like. She brushes her perfect blonde hair out of her face, waiting for an answer.

  "No, it's fine, Beth," I say glancing toward my study entrance. "I've finished up for the night." And possibly for every other night after, I think. I'm not looking forward to dealing with David in the morning.

  "What's the deal with the front door? We never set that big lock. Is something up?"

  Beth follows her quick interrogation with a light slap on the door. I need to change the subject fast. I don't want her to get involved in all of this. She doesn't deserve to be caught up in my problems.

  "Why are you home a few days early? And this late?" I ask.

  She scrunches her nose at me, possibly confused by my poorly phrased question.

  I do what I can to cover. "I mean, I thought you'd be home in a couple of days at a reasonable hour."

  "Oh, right. I had a fight with my parents and took the last bus here. Best I don't get into it."

  "Fair enough," I say. "Can I make you a coffee or something?" I ask as I check if the front door is properly secured including the big lock. I use the firm grip I need on the bolt as a means to calm my shaking self down. It helps a little.

  "Sure, why not? I'm too wired to sleep yet anyway. I'm still in travel mode." She falls into the small sofa we have in the combined living and dining section of the house. The kitchen is partially walled off to the side of the area. "I'm not keeping you up, am I?"

  "No. Unfortunately, I was working. Luckily, I'm finished now though," I say with a half-smile. I think about when I'd come home this late at Beth's age. It wouldn't be from taking a bus back home from my parents. It'd be from some crazy party I attended. I got up to some wild things. Beth would be shocked to hear even half of it. But I'm not proud of those days. They led me to him, which in turn set about the worst night of my life. One I'll never forget no matter how much I try.

  "Wait, you didn't tell me about the front door," Beth says again.

  I close my eyes for a moment and hunch. She won't let it go. I have to give her something. Turning back to her with a reassuring smile, I say the first thing that occurs. "I thought I heard a noise is all. Just being careful."

  "Oh, okay," Beth says being used to my overzealous methods when it comes to security. She might not have access to the cameras, but she knows the
y are there and thinks they are a waste of time. She doesn't recognize the reason I need them though. If only I could tell someone about it. But I appreciate that would be a huge mistake, one I promised to never make.

  "What noise did you hear?"

  Damn her ability to detect a problem. I try not to react to her question, but my body language says it all as I start to pace on the spot.

  Beth’s brows narrow in.

  "I don't know. It was probably nothing. I'm just being careful is all. You never know what could happen, so I try to stay safe."

  "Safe? More like you're trapped in this place. You need to chill out and forget all this high-tech security crap. You remind me of my parents. They’re always scared of the world because they watch too much news. Just live a little, you know?"

  I smile and nod politely. It's this kind of conversation that makes her ask me what I’m so afraid of. "You're probably right," I say. It's best to agree and move on so she forgets the whole thing. I can't have her digging around and asking me questions I never want to answer. I've made it this far. I had until that note appeared. Now I don't know what to think or what will happen next.

  I feel my stomach fill with rocks. Beth's company is helping me forget for a moment about my problems. She’s good like this. If only chatting away to her could cause them to all disappear into thin air.

  I walk Beth's black coffee over to her and set it down on our stained table. The house came furnished with enough existing flaws to make it impossible to tell the difference between a new mark and an old one.

  "Thanks," she says, picking up her coffee straight away. She slurps it down as if it's not scalding her throat. I shake my head at her, the way I always do, and sip and blow on my white coffee with sugar.

  We sit in silence, enjoying our drinks for a moment. I stare at Beth and feel happy she is home early. Most people in my situation don't want to accept in a housemate, but I didn't do so without doing my research first. A background check revealed nothing out of the ordinary. Plus, her age works well in her favor. There's no possible way she could be linked to my past.

  I welcome whatever comfort I can from the warm drink in my hands as it draws me gently from reality for a split second. The swirling combination closes my eyes and consumes my senses for a moment before the gravity of the world pulls me back down again.

  "No, wait," Beth blurts out as she sits up straight. "I know what's got you on edge; it's an ex-boyfriend."

  I spill part of my coffee onto my hands and stare at her trying to understand why she just said those words.

  She returns my gaze with a crooked smile and says, "I'm right, aren't I."

  My mouth falls open and responds whether I want it to or not. "How did you know?"

  Chapter 6

  I continue to stare at Beth as she analyses my reaction. I respond with confusion, begging to understand why she so suddenly asked me if I was on edge because of an ex-boyfriend. How, through her fatigued mind, did she conjure up that result?

  I repeat my last question to her, somehow hoping it might change things. "Seriously, how did you know?"

  "Come on," Beth says, "What else could it be?"

  "Anything. I heard a noise. I wanted to be extra cautious. Hell, because I felt like it. What made you jump to that conclusion?"

  Beth drinks the rest of her coffee as if it's not still burning hot. She wipes her mouth and rises to her feet before taking a few steps toward me. I feel my heart pound harder. Does she know the truth about me? Does she know about my ex? I unconsciously step back from her until I crash into the refrigerator.

  "Whoa," she says, "are you okay?"

  I nod. "Sorry, just a bit jumpy is all."

  Beth continues to walk by me into the kitchen to the sink. She speaks over her shoulder while she runs the tap. "Anyway, to answer your question, it's always an ex, in my experience at least. Sometimes they can't stand the thought of you moving on with another person, so they try to make your life a living hell until you either take them back or move away. Are you seeing someone?"

  I scoff. "Definitely not."

  "Okay, well, maybe your ex thinks you are and has lost it a little."

  I shake my head. Why does she know so much about the topic? "Is this something that's happened to you?" I ask.

  Beth pauses. "Not me directly, but to my last housemate—a friend really—when I lived closer to the campus. This guy just became obsessed with her. He followed her to her class. Went to every party she attended. When she said she wasn't interested, he lost it, and things took a sharp turn. Soon he was showing up at our apartment in the middle of the night drunk out of his mind, demanding she be with him. We had to call the cops like six times, but he still didn't get the message. So, eventually we both moved out and thought it best to go our own ways, you know?"

  I shook my head, thinking about Beth's friend. I knew the pain she'd experienced. But my problem is more than some college crush though and is complex to say the least.

  "So, do you have ex trouble like my friend did?" Beth asks.

  I focus my eyes on her with an open mouth. "It's complicated."

  "Oh, come on," Beth says as she goes to leave the kitchen. "Don't give me that line. I won't tell anyone."

  I hold her gently with both arms on her shoulders. "You don't understand."

  "If you aren't interested in talking about it, that's fine," she says, breaking free of my grip without any force.

  My mouth opens to speak, but I stop myself short. She is right. I can't lie to her face and say everything will be okay, because the truth is simple: I have no idea what will happen next.

  "But, seeing as you've been cool to live with for the last three months, I'll let you have your little secret, for now." She gives me a cheeky grin.

  I stare at her for too long until she speaks again.

  "Bring it in." She opens up for a hug. I'm not much of a hugger but I take the gesture and wrap my arms around her. All I can hope in this moment as she squeezes me too tightly is that she forgets everything we've talked about for the last few minutes in the morning and doesn't mention it again.

  Time will tell.

  Chapter 7

  I head to my room after grabbing my laptop from my study. I bring along a strong cup of coffee to keep me going as sleep is the last thing on my mind. Although a solid eight-hour nap would do me some good, I need to focus on my next move if this note has any meaning behind it.

  I still can't believe the message I received. If it means what I think it does, then I could be in great danger. My thoughts quickly shift to Beth. Is she at risk just by living in the same house as me? Should I grab my things and go now to keep her safe? No. I know my ex wouldn't harm an innocent woman despite it all. I'm the one he wants, right?

  Plonking down on my bed, I realize I need to take action fast before I breakdown into a useless wreck if I'm going to get ahead of this thing. I pull out my cell again and review the footage of the man delivering the box. There's something about him that is still niggling at the corners of my mind. I know if I examine the recording enough times, I'll find what I need to point me in the right direction.

  I watch the event from all three cameras I have installed at the front of the house. The footage confirms it's not my ex I'm seeing delivering the package. The height and shape of the man's figure doesn't match. My ex is far taller and thinner than the man who I see standing at my front door like a zombie. Plus, my ex couldn't physically be here seeing as he is locked up behind bars in one of the most secure facilities in the country.

  He's not supposed to know where I am, especially considering the distance I moved away from where I used to live. I guess he finally found me and thought he would have some thug deliver a note to remind me of the past. Did that mean he would then send this person back to take things to the next level?

  The two wide-angled cameras before the front door fail to reveal much other than a determined individual who doesn't appear to be phased by my surveillance system. His hood h
ides his face perfectly from every position. Then it hits me.

  How did he know I had the setup? I've gone to great lengths to hide the cameras away underneath the guttering of the house, so they don't stick out. Most people want you to see the security cameras they've had installed. I don't. I prefer individuals to act the way they normally would as if they thought they weren't being recorded.

  The front camera captures the creepiest part of the man's delivery. It's where he takes his time approaching the door. He seems all too aware of the single step up to the boxed-in portico entrance. Again, I know this isn't the man who actually sent the card, but someone who he paid to make the drop off. I have to continue reminding myself that to prevent my heart from exploding.

  Has this delivery man been here before? Was he given a detailed layout of the exterior of my house? I continue to watch as he stands still after placing the package on the ground. What is his deal?

  Wait! I back up the footage to the moment he bends over to place the box down. The black-and-white image before me isn't very clear, but there's enough there for me to identify a familiar tattoo that's wrapped around the forearm of a pizza delivery guy I know named Emilio.

  Every time I order in a pizza, he's the one to drop if off without fail. I always give him a little extra for the tip as he is never late. Not only is he my pizza guy, but he lives down the street from me with his grandma.

  I get my confirmation when he raises his head up enough for the camera to catch a glimpse of his soup-strainer mustache. I'd recognize it anywhere. It has to be him.

  "What the hell are you doing?" I ask out loud. I cycle through the footage again and stare at Emilio as he bends down to reveal his tattoo on his forearm of Sister Mary with her palms together. Sure, it's a common symbol, but how many guys get this particular thing tattooed on their forearm instead of their bicep?