He's At Your Door: a gripping psychological thriller

by Alex Sinclair

  Steven smiles down at me with both palms on his head. "Something the matter?" he asks, knowing exactly what my problem is.

  "Don't move or talk." I place my spare hand back on the revolver to give myself a moment to think. He is armed and is seconds away from running or shooting. I need to get him under control before it's too late.

  "Is this really the best idea?" he asks with a shrug.

  "Shut your mouth!" Spit hangs off the end of my lips. He knows how to push my buttons. I have to pull my emotions into line, so I draw my eyes from his for a few seconds to think. "Okay, I want you to take out your gun and slowly place it on the trunk of the car. Understand?"

  His gaze narrows in for a moment. Giving up his weapon is the last thing this guy enjoys doing. I'm on the right path.

  Steven does as he's told and places his pistol on the lid of the trunk. He even slides it toward me for added measure.

  "Good," I say. "Now, very slowly, move around to my door and open it. Don't try anything funny."

  He rolls his eyes and shakes his head with a mutter, but he complies by shuffling to my side of the car. When Steven reaches the end of the vehicle, I realize he has to pass by the rear pillar. For a moment, I won't be able to see him. Has he noticed the same thing?

  "Slower," I say.

  But it doesn't help. His eyes flick to the blind spot and see the only opportunity he'll have to escape. He drops behind the blind spot out of sight and rushes around the SUV. I have no idea where he is.

  "No, no, no," I mutter as I try to turn in multiple directions at once in the limited space of the back seat to locate him. One second, I feel the vehicle shake from the front, but by the time I've turned a rattle happens on the other side. He's messing with me, spinning me in circles to make me as confused as possible so he can reclaim his weapon from the hood of the trunk.

  Like an idiot, I try the door handle again as if the child lock has somehow stopped working. It doesn't budge, not even when I slam my fist on it several times. I need the damn car to open, and it occurs to me now that there's only one way out. My idea is insane, but it reminds me I'm holding a spare set of keys to the outside world in my palms: the revolver.

  Closing both eyes and blocking an ear, I fire the gun at the glass of my door. Expecting it to blast all over my face, I'm surprised to see the window crumble mostly outward. The pane must be made of safety glass as none of the pieces are sharp when I stretch my arm out the opening to the exterior handle. Within a second, the door opens, and I stumble out, half losing my footing as I sweep my head around the street looking for Steven. I reach into my pocket. In one palm, I hold the cell phone that was recording me. In the other, the revolver. I'm ready to do what I have to do to survive, but I don't see him anywhere.

  "Where are you?" I call out. He doesn't respond, so I move my way down to the trunk. If I can get my hands on his pistol, I'll be safe. Relief washes over me when I spot it still in place. His game of cat and mouse went on for too long. I no doubt spooked him when I blasted out the glass, forcing him to retreat a little.

  I charge at the second weapon only to see a hand slide up and over the other side of the car to retrieve it. Steven's head pops up a fraction later to extend his reach.

  "Stop," I yell, pointing my pistol at his skull. He freezes on the spot with his fingers less than a foot away from his gun.

  "I'm not playing. If you touch that thing, I'll shoot." I keep my aim as steady as possible while Steven's eyes remain fixed on the weapon. He craves it more than anything else in the world, all because he wishes to see me dead.

  We hold this standoff pose for at least ten seconds before a silence takes over. I can hear only the ambiance of the night over the sound of our ragged breathing. I do what I can to keep my focus as images from the past try to flash through my brain. I have to shrug them away if I have half a chance of keeping Steven under control.

  I think about the gunshot and wonder if someone has called the police. What will happen if they find us like this? How do I explain everything before an officer shoots me, assuming I'm the bad guy?

  "Got ourselves a situation here," Steven says.

  "Yes, we do," I reply.

  He edges his arm back and places it on the car to rest. I study his face for a few seconds. Neither of us knows what to do, and we're doing a lousy job of hiding it.

  "Your move," he says.

  Chapter 54

  Toni - Then

  Dad made the call in front of me the next day as promised. To my amazement, Dustin agreed to meet with him later, saying he was in the area. Naturally, I begged to come along.

  "Please, Dad. I have to. This is too important for me not to be there," I said as we sat around the dining room table.

  "But he's only expecting to see me. He knows who I am and my history. He doesn't know what I want, either. If he sees you there too, he might suspect we're up to something."

  We still weren't clear on what it was we would do when we identified Tommy's killer. All we were concerned about was the hunt. I answered him back with the best idea I had. "If he asks why I'm there, it's to support you. Just be as sad as you can when you talk, and he'll get it." It wasn't far from the truth. We were both miserable people, even on a good day.

  Dad pursed his lips to think about it for a moment. "Fine. Come along, but don't say a single word other than 'hello' or 'goodbye' to the man. We can't let on that you're living with Marie or that we're here to find out which of the two killed Tommy. One wrong move and he might call it in and have us arrested or have them moved."

  "Arrested for what? Finding out who escaped justice for shooting a child, of all things. Why does that person deserve protection?"

  Dad didn't answer me. There was no need to speak about something we both wished wasn't the truth. He twirled his cell on the table, possibly to distract himself.

  I tried to think of a way to calm myself down and not have another outburst again in front of him, but a question brimmed at the edge of my mind. "So, how do we get Dustin Taylor to tell us what we want? After all, we only need to know who."

  "My plan is simple. How well it works depends on Taylor."

  "Okay?"

  "Once I get a feel for what he's like and what he thinks of the whole thing, I'll urge him to spill who did it between the two girls. I'll advise him that our conversation never happened, and that we didn't get the information from him. If he wants cash, I've got ten thousand dollars good to go."

  I felt my mouth fall half open. "That's the grand plan? Just beg for the truth and throw money in his face? Come on, Dad. That won't work. He's a US Marshal. He'll arrest you, possibly me as well."

  Dad stood from the dining chair, making the seat squeak. "What else am I supposed to do, huh? Point a gun at him and force the truth out?"

  "Obviously not. That's why we need to think this through. He's agreed to speak with you. That's got to mean something, right? Maybe we be indirect with our questioning."

  "What? Be subtle? How can that work? We want to find Tommy's killer and bring her to justice. No amount of bullshit will make this guy believe we're after anything else."

  I had nothing to say and gave him a shrug. He hated my response and stormed off on me. I didn't stop him. We both needed time alone to calm down.

  * * *

  The next day, I came out to the kitchen to find Dad all set to go. We only had to drive a short distance to Denver where Dustin was staying in a hotel. He agreed to meet Dad at the bar around lunchtime. I didn't know if that was a good thing or not. All I could hope for was that Mr. Taylor would have loose lips when we arrived.

  "You ready?" Dad asked me.

  "Yep. Have been for hours," I replied. I wasn't sure if he'd still invite me after our heated discussion the day before.

  "Then let's get this over with."

  We both headed out, taking Dad's car the short twenty-minute trip to Denver. I almost wished it was further for us to go for the meeting. It would give me more time to think. I could never se
e things for what they were when I was stuck at home. The open road was the best place for my mind to process the many thoughts in my head, and I never got to drive anywhere these days.

  Before I knew it, we were there, parked out front of a small Denver hotel, early, to visit a Deputy US Marshal to find out who killed our Tommy.

  We walked into the daunting foyer of the resort together and headed for the bar. Dad moved ahead of me, so his face would be the first thing Dustin saw.

  We located him in a booth all alone, knowing what he looked like from a photo found online. He spotted the two of us and didn't look surprised. Instead, he waved us over as if we all knew each other from way back when.

  "Hello, Steven," Dustin said once we were close enough. "And this must be Toni. How are you doing, dear?"

  I went to answer, but he cut me off.

  "Dumb question. Forget I asked it. Take a seat, the both of you."

  We gave each other a quick glance when it became apparent Dustin had been drinking. The half-empty beer he had his hand around couldn't be the first one he'd tossed back that day.

  I waited for Dad to sit on the opposite side of the booth and sat in beside him. I felt so insignificant being there, like a little kid who'd tagged along with her father. What was I thinking?

  "So, what brings the two remaining Prices to me?" Dustin asked, not wasting anyone’s time.

  "Well, sir, you obviously know our history. You can appreciate what we've been through."

  "I do."

  "I guess, what moves us to meet with you today is not an easy thing to go over. And frankly, it's a problem that's been on our minds since Tommy got shot."

  Dustin huffed. "Is that so?" he asked before he drank the other half of his beer. He raised his hand to order another drink. "Out with it. What do you need to know?"

  Dad looked to me. We peered at each other for a moment, silently communicating to go ahead as one, but Dad stood, trying to spare me from any wrongdoing.

  "I want you to tell me who shot Tommy. I believe it's either Rose Melton or Marie Williams."

  Dustin didn't move an inch. He glared at Dad until his beer came. It got placed on the table in the middle of stone-cold silence. "Are you serious?" Dustin asked.

  Dad took in a deep breath and let it all out before answering. "Yes, I am. I know one of them shot my little boy and caused my wife's downward spiral. It's been so long without a whiff of justice for these people you protect. All I want to learn is who broke my family apart. No one ever needs to find out who told me. You get me?"

  Dustin grabbed his open beer and took a decent swig. He exhaled a satisfied lungful of the beverage and spun toward me. "And what about you, young Antoinette?" he asks using the long version of my first name. "Do you demand vengeance for your baby brother and mother?"

  I didn't know what to say. I twisted to Dad, but Dustin grabbed the hand of mine that was resting on the table. "Don't look to him for answers. Tell me what you want to happen."

  What do I want to happen? My wants became irrelevant so long ago I'd almost forgotten them. Now it was only the things we needed that drove me forward, that gave me a reason to get up in the morning and keep going. But I didn't know that then.

  I tried to speak, but the lump in my throat returned, not letting a single word out.

  Chapter 55

  Marie - Now

  How did it come to this? I never pictured being in such a situation again after spending five years trying to escape such a dark world. But here I am, aiming a handgun at another human being.

  I'll never forget that moment when I shot Tommy Price. I see it on repeat in my head whenever I'm around a gun of any sort. Holding one in my hand is like trying to hold a lit torch the wrong way up. My every instinct wants me to throw the thing into a river.

  I stare at Steven as he stares at his pistol on the trunk of his car. I have him dead to rights and could blast him away in an instant. But I know, deep down, that I won't be able to pull this trigger. I can't after last time.

  Steven sighs, shifting his eyes from the gun to mine. His shoulders relax a little. "I'm going to reach into my pocket and take out a pack of smokes and a lighter. Is that okay?"

  "Fine. Just do it as slowly as you can."

  "I will," he says. "But I can see you have your finger wrapped around the trigger. Please remove it. I'm not looking to get shot anytime soon."

  Glancing down at the revolver in my hand, I realize what he is saying. I quickly withdraw my finger from the trigger and place it along the guard for safety.

  Steven flicks his lighter as he shoves a stick into his mouth. On the third try, he is successful. The cigarette sparks bright through the flame, piercing the dark night. As he exhales a cloud of smoke, I look at Toni in the SUV. She's been watching us the whole time, waiting to see who will come out on top of this hell.

  "Get out of the car," I call to Toni. "And bring the zip ties from your bag."

  "What you got planned there?" Steven asks, jutting the cigarette in my direction.

  "Never you mind," I say, trying to ignore him.

  "The thing is, I do mind, Marie. And I'll give you until I finish my smoke here to tell me before I make things interesting for us all."

  I tighten the aim I have on him. I don't know what he is thinking dishing out orders to me. Surely he won't reach for the gun on the trunk? Has he worked out my bluff? My squaring up doesn't seem to bother him as much as it should.

  Toni breaks the tension a little when she reaches Steven's side with the zip ties. She only has the one on around her wrists. There's nothing stopping her from running except me and this revolver. I stare at her wondering if she knows I won't shoot if push comes to shove. Sweat drips from my brow.

  I refocus on Steven and see his cigarette is almost finished. Without taking my eyes off him, I give his daughter an order that may cause this situation to explode. "Toni. Please put a zip tie on your father's wrists and pull the strap tight."

  A grave look washes over Toni’s face. She holds the restraint out in her hands but doesn't move.

  "You can do this. He's not going to do anything stupid. He'll do what I tell him, won't you, Steven?"

  I get no response. Instead, he lifts his cigarette in the air to draw in the last breath of smoke the stick has left in it. Just as his fingers reach his mouth, he stops with a grin.

  "What are you planning to do once we're all tied up, huh? You can't handle the both of us and carry that thing."

  He has a point, but it's one I’ve already thought of. I hold out the cell phone Toni tried to use before to get a confession out of me.

  Steven's eyes go wide.

  Did he not notice the device in my hand? "I've got a call to make."

  "What? To the cops? How do you explain all this to them? You'd lose control of the situation fast. They'd shoot first and ask questions later."

  "Never said I was calling the police. You shouldn't assume so much." I dial a number I have committed to memory. One I always had at the forefront of my mind anytime I feared for my life in this whole witness protection thing. Dustin's cell was available twenty-four-seven. He told me he'd answer it no matter what. It's time to test his words.

  "Who are you calling?" Steven demands.

  I am a single digit away from dialing out and connecting with Dustin. I stop with my finger hovering over the final number as I look up.

  "Well?" Steven presses.

  "If you must know, I'm about to call the Deputy US Marshal assigned to my case."

  His eyes flick around. "Him? Ha, that's a waste of time."

  "Why?" I ask, keeping my gaze locked onto his. Something about this has got him rattled. I get the overwhelming feeling I need to find out.

  Steven draws the final portion of smoke from his cigarette and blows it out into the night. He drops the butt and stomps it flat.

  I don't look away. He's trying to make me falter and stumble, but I can see it in his eyes. Dustin is the last person he'd ever want me to talk to. He
knows the US Marshal will save me from him and his daughter.

  "We'll see," I say as I go to press the button.

  "You don't understand," Toni interrupts.

  I shift my aim to her without thinking. "Understand what? You're both trying to mess with me. That's all you've done since you showed up on my doorstep. I'm calling Dustin and that's that."

  Steven makes his move and snatches the gun from the trunk. The world around me slows down as I turn the revolver toward him. But he is too fast. Our aims meet in the middle as one. We both have our weapons locked in on each other's head, fingers on triggers, ready to end the discussion.

  Chapter 56

  I can't hear a thing. Not the slight breeze rolling in from the desert. Not the city in the distance. Not even the sound of my staggered breathing. I focus my senses on Steven pointing his pistol on me, ready to fire, as I do the same to him.

  Neither of us says a word, letting our weapons do the talking. We both have clear shots of one another and are waiting for someone to squeeze off a single round to resolve the night.

  "Wait," Toni says, butting in on our discussion of sorts. "No one shoot. It doesn't have to end this way."

  "It's obvious this is what she wants!" Steven yells. "Just get out of here."

  "I'm not going anywhere," Toni says.

  There's no fear in her voice. Her words don't wobble and crack the way mine would if I could utter a single sound right now.

  "Dammit, Toni. Listen to me. This is between the two of us. Take my keys and go before anything happens."

  "No. I'm not losing you as well. Hasn't she taken enough from our family?"

  I want to respond, but I can't shift my eyes from Steven to Toni. If I even blink for more than a split second, he will kill me.

  "It won't come to that, will it Marie?" Steven asks.