A Knock at the Door

by Ellis, T. W.

  3:11 a.m.

  The house sits on a spur of land facing the ocean. The Atlantic is black like the night above it, with waves breaking in crests of shining silver in the moonlight. White sand stretches in a straight line south from the house until the night swallows all. Far away from any other living souls I expected quiet, stillness, but the ocean is noisy and never rests. It roars with every breaking swell and I feel its animosity. The ocean does not want us here. The ocean does not like us.

  I’m leading, although I’m being led. Leo is behind us, marching Trevor and me along the dunes. The sandy ground is uneven and treacherous in the darkness. I lose my footing often but I’m agile enough not to fall or turn an ankle. Trevor is less able and I reach out to grab his arm and help his balance on several occasions and each time this angers him and he shoos away my help.

  Then he falls.

  On his hands and knees he’s immobile. He’s hurt, but it’s his ego that hurts the most and he can’t look at me as I help him back to his feet. Leo doesn’t help. Leo keeps his distance at all times, as though we might attack him. Perhaps Trevor would, given the opportunity.

  Trevor limps and puts a hand to my shoulder for support. In turn, I reach an arm around him and he nods thanks he’s too embarrassed to say aloud and I nod in silent acknowledgement of that thanks, yet it’s unnecessary. I would do anything for this sweet old man who has done so much for me.

  Please don’t hurt him, I plead in silence to Leo.

  My eyes are damp and it’s not the cold sea air that causes me to wipe them with my free sleeve. Trevor notices and says nothing and I’m glad.

  ‘Almost there,’ Leo says from behind.

  A needless comment because the house is obvious and so is our proximity to it. Almost there, yet so far from the end. Can everything be resolved now? Can anything be repaired?

  I don’t see how. I don’t see an end that puts things right.

  My husband is walking behind me and I cannot hope to understand his intentions because I don’t know him any longer. I know who he was, not who he is now.

  Did I ever know him?

  I realise Trevor is supporting me as much as I am supporting him. Our pains are different but our suffering is equal.

  ‘What are you talking about?’ Leo demands to know.

  Neither Trevor nor I had spoken. Leo’s paranoid.

  ‘Nothing,’ I tell him.

  ‘You’re whispering to each other.’

  I don’t look back. ‘Why, Leo? Why would we whisper?’

  He doesn’t answer.

  ‘Why would you worry if we did whisper?’

  Again, no answer but the roar of the breaking waves.

  We’re not welcome here.

  The house is small and old, but it is not rundown. The wind and salt have assailed it without mercy and it wears little scars as testaments to its endurance. Paint is chipped and faded. Wood is warped. The porch steps creak and whine underfoot.

  ‘Use these,’ Leo says, pushing keys into my hand.

  I stare into his eyes, once baby blue yet now changed to a glacial shade devoid of warmth.

  ‘What happened to you?’ I ask him.

  ‘I’m trying to keep us alive, Jem. Please don’t forget that.’

  ‘Yet I feel we’ve already died.’

  ‘Don’t be so melodramatic,’ he says back. ‘This isn’t the time for one of your episodes.’

  My eyes dampen again. His mocking words slice through my resolve. ‘My episodes?’

  ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. I know this is stressful. I … Please, let’s just get in the house. I’m going to make right, I promise.’

  ‘How, Leo? How can you possibly make this right?’

  He’s angry my unshakable faith in him has gone.

  ‘What are we doing here?’ I ask.

  ‘You know why,’ Leo replies. ‘We need to hide. We need to lie low. This is the safest place.’

  ‘For you, or for us?’

  ‘I’m doing this for us, Jem. Why can’t you see that? You realise I could just have gone, don’t you? I could have left you and never come back. If I was acting purely in my own interests I would just have run. In fact, that’s what … ’

  He trails off, and I see that he almost said too much.

  ‘What?’ I demand. ‘In fact what?’

  ‘Forget it. I’m tired. I’m stressed.’

  ‘Forget what, Leo? What were you about to tell me? You’re saying you could have left me like I’m supposed to be grateful that you didn’t abandon your wife? Oh, thank you so much, dearest husband, for not abandoning your wife to the people trying to kill her.’

  ‘Jem—’

  I’m not done. ‘The people, lest we forget, that are your associates. The people, lest we forget, who would never have come after me if it weren’t for you. The people you were running away from. The people I … ’

  This time it’s me who trails off, but not because I’m scared of saying too much but because I now understand the truth.

  ‘My God,’ I say. ‘That’s what.’

  Leo is silent. He knows I know.

  ‘That’s what you were going to say, isn’t it? The people you were running away from.’

  Leo struggles to hold my gaze.

  ‘This morning. That’s what you were doing, isn’t it? You told me you were going away on business when in fact you were running away. You knew you had been found out, didn’t you? You knew Wilks and Messer would come for what was rightfully theirs.’ It takes an enormous amount of self-restraint to get the next words out. ‘You left me. You abandoned me.’

  ‘But I came back,’ is all he can say.

  ‘You left me,’ I say again. ‘You knew they were coming and you left me behind.’

  ‘I came back.’ He’s blurry through the tears.

  ‘You didn’t even warn me.’

  ‘I came back for you.’

  ‘Stop saying that,’ I yell at him. ‘You have no right to say that to me. I could have been killed. I nearly was killed. You knew the danger I was in and you didn’t say a thing. But why would you? If you warned me then you wouldn’t get a head start.’

  Trevor says, ‘You’re a coward. You’re the worst kind of coward.’

  Leo, enraged, raises the pistol to strike Trevor with it.

  I push myself between Leo and Trevor.

  For a moment, I’m not sure what will happen.

  ‘Everyone calm down,’ Leo says, lowering the gun. ‘What’s done is done. If either of you wants to get out of this mess then we do it my way. Now, before we go inside, does anyone have a problem with that?’

  Trevor says nothing.

  I look at the gun in my husband’s hand and say, ‘No.’

  ‘Good,’ he says, cold and sharp. ‘So just open the damn door.’

  I do. I wipe my eyes and steady my fingers and unlock the door that opens into a deep blackness where all hope is absent.

  I’m hesitant to enter this abyss, as is Trevor. Leo has to shove us across the threshold.

  ‘What kept you?’ Carlson asks from within the black.

  3:16 a.m.

  Carlson has his gun aimed our way. We’re all taken by surprise except I shouldn’t be surprised by Carlson’s appearance here. He’s already shown himself to be determined and resourceful. I realise I don’t care any more. I’m done with this.

  I just want it over, whatever that means.

  ‘Everything okay out there?’ Carlson asks. ‘Sounded like you weren’t all getting on so well.’ He looks at me and my red eyes and tear-stained cheeks. ‘But I’m glad to see it’s all been resolved so … amicably.’

  Carlson lowers the gun. I tense at this, ready to spring into action one final time, but I feel Leo’s hand around my arm.

  ‘It’s okay,’ he says. ‘It’s okay.’

  I’m not sure what he means. Does he have some plan? Does he have some way of getting us out of this? Yes, is the answer. Yet my eyes widen at how simply, how easily
, it’s brought to fruition.

  Leo releases my arm and approaches Carlson.

  They shake hands.

  ‘You did it,’ Carlson says.

  Leo nods. ‘Thanks for your assistance.’

  ‘All part of the service.’

  I’m open-mouthed witnessing the exchange. I thought it was all lies, about Rome, about Carlson. Didn’t Wilks say Leo was making it all up?

  He returns to me and says, ‘Give me the SD card.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Just do it, Jem,’ he tells me. ‘Give it to me so this can be done.’

  ‘You’re going to give it to Carlson,’ I say. ‘But why?’

  ‘I couldn’t do all this on my own,’ Leo tells me. ‘The money’s no good if it’s in my name, if I’m connected to it. That’s where Carlson helps out. He invests it on my behalf.’

  He steps forward. ‘For a modest percentage of the profits, of course.’

  I’m reluctant, but I know I have no choice. My life isn’t even my own any more. I pass the micro SD card to Leo, who then hands it to Carlson.

  ‘I’ll get right to work,’ Carlson says, opening the front door and letting in a blast of cold sea air. ‘Message me when you’re out of the country.’

  Then he’s gone into the night.

  Leo heads to the kitchen and opens the fridge while I just stand still, not knowing what to do, what to say, what to think. Trevor rests a comforting hand on my back that provides no comfort.

  I hear Leo twist open a bottle of beer, which he swigs as he returns to us. He seems pleased with himself, victorious. He doesn’t like the look on my face and tries to ignore it while he enjoys his celebratory beer.

  ‘I’ll make all of this up to you, Jem,’ Leo tells me when he’s finished. ‘I don’t know how I will, but if you give me the chance, I’ll spend the rest of my life trying. If you have even a flicker of love left for me, say you’ll give me that chance. It’s not a promise. I don’t expect you to see me now how you used to see me, but just say you’ll try. Say you’ll allow me to be your husband again one day.’

  I can’t talk, but I nod. I can try. I can do that, can’t I?

  ‘Thank you,’ Leo says. ‘We can start again. Wouldn’t you like to start again?’

  I nod. I do want to. I wish everything could be reset, to go back to the way it was before this nightmare began.

  ‘It’s not going to be easy,’ he continues, ‘I understand that. But I also need you to understand one thing. I need you to understand that this has to be a fresh start.’

  I nod.

  ‘It has to be just you and me, Jem. We have to go away together, alone. Where no one knows us and no one knows what we’ve been through. Do you understand that?’

  I nod once again, although it’s a tentative nod. It all seems so obvious I’m growing concerned that I don’t fully understand what he’s saying.

  I don’t, it turns out.

  ‘Good,’ he says. ‘I want you to remember this conversation. I want you to remember every word. It’s really important that you do.’

  ‘Why?’ I ask, now scared. ‘Why is it so important?’

  ‘Close your eyes, Jem,’ he tells me. ‘Don’t watch.’

  I’m confused, yet only for an instant. I know exactly what he’s going to do.

  ‘No,’ I scream.

  Too late.

  He shoots Trevor.

  3:19 a.m.

  A single shot to the chest.

  Trevor falls straight down, legs collapsing, and I’m pushing away Leo’s attempts to stop me as I rush to Trevor’s side, half-sliding, half-falling to my knees. I don’t know what to do. I press my palms over the wound. I’m crying. I’m screaming.

  Trevor’s eyes are closed. He’s not moving. He’s not reacting.

  Dear, sweet Trevor. The best man I ever knew.

  He’s dead.

  ‘It had to be done,’ Leo says, behind me. ‘It has to be just you and me, Jem.’ I feel his hand on my back. He’s trying to comfort me. ‘This is how it has to be from now on, the two of us. Only the two of us.’

  He takes my shoulders, strong fingers pressing into my skin, my flesh. He helps me to my feet, holds me, pulls me closer to him as he speaks, as he pleads. I hear some words, I miss others. His breath, sour with dehydration and beer, is hot on my face. His saliva flecks my cheeks.

  ‘Are you listening to me, Jem? Do you understand what I’m telling you?’

  I nod because I know that’s expected of me. I’m the dutiful little terrified wife. He’s talking, explaining, justifying. He’s arguing with me but I’m not arguing back. I couldn’t if I wanted to. My ears are ringing from the sound of the gunshot, a relentless tinnitus whine interrupted with Leo’s words and the awful memory of Trevor’s last gasp for air.

  Leo, my husband, unrecognisable before me. A blur through bleary eyes. I’m crying for Trevor, for me, and for this man I no longer understand.

  I’m wrong, I realise. I do understand him. Finally. How could I have been so ignorant to what must have been obvious? Was I blind? Did I allow myself to be fooled? Did I so want Leo to be perfect that I ignored any sign that he was not? Have I lied to myself all this time? Whatever the answer, now I know him, now I understand who he is, in this moment.

  ‘You’re a monster,’ I say.

  He makes a sound somewhere between a sigh of frustration and a roar of disbelief. It is a fitting sound, guttural, bestial.

  ‘I’ve done this for us,’ he insists. ‘For you.’

  He’s squeezing my shoulders with such strength, such urgency, that I know I will have bruises yet somehow I feel no pain, only pressure, only his force of will. I can picture the little fingerprint smudges of black and purple that will be left behind. I see them with such clarity, such intensity, that I no longer see Leo before me. I see only the future evidence of this moment.

  ‘Are you listening to me?’ he yells, and the force of his breath, his saliva on my face, in my eyes, obliterates that image and I regain focus on him, on the anger that creases his face, on the stress that reddens his eyes, on the distorted refraction of the Leo I once knew.

  Where is the sweet man I fell in love with? Where are his easy smile and entrancing blue eyes? I don’t recognise this person.

  I nod again, and again. I keep nodding because it’s all I can do. I can make no sound, speak no words. I’m a prisoner inside myself, caged by fear and barred by loss.

  His grip on my shoulders softens and his frantic, heavy breathing slows. His face, so pinched and creased in frustration, smooths back to something resembling the Leo I once knew.

  ‘Oh Jem,’ he says, wrenching me into an embrace.

  I cannot return the hug. My arms are limp at my sides, immobile. He’s trying to comfort me but I feel so small, so weak and insignificant. For a moment I just want it to be over. I want him to keep squeezing, to use his strength to crush the life out of me because I no longer want this life, my life.

  ‘I don’t expect you to be okay with what I’ve done,’ he continues. ‘I know it will take time but I also know that you will, eventually, understand that I had no choice. I’ll be patient, I promise. I’ll make things right. Just give me some time, please. Allow me to try. Can you do that? Can you do that for your husband?’

  I nod into his chest.

  ‘Yes,’ I manage to say.

  The effort it takes to respond is enormous.

  The effort it takes to lie is immense.

  There is a silence, and I try not to tense. I can’t see his face so I don’t know if he believes me, if he even heard. Does he detect the lie? Does he know me more than I know him?

  He exhales. ‘That’s all I ask.’

  He believes me.

  He releases me from the embrace. Steps back.

  ‘I’m so sorry I had to put you through all of this,’ he says, using a thumb to wipe away my tears with such delicate intimacy that I don’t want him to stop. I don’t want him to stop because then reality will return and he
will be a murderer again.

  Don’t stop, I mouth in silence. Don’t stop.

  But he does. He’s wiped the tears clean from my eyes, my cheeks, leaving the skin tight and irritated. He smiles then because he sees I’m smiling too. Only it’s the smile he wants to see instead of any smile I could possibly feel. When did you last make me smile, Leo? I wish I knew, I wish I could remember, because whatever this night brings, whatever happens next, Leo will never make me feel like that again. He’ll never make me smile again.

  ‘It’s going to be okay,’ he tells me. ‘It’s going to be okay.’

  He’s stroking my cheek and I rest it in his palm.

  ‘I’m going to make it up to you, I swear it,’ he tells me. ‘It’s hard, I know. And it’s not going to get any easier any time soon. But it will, when we’re far away from here. And that’s what we need, Jem. We need to be far away where no one knows us and no one knows how we got there or why we left. We’d never get far if anyone else knew what happened here, what happened today. It has to be just us. It has—’

  He stops because he cries out in pain.

  He cries out because I’ve sunk my teeth into his hand.

  ‘Bastard,’ I scream when he tears his hand away.

  I leap to my feet as he stumbles away, shocked and pained.

  Blood is smeared around my mouth. It stains my lips and my teeth.

  I attack him, this murderer I married. This monster. He’s slow to react, still hurt and shocked from the bite. I land a couple of punches, cutting his lip, knocking him backwards, but he’s resilient, strong. The effect is only temporary and he’s ready for me when I go for the gun. I can’t prise it from his grip.

  ‘What are you doing?’ he yells at me.

  I don’t answer. I don’t know. I just want this over. I just want this to stop.

  He grabs a fistful of my hair and wrenches my head back. All my balance goes, all my stability. I have to release the gun to stay on my feet. He shoves me away and I trip, fall.

  I scramble to my feet, rage and adrenalin overriding pain.

  I’m about to charge him again when the hammer of the gun clicks back and I’m staring down the muzzle.

  Leo says, ‘Stop.’

  I recognise the seriousness of his tone, the message delivered in that one short word. If I go for him, he’ll shoot. He’s not bluffing.