The Woman At The Door

by Daniel Hurst

  I’ve got more than my fair share of difficult ones still ahead of me.

  As well as dealing with Maria and my hangover tomorrow, I am going to have to contact the private investigator again and tell her to do whatever she has to do to get me some answers. I can’t waste any more time on this. I can’t spend another night in this damn hotel. I’m also going to go back to my house after work and have another go at speaking with Rebecca. It might be a disaster, but I have to keep trying because that will hopefully show that I haven’t done anything wrong and that I won’t give up on us no matter what.

  Tomorrow is shaping up to be a busy day, so I should probably have another go at trying to get some sleep. Shuffling back on the bed, I put my head on the pillow again and close my eyes, thinking about recent football results because that is one topic that won’t cause me any stress and should ensure I drift off quicker this time. Sure enough, it works, and I’m fast asleep a few minutes later, my intoxicated mind dreaming of all sorts of weird and wonderful things as it tends to do whenever I have consumed alcohol this late in the evening.

  But one of the dreams quickly turns into a nightmare, and it’s because I see her standing in that doorway. Alexandra. The woman who started the nightmare when I was awake is now starting nightmares when I’m supposed to be resting.

  I hate this bitch.

  Why did she pick me?

  Why must she torment me?

  And most importantly, what do I have to do to defeat her?

  37

  ALEXANDRA

  I’ve been doing this long enough now to know that it is going to take something extra special to stop me. I have a 100% success rate when it comes to breaking up the marriages of the targets my clients pay me to, and I also have a 100% success rate in getting away with it. Nobody has ever been able to prove what I have done to them, nor has anybody ever been able to correctly identify me and investigate me further. But that’s not down to good luck on my part. Rather, it’s down to me being clever, prepared and elusive.

  I always use a fake name. I always work in areas where nobody will recognise me. I wear gloves so that I don’t leave fingerprints, whether that is when breaking into a target’s home or when I post the letters I sometimes like to send. Most of the people I do this to won’t even suspect that something is wrong until it is far too late, by which time I am long gone, leaving nothing but their broken marriage in my wake. But even if anybody fancied their chances of finding me and figuring out who I am, I think several steps ahead to make sure that doesn’t happen. I take risks like going to the door and speaking to the homeowner, but only after everything has been considered, and I’m sure that I will be able to get away easily. I’ve mapped out several escape routes should my first one be blocked. I’ve ensured that there are no home surveillance cameras installed that overlook the driveway and could capture my image approaching the front door. And I park several streets away so I can make my escape in a vehicle that nobody will see the registration of.

  I love what I do, but I’m only able to keep doing it if I get away with it. That’s why I’m only ever as good as my last job. Make a success of it, and I get to move on and cash in somewhere else. Make a mistake, and I’m done.

  So far, no mistakes have been made.

  And I’m not planning on making any in the future either.

  One potential mistake I could make is by thinking ahead to the next job before the current one is complete. That is why I never look too far ahead, preferring to stay present and take each day as it comes, or rather, each target as they come. That means my mind is still very much focused on Sam and Rebecca, the couple who I am currently in the process of dismantling.

  My latest update from my client sounded promising, but I decided to turn the screw a little further by writing and sending a letter addressed to Rebecca in which I clarified what I had said to her the night I went to her door. Knowing that a wife will always hate the mistress, I have found this tactic of sending an apologetic and guilt-ridden note to be highly effective because it can disarm the wife and bring her onto my side, creating an even bigger gulf between her and her ‘cheating’ husband. Rebecca should have received and read that letter by now, which means she should be even more determined to get Sam out of her life, thus freeing the poor man up for another woman who harbours desires for him.

  Another woman like my client.

  I expect we are moving into the end game now, making it just a short matter of time until I get word from my client that Sam’s marriage has moved into the area known as ‘irreconcilable’ and that she is happy because now she has a chance to make her move on the man. Maybe she has made her move already, too impatient to wait. I wouldn’t have advised that she do anything at this point, but it can be worth a shot if Sam is the type of guy who needs a shoulder to cry on and who could be tempted into forgetting about his marriage troubles by a little attention from somebody else. The worst that could happen would be Sam turning her down, but that doesn’t mean something can’t happen in the future. It just means he isn’t ready for it yet because he is still thinking about his wife and the slim chance of recovering the marriage. But give it time, and he’ll come round. They all do. That’s because perhaps the most fundamental thing that underpins the total success of my business is not sex, lust, desire, greed, love, betrayal or revenge.

  It’s loneliness, or rather, every human being’s need to avoid being lonely at all costs.

  Nobody wants to be on their own, despite what they might say. Human beings thrive on social contact and affection from their fellow man or woman, which is why Sam will eventually start to crave affection from elsewhere now that he won’t be getting it from his wife. He might think that it’s Rebecca or nothing, but he’ll soon realise that it’s not as much about who the woman in his bed is but that there is a woman in there at all.

  His wife. My client. He thinks he prefers one over the other but remove one and he’ll gladly take the other option.

  I’ve removed Rebecca now, which means my client can swoop in and claim the spoils.

  This is a fun job, and the closer it gets to the end, the more fun it becomes.

  Let the games begin.

  38

  REBECCA

  The loud shouting from my husband in the downstairs hallway gives me the hint that Sam has come around and noticed his belongings packed into suitcases on the driveway. I knew this moment was coming, and I also knew that it wasn’t going to be easy, but it’s a moment that has to be passed through in order for us both to get to the other side.

  ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’ Sam cries as I appear at the top of the stairs and look down at his flustered face.

  ‘What does it look like I’m doing?’ I reply, keeping calm so as not to mirror his extreme anger. ‘I’m kicking you out.’

  ‘By putting all my stuff on the driveway?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘What if somebody had stolen it all? You could have at least told me!’

  ‘Maybe I should have done. You’ll have to forgive me, but I was a little distracted by the fact that my husband is a cheating rat who has been up to all sorts behind my back.’

  Sam looks furious, and I’m not sure if it’s just about the suitcase situation or whether it’s because I am calling him out on who he really is as a man. Either way, he looks so angry that the thought crosses my mind that he might start doing a lot more than shouting. He looks like he wants to punch a hole in the wall, and I worry for a second that I might have pushed him too far, even after what he has done to me. But fortunately, he doesn’t put any holes in the wall, and he seems to calm down after a few tense seconds of him glaring at me from the bottom of the stairs while I look down at him from the top.

  ‘Can you come down here? I have something to talk to you about,’ Sam says before he walks away into the living room.

  ‘I have nothing more to say to you!’ I call after him, but I get no response, and it’s clear he isn’t going to leave until I en
gage with him a little more.

  Reluctantly plodding down the stairs, I find him in the living room sitting on one of the two sofas, so I take my seat on the one opposite him.

  ‘What?’ I ask, with plenty of venom in my voice.

  ‘Remember the private investigator I talked about? The one I said I was hiring to find out who that woman at the door was?’

  ‘You know exactly who the woman at the door was! You slept with her!’

  Sam looks like he wants to argue back, but he grits his teeth and calms himself down again before going on.

  ‘My PI found her. Her name is Alexandra.’

  ‘Fine. Make up whatever fictitious story you want to make up about her. But I know the truth. She sent me a letter.’

  Sam looks as shocked as I had expected him to be about that news.

  ‘A letter?’

  ‘Yep. She confirmed what she had told me that night at the door, and she said she felt sorry for me and that she knew it was wrong. At least somebody is apologising for what’s happened.’

  ‘Where is this letter?’ Sam asks, looking around the room, but I just wish he would stop pretending like he can get out of this by acting dumb.

  ‘I threw it away.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Why do you think? Because it made me feel worse!’

  ‘I could have given it to the PI to look into!’

  ‘Stop talking about a stupid PI! Just admit you’re guilty so we can get on with things!’

  Sam frowns as he processes what I just said to him before he asks me another question.

  ‘What do you mean get on with things?’

  ‘I mean divorce, Sam. That’s what I mean.’

  ‘Don’t be stupid. You can’t divorce me over this.’

  ‘Why not? You cheated on me. What do you want me to wait for? Another woman at the door?’

  ‘Can’t you see she is doing all of this? She’s manipulating you into leaving me even though I’ve done nothing wrong!’

  ‘Why would she do that?’

  ‘I don’t know why yet. That’s what I’m hoping the investigator is going to find out. That’s why you need to tell me if this woman gets in touch with you again. It could be useful!’

  I’m going to scream if I have to hear about this private investigator one more time, but before I do, I decide to pull Sam up on what I saw him doing yesterday.

  ‘Actually, I was going to show you the letter she sent yesterday. I went to your office and was planning on giving it to you when you finished.’

  ‘You did?’

  Sam suddenly looks very puzzled, and I wonder if it’s because he is now wondering if I might have seen him with his female colleague. But he won’t have to wonder about it for long.

  ‘Yeah. I sat on a bench opposite your office, and I waited for you to come out so I could speak to you about that letter. But I didn’t get the chance to do that. Why? Because I didn’t want to interrupt all the fun you were having with that pretty colleague of yours.’

  ‘I wasn’t having fun. She was just trying to cheer me up.’

  ‘It looked like it was working!’

  ‘You’ve thrown me out! Forgive me if I needed a distraction from how bad my life is. What do you want me to do? Curl up into a ball and cry?’

  ‘Yes! What do you think I’ve been doing?’

  ‘But I haven’t done anything wrong, and you just need to believe me!’

  ‘That would make things easier for you, wouldn’t it? If I just believed you. If I just pretended like a woman hadn’t told me about you and her and if I hadn’t just seen you walking into a bar with some office floozy while my heart was breaking into a million pieces!’

  ‘It was just a drink! Nothing happened!’

  ‘I’ll have to take your word for that because I left before you came out. Just like I took your word all the times you told me that you loved me and that I was the only one for you.’

  Sam suddenly gets up off his sofa and comes towards me and I’m not exactly sure what he is planning on doing. But then he drops to his knees and grabs my hands before looking me straight in the eye.

  ‘You want to leave me? Fine. We can get a divorce. I’ll sign whatever you want me to sign, and you can tell people whatever you want to tell them about me and what I have supposedly done. If that is going to happen then that is what will happen, and there is nothing I can do about it.’

  I’m relieved that Sam has finally grasped the severity of our situation now, but there is something in the tone of his voice that makes me wait to see what he has to say next.

  ‘But if there is one part of you, one tiny part that still thinks there might be a chance for us then you have to give me the opportunity to fight for us, and the only way I can do that is by proving that I am innocent and that woman is guilty.’

  ‘Sam, I...’

  ‘-Wait, I’m not done,’ my husband tells me, and he keeps a firm grip on my hands with his face only a few inches away from mine as he kneels before me. ‘If I have done this and I have cheated then the PI won’t be able to find anything, will she? All of this will be an expensive waste of my time and you can divorce me then because I won’t have any way of explaining what has happened.’

  Sam nods at me as if to let me know that he is speaking sense, and I have to agree that he is.

  ‘But let’s just say for one second that I am telling the truth here. Then the investigator will get something, and that will show that I have done nothing wrong. Isn’t that chance worth fighting for? If you’re going to divorce me anyway then what have you got to lose? Just give me another day or two to try and find something on this woman. We already have her name. Now we just need to find out why she is targeting us.’

  I can see tears in my husband’s eyes, and his impassioned speech has clearly stirred up his emotions. It could all just be another act, of course, but I really hope it isn’t and not just for the sake of our marriage. It’s because if he is still lying to me now then he is damn good at it, and it means I know him even less than I thought I did. Telling fake stories is one thing, but shedding fake tears is another. That requires a different level of acting, and it’s not a level that I care to even think about.

  ‘Just another day or two. I’m telling the investigator to do whatever it takes, and I’m certain she will prove my innocence then. Just give me this last chance. You don’t have to let me back home but hold off on the divorce until you know beyond a shadow of a doubt that I am guilty.’

  I have tears in my eyes as well now, and I feel one of them running down my cheek as Sam holds onto my hands and pleads with me to give him a little time.

  ‘Fine. A couple of days. That’s it. Then I’m divorcing you.’

  It sounds crazy but Sam actually seems happy with what I have just told him, and he thanks me before getting back to his feet and heading for the door. Either he’s extremely deluded, or he really is innocent and is expecting to have the evidence to prove it soon.

  I guess I’ll find out soon enough.

  Either my husband is a cheating liar, or he is the victim of some sick woman’s game.

  I think it’s the first, but I hope to be proven wrong by it being the second. But what would that say about the state of the world if it is the second? What would it mean if there is somebody out there going around ruining people’s marriages by spreading a web of lies?

  It doesn’t bear thinking about.

  Then again, neither does divorce either.

  39

  SAM

  After the shock of going to my house and seeing my clothes in suitcases on the driveway, I have managed to regroup and buy myself a little more time before Rebecca can forge ahead and file for divorce. But that’s all it is. Just a little more time. Without some hard evidence and tangible facts to prove my innocence, there is no doubt that Rebecca and I are finished.

  That is why I’m now on the phone to Erica to get another update from her.

  The last time I spoke to her was this morn
ing when I had given her full authority to do whatever she had to do to get me the truth about Alexandra. Recording devices. Cameras. Phone hacking. Whatever it took, and whatever it cost, I wanted my PI to know that nothing was off-limits anymore.

  ‘Hi, how’s it going?’

  My first words to Erica sound like the words of a man greeting a friend after having not seen them for a few days. Casual. Open-ended. Carefree. But that’s not what my words mean at all in this case. In this case, I want to know how things are going in terms of the illegal operation I have given Erica permission to execute on my behalf.

  ‘Sam, I wasn’t expecting to hear from you so soon.’

  ‘I know, but things are happening here, and I’ll be honest with you, Erica. I’m getting desperate. My wife is going to divorce me, and she is going to do it quickly unless I can prove my innocence.’

  ‘How quick are we talking?’

  ‘I’ve got a couple of days, max.’

  There’s silence at the other end of the line, so I waste no time in filling it.

  ‘Is that going to be a problem?’

  I sincerely hope not, but I have to find out if the self-imposed deadline I just gave to my wife was really a bad idea and one more nail in my coffin.

  ‘You’re really not giving me much time to do my thing,’ Erica replies, but I choose to look at her response as a positive one because she hasn’t shut me down completely yet.

  ‘So what have you done?’ I ask.

  I hear a deep sigh at the other end of the line before I get the answer.

  ‘I have hired an assistant who I have used in the past, and he is going to help us gain access into Alexandra’s home this evening.’

  I didn’t realise Erica had an assistant at her disposal, and maybe it’s a sign that I’m paying her too well.