He’s At Your Door Page 5

"So how do we do this?" Beth asks.

  I shake the thoughts out of my head and home in on the idea I have to bypass the signal jammer. "My laptop. It's an old one and still has an Ethernet port. If I find a compatible cable and connect my computer to our modem in the kitchen, I can get us online."

  Beth stares at my laptop, one hand holding an elbow while the other grips her chin. "If we can get back on the web, can you call the police?"

  "I know a way," I say.

  "Okay. So where do you keep the Ethernet cord?" Beth asks with a smile.

  "That's the problem. I'm positive I stored it all away in the small garden shed outside."

  "Outside? You can't be serious." Beth groans.

  "It's not something anyone uses anymore. I don't know why I even have it to begin with. By all rights, I should have thrown it out. Still, we'll check my room first for a cable as I only need about a foot of the stuff to do this. We might get lucky."

  "Lucky? I doubt that word exists within this situation," Beth says. I can see her frustrations growing by the minute. Her shoulders appear to be tightening up with stress. These bizarre circumstances are new to her. I've had five years of build up to prepare for any kind of terrible outcome. Despite me coming up with a potential solution, I don't think Beth will be happy until I resolve this whole problem.

  "Let's try my room. But first, we should take a peek at our friend outside. I think it's best to keep an eye on him at all times. Such a shame he's just beyond the range of my cameras, not that I can access them. Bastard must have known where to watch out for my setup."

  Beth sighs as we walk across the living room to the drapery. "These people seem to know everything about you," she says. "I really think you should tell me more about them or your ex, at least."

  We stop short of the curtain. "Why?" I ask.

  "Because maybe I can help you to understand more. I get you see me as some dumb college student who has no real-world experience, but I might think of a way to get us out of this mess."

  I feel my head swivel away as I try to dodge her words. "You'll be safer if you learn nothing about him."

  "There you go again saying 'him'. I know his name is Zach. You let that slip before. Just explain what he did. It's driving me insane not knowing."

  His full name flicks into my mind: Zachary Sanchez. I hate it. Every letter makes me feel sick. I never breathe those two words unless I have to, and Beth wants me to tell her why he's in prison like it doesn't make me want keel over and die.

  "I can't say it," I whisper. "Please don't force it out of me. I promised the US Marshal I wouldn't reveal anything about him. I shouldn't have told you a single thing about any of this. I should have left the second I got that package. I'm so sorry."

  Beth stares at me, anger across her brow as she holds her gaze at me. She must think I'm the worst person in the world. But as suddenly as her rage comes through, it dissipates. Her face softens. "No, I'm sorry, Karen. I don't know why I want to know what happened. It changes nothing. I guess I'm just losing it."

  "It's okay," I say with a lowered head. "This is what he does to people. That's why I think you're safer off not knowing who he is. I wish every day of my life I'd never met him."

  We share a moment of silence. I can only hope Beth and I have reached an understanding with Zach. I don't like thinking about him let alone talking about the bastard who ruined my future.

  "Let's see what this weirdo outside is up to before we go hunting for my Ethernet cable," I say.

  Beth is ahead and takes the last few steps toward the window. She brushes the curtain open enough for the two of us to spy through a smallish gap at the SUV parked near the house. There's no real need to be subtle anymore. He knows we're here. We know he's out there.

  "What the hell?" Beth blurts.

  I rush over, not liking the sound of her voice. "What is it?" I ask trying to focus.

  "He's gone."

  "What do you mean gone?"

  "Look."

  I squeeze my head around a bar and squint my eyes to the SUV to see that no one is standing beside it. "Where did he go?"

  "I don't know," Beth says. "Maybe he wasn't watching us. Maybe we've just been letting ourselves get paranoid for nothing."

  "But he fits the description Emilio gave me. You overheard that conversation. That guy was a perfect match."

  "I know," Beth says, her voice deflated. "Just trying to convince myself this isn't happening. What do we do now?"

  I grab my cell from my pocket. "Our phones are still being jammed. He must have left the device on before he walked off. Maybe that's all he was supposed to do. Then again, his car is still here."

  "He mustn't be too far away then," Beth says.

  "I guess not." I walk away from the curtain and turn to the side door that leads to the backyard. Focusing on Beth, I recognize she already knows what I will say next.

  "You can't be serious?" she says.

  I nod. "I wish I wasn't, but I think it's time we headed outside to grab that cable."

  Chapter 15

  I stand by the side door and unlock its four deadbolts. Installed here is the same over-the-top configuration as on the front. I figured if someone wanted to break in, they will try this entrance over the front. This side door is more private. It's just a simple matter of jumping over the fence into a narrow pathway that runs along the length of the house. From there, no one can see you.

  Of course, I have a camera sitting above the door, ready to record anyone stupid enough to try such a move, but without the Internet, I'd have no clue until after the fact if anyone had trespassed.

  It makes me seem a little nuts to most people, having such a paranoid setup, but I've had to accept extra precautions to survive.

  "Are you sure about this?" Beth asks. "We have no idea where he is out there. What if he's just around the corner waiting for one of us to come outside?"

  I feel a jitter in my hands. I stop to take a breath and calm my nerves in any way possible. "If I see him, I'll race inside. Don't you worry. Besides, this is the perfect time to do this. He probably thinks we're going to run out the front door and not the rear."

  Beth runs a hand through her blonde hair. "I guess that makes sense. But what if he catches you? He might have a gun on him. Do you think he'd shoot?"

  I shudder thinking about this as I hate guns. It's not that I'm against anyone owning them or anything political, I just have a bad history with them, one I never like to think about.

  "Well?" Beth asks, growing impatient.

  "If he wanted to kill us, he'd have done so already. My ex is taking his time with this to torture me. We're alive because he wants us to be."

  "Oh, great," Beth says, her face drooping with anguish. "Another thing to drive me crazy."

  "Sorry. I didn't mean to be so blunt, but don't worry. I will get you out of this, okay? I promise."

  Beth half smiles. I have no idea if we'll make it out of here, but I'll do what I can to make sure nothing foul happens to her while I still can. Unlike me, she deserves none of the hell Zach has planned for me. "Wish me luck," I say.

  "Wait," Beth says. "What's the idea here?"

  I place a hand on the doorknob and close my eyes. "Simple. I head outside and try to find the cable. The shed isn't far from the dead side of the house. You stay in here by the door and hold it open. If you see or hear anything bad happen, you slam it shut and lock it, okay?" I turn away from her and twist the handle.

  "Wait," Beth says again.

  I glance over my shoulder. "What is it?"

  "Aren't you afraid to go outside?"

  I release my grip on the knob and feel my neck tense up. "Yes. Terrified."

  "So how are you going to do this then?"

  "I'll figure it out. I have to. Zach can't do this to us."

  Beth shakes her head, doubt written across her forehead. "That won't be enough. Despite only living here for three months, I know you. Like you said, you get everything you need shipped in. You work from
home in the study. You're basically an agoraphobic. How long has it been since you last left the house?"

  "I'm not agoraphobic," I say, shame filling my voice. "I've just had to change my lifestyle to survive. That's all this has ever been."

  Beth raises her brow with a tilted head. "Don't avoid the question."

  "I'll be okay, Beth. Trust me," I say, not having an answer for her.

  "What if you collapse? What if you freak out?"

  "I won't." I grab the knob and twist. A crack of daylight floods through, expanding as I open the door further until it's enough for me to squeeze out of a slight gap. Beth follows me and holds it steady, standing half in and half out of the house. "I still think this is a bad plan," she says behind me.

  She's trying her hardest to talk me out of this idea. I can't tell if it's out of concern or if she's afraid. "What else can we do?" I ask without looking back. I feel the day's dry heat swarm over and pull me down the two steps that rise to the side door as I move further outside.

  When my feet hit the ground, an odd sensation overwhelms me as I think about how easy it used to be to do this once upon a time. I've taken something as simple as shuffling a foot outdoors into my backyard for granted.

  I creep along the gravel pathway, ever aware of the crunching sound that my feet make with each step. I wouldn't notice such a thing, but in this agonizing moment, I can hear each of my footfalls as if I were wearing heavy combat boots.

  I reach the end of the house and lean my hand out to grab the corner of the wall. I need to creep up to the edge as much as possible to take a peek around the side to where the small shed lies. It holds mostly rusted gardening equipment that came with the home that I will never use as long as I'm the tenant here.

  On one of my rare trips outside, I noticed the shed and investigated. I remember finding it full of space for me to store junk I was too stupid to get rid of. On top of my other issues, I have a hard time throwing anything out. Just a real winner right here.

  Focusing, I grip the edge of the brick house and pull myself up to the corner. With as much calm as I can find within, I take a quick glance around the backyard. Nothing but half-dead patchy grass meets my eye. A broken-down Toyota Tacoma sits in the grass with flat tires. The owner of the house neglected to remove the pickup from the property long before I moved in. I hate the sight of the decaying wreck.

  With a full sweep of the area, I locate the garden shed sitting only a few quick steps away. Next, I need to find the courage to move out from the safety of the narrow pathway into the open yard. It's not a big space, but it seems to feel like it's the size of a football field.

  My heart thumps hard against my chest as I pull myself around the corner. I scrape my body over the rough brickwork and edge along one step at a time until I reach the shed. It leans against the building at an angle. It's another example of the neglect ever present on the property.

  I make it to the shed and place my hand on its rusty handle only to freeze when I hear the crunching sound of gravel being stepped on from the other side of the house. I pin myself against the wall as hard as I can when I should be running back to the side door inside.

  The crunching grows louder, freezing me where I stand. The footsteps are coming toward me. He'll be in the backyard in a matter of seconds.

  Chapter 16

  "Come on," I whisper to myself as the footsteps continue approaching me from the opposite side of the house. They have to belong to him—the man in the suit. Who else could it be? I listen in to his dress shoes scuffing hard against the gravel, kicking stones along as he goes. Why is he wearing a suit? The outfit makes him stand out in this street. Does he want to appear like some wannabe professional hitman? Has he seen too many movies?

  The footsteps grow louder, forcing more dumb questions into my mind. Is he working to find a path through to the house somehow, or is he trying to see what options we have for escape? Either way, I have to get indoors before it's too late.

  Move, I tell myself.

  I edge back, pushing myself along the wall and away from the shed that potentially holds the Ethernet cable Beth and I sorely lack. Without it, we're not only stuck inside this place, cut off from communication with the rest of the world, but we could be sacrificing our only chance of surviving this ordeal.

  I realize a second later that I've left my escape inside a moment too long and have no option but to rush over to the small garden shed and use it as cover. I press myself as far into it as I can, squishing my face into a corner that consists of cool metal on one surface and dusty brickwork on the other. Will it be enough to hide me? All he'll have to do is move further into my section of the yard to see me. He'll catch me trying to slip away and have no alternative but to kill me where I stand. Beth will be next, leaving no witnesses to this daytime slaughter.

  I can't help these kinds of thoughts. I could never put it past Zach to have me killed. Why though, didn't that thought stop me from taking Beth in? My death, I can handle. But being responsible for an innocent girl's demise breaks my heart in two.

  I hold my breath as the man comes around the corner from the gravel lane to the dirt patch of a backyard that should be lined with grass. He stops. I can hear him breathing and sniffing out loud as he takes in the terrible view. Is he looking for me? Is he learning how much privacy he has if he needs to load up our dead bodies into his fancy SUV? Whatever he's up to, it's distracting him from finding me.

  I stay quiet and still, not wanting to reveal my whereabouts, but the metal of the small shed buckles inward, pulling me with it. I do what I can to let it flex without making too much noise, but the inevitable crack sounds out. My face slams forward to the new indent I've made by pressing too heavily against the material. There's no way he didn't hear me.

  My heart pounds so hard, I swear I feel it flow through to the shed. My pulse rattles in my ear as I attempt to contain my breathing. All I want to do is let out a cry and gulp in all the dry air around me. Two feet scuff in my direction.

  I'm dead. This is how I die. After five years of hell, I'm about to meet my end. Maybe it's for the best.

  His cell chirps out loud with a call, ceasing his movement. A standard ringtone. The guy answers with a "yeah" and listens to the person on the other end.

  Several moments of silence pass by without either one of us moving. Who is he talking to? Is it Zach? He must have the ability to bypass the jammer.

  "Understood," he says. With no further explanation, the man turns back the way he came and walks off. He continues from the dirt patch to the gravel. The sound of his refined steps as they progress away from the garden shed allows me to breathe louder than before.

  I feel my body slide down the brick pattern of the house as I move my face away from the walls. A lungful of terrified air shudders its way out a second later. What the hell just happened?

  * * *

  After too long a time, I pull myself together and start for the door on the other side of the shed. I don't have a second to waste. I know the door will creak the second I operate the handle, but I have to find that cable.

  I pull open the garden shed with slight force and discover a mess and a half greet me. Why couldn't I have left it organized with the box I need sitting in an easy-to-access place? Instead, with enough crap in my way that I have no choice but to make noise, I grab the box I know has the Ethernet cable inside. An outdoor broom topples over my head and clangs hard against the wall of the shed. I stop pulling at the carton and freeze. My luck has run out for sure, not that I had much to begin with.

  I hear his footsteps crunch again over the gravel, faster than before.

  Chapter 17

  "Come on. Run. Just grab it and run," I say to myself. My back is exposed to the world outside of the garden shed as I hear the distant sound of footsteps approaching me again. This time, they are determined and focused.

  "Come on," I repeat, my eyes sealed shut. I have to leave or stay. Run or hide in this tiny metal box. Both ideas have plenty
of potential for failure. It seems to be the only thing I'm good at.

  "Screw this," I whisper. My eyes fly open as I bend down and scoop up the carton I think contains the Ethernet cord I so badly need. I feel the contents of the container smash around in my arms as I stumble out from the shed. I accidentally leave the door wide open, making it clear I was just here, trying to find a desperate way to save both myself and Beth from whichever psycho-for-hire Zach sent after me.

  I run over the dirt-patch lawn to the narrow pathway around the dead side of the house. Beth hangs out of the opening, waving me in. She knows he must be right behind me from the noise I made looking for the Ethernet cabling. Either that or he is right behind me. I'm not turning around to find out.

  We spill back into the living room together. I throw the box to the floor and spin back to slam the side door shut and apply its four deadbolts one after the other. If I could pull the refrigerator down in front of it, I would.

  A surge of adrenaline courses through me, powering me on, giving me a strength I'd forgotten all about. I can't help remembering one time when Zach took me along for a ride in one of his cars as he and his associates robbed a bank before my eyes. I knew what they were planning on doing, but I didn't realize it would pull me into their world with such force.

  When Zach sped off from the cops at speeds I'd never experienced in his modified vehicle, I felt as if I was about to die. I thought the police would force us straight into a tree or a power line pole, killing us instantly for daring to flee. But we got away. Zach had it all worked out. He knew where to go and what to do. He escaped the police chase with hundreds of thousands of dollars sitting on my lap where he'd placed it. I should have left him then. I should have seen through the lifestyle he was seeking to entice me with, but I was too young and naive to think for myself.

  Well, I will not be that ignorant person anymore and let him win this easily. I look at Beth's shaking hands as she clutches her cell. I could picture her struggling to search for a signal while I was gone. Her fingers continue to jitter as I feel a steadiness overwhelm me.