The Stranger

by Mark Ayre

  After the second, she had cried but had not been sick. The third kill was easier again, and the fourth easier than that. On it went. Until she felt nothing at all. Until killing didn't seem to matter. Until Abbie had to remind herself it was not okay to murder the guy who pinched her bum in the bar or the woman who short-changed her in the shop.

  After a while, killing became easy, but it was never fun. Abbie told Eddie so.

  "Can't you stop?" he said.

  "Possibly. Not easily. I never kill unless I can balance the scales. For every life I take, I must be saving at least one. Preferably more. I never want to run at a life deficit. How many lives will killing Leona save?"

  "Plenty. She's scum."

  Possibly, she was scum. Abbie doubted murdering her would save too many lives, and the big problem was that it would end two. Abbie didn't need to work too hard to stop Eddie. He would never put the knife in Leona.

  "I've been honest with you. I think you'll agree," said Abbie to Eddie. "Now, I want to talk to you about Leona and Danny, and I expect you to be honest with me, too. Sound possible?"

  "Of course."

  Eddie had finished his whiskey. He placed it on the coffee table. Abbie waited until he met her eye again.

  "Leona and Danny were sleeping together?" she said.

  "Yes."

  "You're sure?"

  "Yes."

  "She used to bring him here? She gave him a key which he passed on to you when you found out about the affair?"

  "Yes."

  "She gave him the safe code and told him a day he would be able to rob Francis without Francis knowing?"

  "Yes."

  "And you believe he and her were supposed to split the money, but instead, she stole it and let Francis find out Danny was the thief?"

  "I don't believe. That's what happened."

  "How can you know?"

  "She was the only one except for me and Danny who knew where the cash was."

  "But Danny went drinking. He could have told anyone where to find the money."

  "Yes, but I don't believe he would. Even Danny, and even drunk off his face, I don't believe he’d do that. Leona stole the money."

  "You've not told your wife this?"

  "No."

  Abbie was about to pry into why, but wasn't it obvious? Eddie planned to kill Leona. He didn't want to put Jess in a position where she might have to lie to the police. Most of all, Eddie didn't want to lose his wife and baby. Though he would if he killed Leona. Luckily, that wouldn't happen.

  "Another drink?" said Abbie.

  "Please."

  Rising, she took the glass and crossed to the drinks cabinet. She poured another measure of whiskey and returned to the table. After sliding the drink to Eddie, she fetched something from her pocket.

  "Eddie—"

  "Don't call me that."

  "Excuse me?"

  "Eddie. Don't call me Eddie," he said.

  "Okay."

  "When we were kids, he was Danny, and I was Ed. I hated it. He would go off and climb trees and go cycling with his friends. He would get into fights and shoplift. Most of the stuff he did was stupid, nothing to be proud of. But he always had a smile on his face. I hated it. I was so jealous. I wanted to be fun. But I wasn't."

  Eddie sampled the whiskey. Didn't wince as much as he had after sipping from the first tumbler. Abbie let him speak.

  "I asked people to call me Eddie," said Ed. "I was so stupid. Got it in my head that he was fun because he was Danny, not Dan, and I was boring because I was Ed, not Eddie. I always wanted to be more like him, but a leopard can't change its spots, and no one would call me Eddie. Well, no one except Danny."

  Abbie remembered the argument between the siblings. Remembered Danny saying "Eddie". More than that, she remembered Danny's tone.

  "He used it as a slur?"

  "Yeah," said Eddie. "Whenever he wanted to get under my skin. Calling me Eddie always pushed the right buttons."

  More whiskey. This one was half gone already.

  "I'm sorry about your brother," said Abbie.

  "We used to fight non-stop," said Eddie. There were tears in his eyes. "But I loved him, and he loved me. Jess hated the way I always ran to him when he needed help. Said I had a hero complex. That's why I let him lean on me, but that wasn't it. It wasn't that I felt responsible for him; I loved him. I wanted him to be okay. But I didn't do enough. I should have known something like this would happen in the end."

  Finishing his whiskey, he replaced the glass and picked the knife up from his side. Staring at the blade, a look of longing entered his eyes.

  "I'm sorry," said Abbie. "But you can't kill Leona."

  "You won't stop me," he said.

  "I won't have to."

  "You think I'm weak?" he said. This with some offence, but that dropped from his voice to make way for resignation almost immediately. "Doesn't matter; everyone does."

  "Killing is easy. It takes strength to let those we hate live. You're strong, and you won't kill Leona."

  "We'll see."

  In Abbie's hand was the card she had taken from Leona's bag. Now she placed it on the table, folded, and slid it to Eddie.

  "What's this?" he asked.

  "The reason you won't kill Leona."

  Eddie stared at the folded card, then back at Abbie. "Is this a trick?"

  Abbie shook her head. "No trick."

  Eddie was reticent. Curiosity got the better of him. Still clutching the knife in one hand, he leaned forward and collected the slip of paper with the other. Between trembling fingers, he held the card and stared at the white back. For several seconds, he kept like that, then he turned the card, unfolded it, stared at it as Abbie had stared at it upon pulling it from Leona's bag.

  "What is this?" he said, his voice hoarse, lost.

  Abbie had half a mind not to answer such a stupid question, but Eddie was in shock. She decided to cut him some slack.

  "You know what it is," she said. "You must have seen one just like it a few months back."

  "No," he said, but he wasn't saying he hadn't seen one. He was rejecting what his eyes were telling him.

  "Yes, Ed. It's an ultrasound. Leona's pregnant."

  The ultrasound slipped from Eddie's fingers, fluttered to the floor.

  Abbie said, "You're going to be an uncle."

  Twenty-Three

  Rising, Eddie took the knife, crossed to the dining room table, stood there for several seconds, then returned. At the sofa, he made as though to sit down, then stopped himself. He stared at Abbie. He shook his head. He started to move to the table again, then stopped again. Like Travis had earlier, Eddie pointed a shaking finger in Abbie’s face.

  “No.”

  Abbie sighed. “No, what?”

  “It’s not true.”

  “What’s not true? Do you think the ultrasound is fake?”

  “It’s not Danny’s. That baby isn’t Danny’s.”

  Standing, Abbie leaned over the table. From the floor, she collected the ultrasound before returning to her seat. Eddie still stood.

  “Then whose?” she said.

  “Francis’.”

  Abbie shrugged. “Possible. But unlikely. Francis paid someone to steal Leona’s bag. He suspected what was going to be inside. That suggests she was keeping things from him.”

  “Probably waiting to tell him.”

  Abbie shook her head. “This isn’t a pregnancy test. This is a twelve-week scan. Leona’s been hiding this a while. Freaking out. Trying to decide what to do. Hoping Francis doesn’t learn the truth, but he suspects.”

  “It’s not Danny’s.”

  “You’re in shock,” said Abbie. “I get it, but you have to try think clearly. If Leona was sleeping with your brother, it stands to reason she would be having less sex, if any, with her husband. If she was sleeping with them both, who would be more likely to use protection; Francis or Danny?”

  “Danny didn’t use protection,” said Eddie.

  “
Okay. Weird that you know that—“

  Eddie waved a hand. “Danny wouldn’t wear protection. He was enamoured by this woman. When they were together, it was intoxicating. He couldn’t breathe for desire. It wouldn’t even have crossed his mind. Stupid prick.”

  Rising from her chair, Abbie outstretched her hand, the ultrasound between her fingers. She wanted Eddie to take it. As though she were offering him a writhing squid monster, he looked at the ultrasound with disgust.

  “I don’t want it.”

  “Your brother is dead,” said Abbie.

  “You think I hadn’t noticed?”

  “I want you to notice more than his absence. I want you to notice this baby.”

  “Not a baby.”

  “Yes, a baby. Like the one your wife’s carrying or the one you lost.”

  “Don’t you talk about that.”

  “Then don’t make me. Don’t be a child. You have a baby on the way, and the kid Jess is carrying is no longer your only responsibility.”

  Horror spread across Eddie’s face as he realised what Abbie was saying. He reached out a hand but only to knock the ultrasound free. Once more, it fluttered to the floor.

  “Very mature,” said Abbie.

  “Not my baby,” he said. “Leona’s.”

  “You want Leona to raise your family?” said Abbie. “What do you think Francis is going to do when he finds out? He might kill her.”

  “I want her dead. If Francis doesn’t kill her, I will.”

  “And what about the baby?”

  He looked at her with cold eyes. “I’m pro-choice.”

  Faster than lighting, Abbie moved to Eddie. In a vice grip, she grabbed the wrist of his knife-clasping hand. Her other hand came to Eddie’s stomach.

  He folded at the waist, spluttering. Abbie’s punching hand she now used to grab Eddie’s throat and lift him upright. Her other hand still on his wrist, she twisted him around and pointed him to the door.

  “Any second, Leona might step through there. Tell me, could you take this knife—“ Abbie shook the arm that held it “—and plunge it into Leona’s stomach, knowing you were impaling not only her but also her baby? Could you kill them both and call Leona’s murder execution and the baby’s abortion? Could you? Go on, tell me.”

  Through deep sobs, Eddie could produce no answer. Even if he defeated the tears, shame might have throttled him.

  Pricks of shame crept into Abbie, too. How tight her hand gripped his wrist. She could see Eddie’s hand whiten. Could see it shake over the knife. Still, she could not let go.

  “I’m waiting for an answer. Could you murder that baby? Could you do it?”

  He was shaking his head.

  “Tell me,” she said. Holding Eddie tighter.

  “No. No, I couldn’t. I can’t. It’s not the same. I know it’s not the same. Please, let me go. I know it’s not the same.”

  With her free hand, Abbie grabbed the knife from Eddie. When she unclasped her other hand, releasing his wrist, Eddie collapsed to his knees, pressed his head into the carpet, and sobbed deep, desperate tears.

  These days, Abbie could kill a man and go out for a nice meal. Sometimes, she would feel a deep, distant throbbing that indicated she felt unease with what she had become. She never cried, never felt sick. She might have been a robot.

  After hurting Eddie and forcing him to contemplate the actions he had threatened, after driving him to the ground, to tears, to despair and desperation, Abbie felt her stomach churn, the bile rise in her throat. As she swallowed, she was struggling to keep the tears at bay. Like a plastic sheet pulled taut over the face, Abbie’s self-loathing made her fight for breath, as though it were trying to kill her.

  In the presence of what she’d done, she might collapse beside Eddie and disappear into that despair. Still holding the knife, she rushed from the living room, slamming the door behind her.

  Across the hall was the office, and it was in here that Abbie went. The knife she placed on the dusty bookshelf. In the small space between the bookshelf and the desk, she went onto her haunches, tucked her chin into her chest and put her arms over her. With her hands, Abbie pulled down her head as though she might be able to collapse in on herself.

  While Abbie could repress the urge to be sick, she could not fight the tears, and they overcame her. From her haunches, she slipped to her behind, her shoulder pressed against the bookshelf. Her hands she brought to her face, lest the computer look upon her and be repulsed by what she was.

  A monster.

  She might save Eddie’s life. Would it be worth it if she destroyed his soul? And what was the point of saving all these lives if she was not permitted a soul or a life of her own?

  Desperate, angry, bitter, Abbie stayed where she was for several minutes. Wrapped in self-pity, she lost what she was trying to achieve. If Ben could have seen her, he would have been disgusted, as he was disgusted in the early days when she confessed to him her fear of what she would become, should she pursue the path onto which he was attempting to push her.

  Eventually, after God knew how long, she began to calm. The churning in her stomach and the bile in her throat disappeared. Her eyes were wet and sore, but she got her tears under control. Taking deep breaths, she forced herself to stand, to be calm.

  It was unacceptable to let the pain of her life overcome her. What Abbie did was meaningful. So she rarely smiled and had no kind of life. So she could never fall in love. How many people were alive, and in love, and smiling because of actions Abbie had taken? She had lost her soul, but how many souls had her sacrifices kept intact?

  Eddie was still in danger. She could save him, Michael and Bobby. She needed only to keep focused—eyes on the prize.

  Stepping towards the desk, those scraps of paper tucked beneath the screen caught Abbie’s eye, as they had previously. This time, she noticed something she had not before.

  And wasn’t that interesting?

  From beneath the screen, Abbie pulled one of the paper scraps and folded it into her pocket. One realisation led to another. Recalling something else, Abbie drew her phone from her drawstring bag and wrote a text to Bobby that he would find strange but would probably answer. The cogs were turning. Answers were coming into focus. Were they the correct answers? Would they help achieve her goals? Abbie didn’t know but thought so on both counts.

  Leaving the room, she stepped across the corridor and found Eddie on his knees before the coffee table like a man at prayer. Instead of a bible, he held the bottle of whiskey. With shaking hands, he was attempting to fill his glass. He would likely succeed, but he would spill enough to stain the wooden table first. Abbie thought it essential always to be a good house guest. Stepping across the room, she whipped the bottle from Eddie’s hands and watched him sprawl to the floor trying to reclaim it.

  “Time to decide,” she said. “What are you going to do about Leona?”

  Coming to his knees, he said, “Why must you know?”

  “If I have any purpose, then that purpose is to protect the innocent,” said Abbie. “We have all done rotten things in our time. No man nor woman walks through life without making the odd mistake and transgression. I believe most of us stay on the right side of innocence throughout our lives, but on a scale, no human is more innocent than an unborn child. Leona may choose to terminate her pregnancy. Fine. If she doesn’t, I consider that baby as good as born. If you want to kill Leona, you want to kill the baby. If you are determined to destroy the life of this unborn innocent, I will have to stop you, so tell me now: what are you going to do about Leona?”

  Eddie bowed his head. Going to her knees, Abbie cupped his chin and forced him to look at her. No way was he lying. She would not allow it.

  “Tell me,” she said.

  “I was lost in anger,” he said. “I hate Leona for what she’s done. More than anything, I want to see her die. No, I thought more than anything.”

  “But upon reexamination,” Abbie said, “you’ve changed your mind?” />
  “What could mean more to a man than his unborn child?” said Eddie. “If I kill Leona, I will not only be killing her baby but depriving mine of a father. I’ve seen what that does to a kid. I’ll be a dad. I’ll protect my family.”

  “What about Leona’s kid? If she decides to have the baby, what then?”

  “I have to prioritise Jess and our child. If you’re asking if I’ll try to take in Leona’s kid, I can’t. Danny’s gone. Leona is responsible. This child is hers, so far as I’m concerned.”

  Abbie rose. Having hoped Eddie would decide to fight to take the baby in, as it was his flesh and blood, it was impossible not to feel disappointed by his comments. On the other hand, he would no longer try to kill Leona, which was a victory.

  “Leona isn’t coming,” said Abbie.

  “I realised that. She’s made me look a fool.”

  Eddie had made himself look a fool, but Abbie said nothing. She collected and pocketed the ultrasound, adding it to her collection with the sheet of paper from the master bedroom and the scrap from the office.

  “We need to leave,” she said. “Go home. Sleep. First thing in the morning, call Francis and arrange a meeting as soon as possible. Once that’s done, call me. I’ll be attending. But you must make sure this meeting is with Francis. It has to be him.”

  As Abbie helped Eddie from the carpet, he stared at her.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Well, that’s okay.”

  “No,” he said, pulling from Abbie. “Francis doesn’t want to see me if I don’t have his money.”

  “I know where the money is,” said Abbie and with a hand halted Eddie’s next question. “Tell Francis, by the time you meet, he’ll already have it. It’s time to trust I know what I’m doing. Time to trust that by the time tomorrow’s out, you and Jess, and more people besides, will no longer be living in fear.”

  “But what about Francis? Are you sure you know where it is because if Francis doesn’t get his money—”

  Abbie put an arm on Eddie’s shoulder and met his eye. She wanted him to see her conviction.