With cans of liquid courage in his firm grip, he heads over to me and places the drinks down on the coffee table with a thud. He grabs one beer with his oversize paw and cracks it open. A moment later, the can is tossed back so the man can take a huge slurp. Some beer spills down his neck to his now-crumpled suit as he gulps down what looks like a third of the beverage.
The can slams down on the table, spilling a few drops onto the glass surface. A wafting of foul breath floats in my direction. I don't know if this is part of the man's new tactic to torture me or if he wants a beer to get himself through whatever it is he has planned. A quick glance to Beth doesn't give me any answers.
"Still think she's on your side, huh?" he says with a grin as he pushes back his long messy hair and opens his jacket. "Don't make me laugh."
Has he noticed the doubt in her eyes? Has he heard the contempt she holds for me within her voice? He must.
I stare into his eyes and ignore his comments about Beth for a moment. What happens when my confession reaches the web and I've witnessed the aftermath in full? Will he then receive fresh orders from Zach to follow through and kill me? Would Beth be disposed of as well due to everything she's seen and heard?
I can only assume he's planning on killing me the second my new confession has spread far enough online. Otherwise, the rage flowing from his soul doesn't make much sense. The second cell comes out again, already recording.
"So, you don't care to admit who you are," he says, continuing our conversation from before. "That doesn't matter. The Internet will see you on the recording alongside a clear and recent photo of your face. I'm afraid changing your name won't help you avoid the past this time, Marie. That's not the way the world works."
I hold his gaze. "Is it? People escape justice for what they've done every day. Tell me something: how long did it take Zach to find me? How long was he actively looking?"
The man stands over me and grabs my shoulders. "Every damn second after you got Zach sent away for life despite shooting an innocent child." He chuckles to himself. "The world's a pretty screwed up place, huh?"
I shake my head ever so slightly. "And who are you in all of this? Why do you care so much about me getting what I deserve?"
The man stares straight through me, penetrating my soul with his eyes alone. "All you need to know is that I'm where I should be. It's just a shame finding you took so long. I could have been here sooner."
His answer tells me he is more than a hired goon for Zach. If only I could figure out the extent of their relationship. "Was it worth the hassle?" I ask.
The man chuckles. "It will be. Especially if we can save that little video we made. Then you can watch it spread like wildfire online. Everyone will get to see you for who you really are, Marie."
"It was an accident," I blurt. "I never meant to shoot that kid. I would never want such a thing to happen, but it did, okay?"
"Oh, is that right?" he says, leaning closer than before. "This holier than thou attitude didn't stop you from taking the deal though, did it? You've never been upset for what you did to that child. You only cared about what it did to your life."
"That's not true," I say.
The man releases his grasp on my shoulders and stands all the way up. He grabs his beer again and takes another huge swig. Most of the liquid empties into his mouth before he wipes the excess away with his sleeve. That, combined with the sweat pouring off his back, is ruining his suit.
"You think you've got it all worked out," he says, "I'm supposed to feel sorry for you, am I? Guess again, Marie. I didn't come all this way to discuss your interpretation of the past five years. I came here for a confession, and I don’t care what it takes for me to get one."
Chapter 37
"I’m never going to confess," I say out loud to the man’s threat. I regret the words the second they fall out of my mouth, but I had to say them.
"Oh, you will," he snaps. He takes out the knife again and stabs it down hard between my limbs. I flinch and close my eyes, convinced he's just plunged the weapon straight into my thigh. I open an eye and squint to see the blade sticking in the couch and not my body.
"Next one won't miss," he whispers into my ear.
My arms and legs shake as I generate enough courage to say what I plan on saying to rattle the man's cage the only way I can figure to. "You and I both know that knife is for show. If you wanted to use it, I'd be cut up and bleeding already."
He pulls the blade out of the sofa and chuckles at me. Beth receives his attention for half a second as if he is checking for her reaction, eager to keep her full of fear. He no doubt can't afford to lose the edge he has over us both. "You assume you've got this puzzle solved, don't you. I can't harm you while the confession is still up for grabs, can I. Or better yet, you assume I won't make you suffer with a witness watching over us. That's it, isn't it."
His question throws me. I can't answer him without giving away what I know. I try not to reveal anything with my face, but from the grin he gives me I recognize it's already too late.
"Maybe I should send Beth here away and lock her up in her room. It's not like she could escape through those bars you have on the windows. Then we can really get started on things here. What do you think?"
"You don't have to do that," I say, sounding pathetic.
"No, it's a brilliant idea. She doesn't need to see this, does she? After all, it's your fault she's here. You're liable for any harm that befalls her."
"No. I tried to warn her. She wouldn't listen."
"Enough!" he yells. He glances back to Beth as if to dismiss her from this situation. "Why don't you head to your bedroom and give Marie and I some time to talk alone."
Beth glances at me and back to Zach's man. With a nod, she complies and walks toward her bedroom. My mouth falls open as I watch her leave without a fuss. The door to her room shuts a moment later, sealing my fate.
"There we go. Alone at last," he says as he plays with the knife. "Now, where were we?" He pretends to think out loud. "Oh, that's right."
Our eyes meet. "Please, you don't have to do this. Whatever your connection is to Zach, I guarantee you hurting me won't make things better."
He chuckles again. "There you go, thinking you can bargain your way out of this. But you know what? Maybe giving you pain is what's needed to bring balance back to this situation we find ourselves in. We spend so much time trying to convince each other we can talk matters out, that violence isn't the answer. What happened to the simpler times when life wasn't so damn complicated, huh?"
I close my eyes, unsure if he's serious or messing with me. I have to think of something, of anything to say to bring Beth back out here before he does what her presence has stopped him from doing.
"Open your eyes," he says. "You don't get to look elsewhere. You can't just run off like you did in that gas station and leave a young boy for dead. There's no deal waiting for you to sign to make this all disappear." He presses the weapon down against the top right-hand side of my chest.
"This is where you shot him, isn't it," he says, trying to hold my gaze. "Do you think Zach would have ever fired his weapon at a kid? He wouldn't, right? Yet here you are, free as a bird."
I feel the blade press in and pierce my skin through multiple layers. Blood seeps out my clothing as I do what I can to fight against the pain. I can't let him win. The blade twists a little in the small wound for what feels like an eternity.
Finally, the knife lets up. I gasp for air.
"Look how strong you are. Not a single flinch. I'll bet that really hurts too."
"Not at all," I say through gritted teeth.
"Is that right? Maybe we should make this interesting then, seeing as you're so tough." He pulls out his pistol from the back of his pants and jams it into the fresh wound.
I scream, unable to fight through the pain this time, and wait for him to squeeze the trigger. He presses the gun as hard as he can into my chest.
"Screw the confession. Tell me why I shou
ldn't put a bullet in you right now and end this."
I shake my head, but no words come out to back up my failing argument. I can't speak through the searing pain in my rib cage as it sends lightning bolts down through my entire system.
"Dad!" Beth yells out from the hallway.
"Dad?" I whisper in a fog. Did Beth just say what I think she said or am I dreaming?
The man yanks the pistol out of my chest. He looks up to his daughter. I twist around as best I can to see her from this side of the sofa.
"What?" he asks, hands out wide.
"This isn't what we agreed to. And besides, do you think she'll confess again if she's dead?"
My brain spins inside my head. What’s happening? Who are these people? I stare at Beth as she walks further into the room and settles beside her father. I try to speak.
"Confused, Marie? Allow me to introduce myself," Beth's dad says as he cuts his daughter's restraints away. "My name is Steven Price, and this is not Beth. This is my daughter, Toni Price."
My eyes almost burst out of my head and dash between the pair. Their surname—Price—It can't be. "Wait."
Beth leans down and sneers in my face. Everything about her demeanor changes in the space of a few seconds. The horrible thing I did wasn't to a complete stranger. She's related to Tommy Price. They both are.
Her hand leaps out and grabs me by the throat. She moves to within an inch of my eyes. "You shot my brother," she whispers, "and the whole world will know about it."
Chapter 38
Toni Price – Five years earlier
Tommy's coma had gone on for a month. I couldn't stand seeing my baby brother like that. In the past, he was constantly on the move, always charging around the place, exploring the world. Tommy had been that way from the moment he could crawl.
I remember when I was still at home, midway through my senior stages of high school, when he'd rush around on all fours from one end of the house to the other, only concerned with the journey. He never seemed to worry where we were or what we were up to. He'd just crawl along the floor, soaking in life through his oversized blue eyes.
It went without saying that Tommy wasn't a planned child. I was sixteen when he came into our lives. I didn't like the idea of having a baby brother to handle while I finished up high school as I'd gone this long without one. I was supposed to be concentrating on getting through the next few years so I could get accepted into a college of my choice. Instead, I would have to contend with a crying kid at all hours of the night.
My mother went from being an attentive rock, on which I could always depend, to a sleepless wreck who didn't have the time to deal with my ‘teenage crap’ as she so lightly put it. My father became a walking husk, always out working overtime as an EMT to keep the money flowing in. Things had changed.
Needless to say, I was your typical teenager at that age. I thought the world was against me, and I couldn't see past my own needs to the bigger picture. At least not until Tommy first smiled at me and grabbed hold of my pinky finger with his entire fist. I never thought you could go from feeling indifferent about a living thing to loving them so unconditionally that you'd do anything to defend them.
Despite the difficult time we were having as a household, we all realized the presence of Tommy enriched our lives. I'd always wanted a little brother or sister to boss around when I was younger, but my parents feared bringing another child into the world, as I too was an unplanned baby. My mom and dad had never aspired to be a mother and father, but I came along either way. It seemed Tommy resulted from history repeating itself. It was just a shame he couldn't have been born ten to fifteen years earlier.
Nevertheless, we were a family, and I wouldn't have traded places with anyone. Having such a young brother matured me quicker than I realized. Suddenly, there was someone else to put over my own needs. And nothing could compete with watching the little guy learn and grow.
The sound of the multiple monitors beeping away brought me back from the past, reminding me we were in a hospital sitting around Tommy's broken body. The machines kept him alive. My mother sat closest to him, always holding one of his hands in hers while my dad stood against the wall, arms crossed. Anger coated his face to the stage where I didn't remember him having any other expression. I knew deep down it killed him to sit there and see his little boy that way while he remained powerless to do a thing about it.
The silence between us was deafening. I felt like opening the closed door to allow the sounds of the ward staff to flow in. I didn't know how to deal with the situation. There I was, about to turn twenty-one with a six-year-old brother in hospital on life support.
Not being able to stand another second of the nightmare, I got up out of my chair and moved to the single window that held a demoralizing industrial view. It was ugly, but it was better than the sight of my broken family.
I thought about what my dad had told me, about my baby brother being shot by some criminal in a gas station in Long Beach, California. Tommy was in the wrong place at the worst possible time, caught between a moron struggling to rob the store and the store attendant working to defend his business. They fired at each other in the open with no concern about who else might be around until the robber ‘accidentally’ shot Tommy.
The bullet struck my brother high in the right-hand side of his chest. The piece of lead actually bounced off his bone and struck him in the skull so hard his brain swelled.
I couldn't stomach the thought someone would do that to a little boy whether they meant it or not. And, to make matters worse, it was all my fault. My dad, my mom and my brother were all coming up to visit me on campus in Los Angeles. I was studying to become a registered nurse, motivated somewhat by my father being an EMT. They had accepted me into a course that was over a thousand miles from home.
During a short break, my family flew over from where we lived in Lakewood, Colorado just outside of Denver to surprise me. I flew home during the breaks, but this term I couldn't afford it. I'd spent the extra money I earned from the two part-time jobs I had on clothing I didn't need. My mom and dad knew I would be homesick and missing them all, so they made the effort to come to me.
Having never stepped foot in the Los Angeles area, they turned the trip into a worthwhile one by seeing the sites before they came to visit me. They toured Hollywood, Beverly Hills, Santa Monica, and spent a few hours down at Long Beach soaking up the sun before the surprise. It was on the way back up in their rental car that things took a turn.
My father was filling the sedan up with fuel while Mom slept in the passenger seat. Tommy should have been doing the same after the lengthy day they'd all had, but he was wide awake and hungry, according to my dad. Wandering into the store on his own, Tommy did not understand he would end up in the middle of a shootout between two insane people.
It's my fault he was there. If I'd only been able to restrain myself from wasting my money, I could have afforded a plane ticket to fly home. I could have prevented my family from coming up. Then Tommy would have never been shot by some desperate robber and placed on life-support, fighting for his young existence.
Chapter 39
Marie – Now
My mind is spinning. The family of the boy I accidentally shot has discovered me, tricking me into assuming it was Zach who was out to throw down a line of revenge upon my very existence. I don't know which is worse: me thinking Zach had sent someone out to kill me, or that Tommy Price's kin has found me.
I'm staring at that little boy's father and sister, absorbing their hatred, still trying to comprehend that Beth isn't who she told me she was. I took her in, believing she was just another student looking for a room to rent. She seemed so innocent from the moment I met her. Whatever she did to fabricate this personality is beyond impressive.
The Beth I know is gone. The gentle caring college girl who stayed when I warned her to leave was all but a fake. In her place is Toni Price, the older sister of the little boy I never meant to hurt. The thought makes me thin
k about the brother she told me was a cop. Was that nothing but a lie? Without a doubt. She misled me for three months pretending to be a sweet, dedicated student. What else was just words from her mouth designed to make me believe she was Beth?
Toni stands back from me in the living room as if the air I breathe is toxic. She sees me staring at her for too long and steps forward with a newfound confidence I hadn't seen in the version of herself she once showed me.
"I'll bet you're freaking out, huh?"
I nod, not knowing where to begin. I still feel like I'm talking to Beth, but I'm not. The whole time ‘Beth’ and I were trying to escape the man hanging around in the street, she was pretending to be on my side, playing me with ease. All just to get a confession.
Every setback we had, each strange thing that happened, Toni was the one behind it while communicating with her father. Every time she left the room or when I didn't have eyes on her, she must have been on the phone with her dad somehow. Or maybe they'd bugged the house, giving him the ability to listen in on our every vocalized thought. I feel a sickness wash over me.
"Look at her," Steven says. "Like a deer in headlights."
I ignore his insult and think more about Toni's lies as Beth. The Ethernet cable wasn't broken; she destroyed it. Insider knowledge of my paranoid security setup allowed her to work my cameras, window bars, and deadbolts against me. She and her father also knew all about Zach and my relationship with him. They adopted our past as much as possible to drive me insane. The Latin note was the ultimate cherry on top that sold it all. They could have only gotten that perfect detail from Zach. Did they visit him in prison?
Toni steps closer, stopping in front of my feet with a smirk. I wince at the pain in my chest and shoulder and stretch my neck. Locking eyes, I say the only words on my mind. "Who are you?"
He's At Your Door: a gripping psychological thriller Page 12