Knock Knock

by Debra Purdy Kong

  Casey had asked Rhonda’s permission to sell the clunker, but she refused. It was another part of her old life that Rhonda didn’t want changed until she was out of prison.

  “I still don’t like it,” Denver muttered.

  “I get that, but what the hell kind of person would I be if I turned my back on Monica now?” Out the corner of her eye, Casey spotted Summer’s nod. “Since Sonya knows that the house will be empty, it would be a perfect opportunity for Tyrone to take what he wants. A junkie under his control wouldn’t hesitate to let Tyrone in and steal from her own mother.”

  “All the more reason you need to be bloody careful. Listen, I’m on a new rotation, working days in that zone. What time are you meeting Monica?”

  “In about forty minutes.” Thank god Denver would be nearby.

  “I’ll see if we can put people there to watch the house.”

  “And the park,” Casey said. “If Tyrone hits the house, he’ll likely come in from the park. For all we know, Sonya could be with him.”

  “Be careful,” he said.

  “I intend to. But if there’s trouble, I’m calling you, not Novak.”

  “Understood. Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

  THIRTY

  Casey parked Rhonda’s station wagon in front of Monica’s house. She stared at the windows, but there were no signs of life. Was this good or bad? Thirty minutes ago, the decision to come here felt right. Now Casey wasn’t so sure.

  She stepped out of her car and headed for Monica’s Buick. As hoped, two car seats were in the back. She’d have to move them into the station wagon, which wouldn’t be easy. Maybe Monica would let her drive the Buick.

  Casey looked up and down the street. A man walked his dog. A woman pushed a stroller. From the playground, the happy shouts of children made the neighborhood appear normal. There was no sign of a patrol car. Denis emerged from his house, his head lowered.

  Casey trudged up the steps and rang the bell. She heard Seanna and Shawna squabbling and then Monica’s cough. The door opened slowly. Lord, her greasy hair was flattened against her scalp. The absence of makeup aged her by a decade. Her brow glistened above her scarlet cheeks and nose.

  “Thanks for coming,” Monica mumbled, wiping her nose. “Time for our car ride, girls. Remember, you can bring one toy each.”

  The girls squealed with delight and scrambled upstairs.

  “I don’t have car seats, so may I drive your car?”

  “Sure.”

  Casey noticed the small green light on the house alarm just inside the door. “You’ll probably want to set your alarm.”

  “Right. I hardly ever activate it during the day. The girls keep opening and closing doors in this weather.” After Monica did so, the light turned to red. “You’d better shut the door or the stupid thing will go off. I’ll get my keys and purse.” Clutching the railing, she started up the stairs.

  Casey stepped further inside the unusually warm house. The air conditioning had to be off. Another money-saving strategy, or was it broken? Monica took the steps slowly. At the top, she poked her head into the first room and told the girls to hurry up. From another room, her phone rang.

  Monica disappeared inside the last room on the right, returning a moment later with the phone to her ear, annoyance and worry on her face. “I don’t understand,” she said. “I paid that bill . . . All right. I’ll check.” She turned to Casey. “I have to deal with this. Would you mind getting the girls in the car? If they won’t cooperate, bribe them with cookies. Jar’s next to the fridge. Make sure they go to the bathroom before we leave.”

  Just as Casey feared, a delay. Monica returned to her bedroom and shut the door part-way.

  Casey headed upstairs. “Come on, girls. Time to go.” When neither girl moved, she added, “Your grandma said you could have a cookie, but only if you promise to get in the car.”

  “Cookies!” The pair scrambled down the staircase.

  “Slow down or you’ll hurt yourselves.”

  Casey hurried after them into the kitchen, where the girls hopped up and down in front of the counter.

  “I want juice,” Seanna said, attempting to open the fridge.

  Casey swiftly took over. She fetched two plastic cups and doled out juice and one chocolate chip cookie each. At the window, Casey watched for any sign of Ricky or his maniac son. Were they out there, watching and waiting?

  “Your grandma wants you to go to the bathroom before we leave. Better do that now.”

  “Car ride!” the girls shouted, waving their arms.

  “Bathroom!” Casey replied, swooshing the girls into the hallway.

  Dropping cookie crumbs on the floor, both girls clamored into the bathroom and shut the door. Casey sensed that they stuck together day and night. If Sonya went to rehab or to jail, they’d be relying on each other a whole lot more.

  As Casey waited, her gaze drifted to the alarm system. The green light was on. Her skin prickled. She looked at the closet door next to the bathroom. The door was shut. She called Denver.

  “I’m in Monica’s house,” she murmured. “The house alarm was on five minutes ago but now it’s off. Monica’s been on the phone upstairs while I’ve been in the kitchen with her grandkids.”

  “Get everyone out right now.”

  Easier said than done. Sweat trickled down Casey’s sides. Her lower back was already damp. Images of the ski mask and those hate-filled eyes threatened to overwhelm her.

  The bathroom door opened and Seanna came out alone. “I want more cookies.”

  “How about we take the whole jar with us,” Casey said. “But only if you go to your grandma’s car right now.”

  “Casey?” Denver said.

  “I’m here.”

  “Help will be there in a couple of minutes. Unlock the front door and keep this line open.”

  “Okay. Done.”

  The toilet flushed and Shawna emerged. Casey hurried to the bottom of the steps.

  “Monica, we’ve got to go!”

  “Be right there,” she called back in a croaky voice.

  “Cookie!” Seanna yelled and ran to the kitchen while her sister started to climb upstairs.

  “Monica, come on!” Casey shouted.

  “Wait for her outside,” Denver said. “Lock yourself and the girls in your car.”

  A crash in the kitchen nearly stopped her heart. Seanna started wailing.

  “What was that?” Denver asked.

  Casey ran to the kitchen and found the little girl sitting next to the shattered cookie jar. Damn it! She spotted a block of knives beside the stove. An image of Tyrone’s rage propelled Casey to grab the smallest knife and shove it in her pocket.

  “It’s all right, honey.” Phone still in hand, Casey lifted the crying child and told Denver what had happened. “Listen, I’m going to put the phone in my pocket.”

  “Keep the line open,” he ordered.

  Casey started back down the hall, her shoulder throbbing from the extra weight. She put the squirming child down but clung to her hand. Casey glanced at the dining room. No one was there. The living room was also empty. Shawna was at the top of the staircase, apparently unconcerned about her sister’s misery. And where the hell was Monica?

  “Come on, Shawna,” Casey said. “Time to get in the car.”

  The girl ignored her. Seanna struggled to break free of Casey’s grasp.

  “I’ve got candy in my car,” Casey said. “But you’ll have to come get it.”

  At the top of the steps, Shawna turned around. Casey held her breath. Monica was still in her bedroom and, judging from her angry tone, arguing with her caller.

  “Lots of candy,” Casey repeated, opening the front door.

  Denis stood in front of the house. As Casey helped Seanna over the threshold, he pointed to the second-floor window.

  Casey heard Shawna shout, “Mommy!”

  Sonya! What was she doing here? Casey nodded to Denis, who turned and started back to his
house at an uncharacteristically quick pace. Did Sonya intimidate him that much? Or was someone with her? Footsteps thumped down the stairs. Dread slithered down Casey’s back.

  She turned around to see Sonya with Shawna in her arms. Sonya’s lips were pinched, her eyes bloodshot. Seanna struggled back over the threshold to get to her mother. No way could Casey get the girls out now. Defeated, she released the struggling girl’s hand.

  Sonya’s unblinking eyes stared at Casey. “Heard you’re taking Mom to the doctor.”

  Casey took the cellphone out of her pocket. “Yes. She said you had to work.”

  “Last minute change.” Sonya fidgeted. She looked edgy, nervous. “Thought I’d help out by keeping the girls with me here. It makes more sense.”

  She could also ensure that Tyrone Ripple had access to Monica’s valuables. “Yes.” Time to get the hell out of here.

  “Sonya?” Monica appeared at the top of the stairs and sneezed. “You changed your mind?”

  Sonya bit her lip. Her shoulders twitched. “I convinced the manager that this was a family emergency. I’ll look after the girls while Casey takes you to the doctor.”

  “Cookies,” Seanna whimpered.

  “Mama, can the man have a cookie?” Shawna asked her mother.

  Casey froze. Sonya’s already pale face turned ghostly.

  “What man?” Monica asked.

  “There’s no man here,” Sonya blurted. “Don’t be silly, Shawna.”

  Casey hoped Denver had heard that.

  Shawna pointed to the tall, husky man stepping out of the girls’ bedroom.

  “Knock knock,” he said. Light, silvery eyes were fixed on Casey. “Remember me?”

  Returning the stare, she began to shake.

  “Who the hell are you?” Monica asked.

  Casey started for the door.

  “Don’t let her leave!” Ripple’s voice boomed through the house.

  Sonya grabbed her arm and pulled hard.

  THIRTY-ONE

  Casey slipped the phone back into her pocket. “Let go of me, Sonya, and who is that man?” Casey yelled, praying that Denver was still on the line.

  Sonya kept a firm grip on Casey’s wrist and said nothing. Casey took a deep breath, forcing herself not to panic. Hell, half the neighborhood must have heard the door slam shut.

  Shawna scrambled down the stairs while Seanna toddled toward the kitchen. Tyrone’s heavy footsteps took the stairs slowly, as if he wasn’t at all concerned about time.

  “Monica’s already late for the doctor,” Casey said to Sonya. “She’s really sick and we need to go.”

  At the bottom of the staircase, Ripple turned to Sonya. “Lock the door and get in the kitchen. Stay there till I tell you to come out.”

  “Why?”

  “This bitch and I have unfinished business.”

  “What business?” she asked, her expression suspicious. “Have you been doin’ her behind my back?”

  “Nothing like that. Just go! And keep those brats quiet or I swear to god I’ll do it for ya.”

  Sonya hurried the girls down the hall. The absence of Ripple’s ski mask made Casey’s throat go dry. Adrenalin raced through her.

  “You’re Sonya’s latest boyfriend, I presume.” Monica remained at the top of the stairs, glaring at Tyrone. “You need to leave.”

  He glanced over his shoulder. “I will soon enough.”

  “Sonya!” Monica yelled, the phone still in her hand. “Get this man out of here!” She broke into another hacking cough.

  Sonya stood at the entrance to the kitchen, her face filled with fear as Tyrone removed a knife from his pocket. Pointing the knife at Casey, he turned slightly so he could see both her and Monica.

  “Give me your phone, old lady!” he ordered Monica. “Then go to your room.”

  Oh god. What if he demanded her phone again? Heat flushed Casey’s face and swooped through her body, leaving her legs shaky.

  “Do it, you fucking old hag!” Tyrone shouted.

  At the sight of the knife, Monica’s eyes widened and the coughing stopped. She tossed him the phone but it landed midway down the staircase.

  Tyrone scooped it up. “Now move!”

  Whimpering, Monica scurried into her room and slammed the door.

  Tyrone turned to Casey. “You know who I am, don’t you? You recognize my voice, just like I recognize yours.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  A nasty smile stretched across his wide, square face. “You’d make a shitty poker player.”

  Where were the cops? “Have we met?” The words scraped in her throat.

  “You think playing games will help?” he taunted. “’Cause I don’t.”

  She had to stall for time. Give Denver a chance to send help. “Was it at the rec center?”

  “I should have bashed your brains out at that old man’s place.”

  Terror overwhelmed her. She couldn’t let him touch her again.

  Casey bolted for the door but Tyrone grabbed her. “I’ll make sure I do it right this time.”

  Rage rose inside her. “Harold’s dead. You killed him!”

  Tyrone chuckled. “Guess that makes him a ghost too.”

  “Police! Open up!”

  Alarm flashed across Tyrone’s face. As he turned his attention to the door, Casey kicked him hard in the knee. He groaned, loosening his grip enough so she could wrench her arm free. Casey dashed into the living room, then the dining room. If she could get outside . . .

  Tyrone came after her. Casey kept the dining table between them. He looked past her to the window. Cops were in the backyard. He ran to the kitchen and picked up Seanna, who screamed. Sonya tried to take Seanna from him, but Tyrone hit her so hard that she was knocked to the floor.

  As he stomped down the hall, Sonya yelled, “No, Tyrone! Let Seanna go!”

  Something smashed against the front door. Casey held her breath. Tyrone stopped in front of the staircase and glowered at Casey, who’d remained in the dining room.

  “Get over here, bitch, or I’ll cut the kid’s throat!”

  “Give me my baby!” Sonya yelled.

  Casey’s breathing was ragged, her ribs and shoulders now throbbing. As she started toward him, Monica crept downstairs, clutching a pistol with both hands.

  “I told you to get out of my house!”

  Tyrone gaped at her, then turned to Sonya. “I thought you said she had no weapons.”

  “I-I didn’t know!” Sonya’s voice cracked as she stared at her mother. “Where did that come from?”

  “It was your father’s.” Monica struggled to raise her voice over her hysterical granddaughters. “One of my better-kept secrets.”

  Another bang rattled the front door. Casey held her breath and stepped back. Wood splintered. The wailing Seanna thrashed about in Tyrone’s arms. One of her feet must have smacked him in the groin because he grunted and hunched over. Sonya leapt forward and pulled her daughter from him. Groaning, Tyrone straightened up, then raised the knife.

  “You bloody bi—”

  Monica fired her weapon, hitting his shoulder. Tyrone recoiled, dropping the knife. The kitchen door flew open and two officers pounded in. The front door crashed open.

  “Drop the gun!” officers said from behind Monica.

  The girls screamed. Sonya shouted and cursed the cops. Another coughing fit sent Monica sinking onto the carpeted step. She placed the gun beside her. An officer, keeping his weapon pointed at the hacking, doubled-over Monica, climbed the stairs and retrieved the pistol.

  “Don’t cuff her,” a man in bicycle shorts said, raising his badge. “She’s the homeowner.”

  Tears trickled down Monica’s flushed, anguished face. Someone called for an ambulance. Two female officers appeared and attempted to separate the screaming kids from their mother.

  “Fuck off!” Sonya screamed. “Don’t touch them!”

  “Calm down, ma’am.”

  “Get me a doctor!” Tyrone demanded, clut
ching his shoulder.

  Through the living room window, Casey saw more patrol cars gathering, as were gawking passersby. She wished she could leave, but the police would want a statement.

  “Where are you taking my kids?” Sonya shouted. “Get your filthy hands off me!”

  Her shouts switched to incoherent babbling punctuated with sobs. Casey thought of Denver and removed the phone from her pocket. The line was dead. Her head was pounding and she didn’t have the energy to call him with an update.

  “I wanna see my babies,” a handcuffed Sonya demanded as officers escorted her toward the door. “This is Tyrone’s fault! He made me help him! I had no choice!”

  Now restrained and surrounded by officers, Tyrone said, “I should have gotten rid of you first.”

  “My mother should have blown your head off!”

  “I tried,” Monica said, “but missed.” Her splotchy face became twisted with anger. “How could you get mixed up with this loser, Sonya? What type of drugs did he give you, and don’t deny it! I’m not that stupid.”

  “What does it matter now?”

  “How could you do this after everything I gave you?” Monica went on.

  “Everything you gave me?” Disbelief swept across Sonya’s face. “You sided with Dad when he kicked me out! You didn’t stick up for me!”

  “I did!” Monica’s eyes glistened. “You know how stubborn he is.”

  “You forced me to live on the street.”

  “You moved in with your boyfriend and his family.”

  “I told you a million times, they kicked me out!”

  “That was years ago,” Monica insisted, wiping her nose. “I tried so hard to make it up to you, but you just kept taking!”

  “It’s not my fault! Tyrone forced me to use you. Please, help me out of this!”

  Monica coughed again and blew her nose. “Nothing’s ever your fault, is it, Sonya?” The tears came again. “You need to fix yourself before I can truly help.”

  As the officers attempted to move Sonya outside, she resisted. “Stop! Get away from me! Mom, help me! Please!”

  Sobbing, Monica turned away as Sonya was taken outside. The paramedics arrived. Casey sat down on the sofa and stayed there, too shocked and exhausted to move. After Tyrone was removed from the house, Monica joined her.