Uninvited

Cat Connor

Catriona stepped back to admire her handiwork. The banister on the stairs gleamed with freshly polished brilliance. She smiled, enjoying the lemon scent of the Pledge almost as much as the gleam from the banister. She turned her attention and polishing cloth to the antique oak sideboard in the long hallway by the front door. Shake, spray, polish. The routine somehow soothed her. Shake, spray, polish.

The washing machine beeped as it finished another load . From the kitchen, she heard the coffee maker gurgle as the last of the water dripped through the filter. She glanced around a cell phone on a shelf above the sideboard buzzed, alerting her to a text message.

She picked the phone up and read the message, I found you. I told you I would.

The phone slipped from her grasp. It clattered to the immaculately polished wooden floor. Her heart raced. Anger rose sending flaming tendrils of heat through her body.

“No,” she said aloud. “I will not let him destroy our lives again.”

She returned to the task at hand rubbing polish into the inlaid wood of the sideboard. She polished until she could no longer see the text message words in her mind. The main house phone rang echoing down the hall. She ignored it and polished harder.

Under the sound of the washing machine and the tumble of the drier she heard faint strains of music from the radio. Above the household noises baby chortled in its pram. Catriona finished the table, enjoying a sense of satisfaction as she observed the light reflecting off patterns in the wood. The soft chortling became an insistent cry, and Catriona hurried into the living room polish and cloth in hand. Her thirteen-week-old son stopped crying as he heard his mother approach.

“Hush. I'll be with you in a minute,” Catriona said quietly.

She carried on through the room and into the kitchen. Carefully she put the cloth and polish can back in the cupboard under the sink. She washed her hands while gazing out the window into the back yard. She noted the lawns hadn't been mowed for a week. At the bottom of the garden, an apple tree bent under the weight of its crop. Catriona hoped Peadar would be home in time to mow the grass, she hated that it made the yard untidy. A sadness crept upon her and she realized all the work they'd put in to their lovely garden no longer mattered. The text message meant they'd be leaving, running again.

The baby cried again, drawing Catriona back to the living room.

She unbuckled the pram harness and scooped Alec into her arms. The crying stopped immediately. His face brightened then he smiled a beautiful gummy grin for his mother. Catriona settled herself into the old wooden rocking chair in the living room cradling the child in the crook of her arm. With her free hand she wiped a small tear from her baby son's eye. “No tears little Alec,” she whispered. She lifted her tee shirt and snuggled the baby close. Within seconds, the child was suckling, making the occasional contented murmur as he gulped the warm milk.

Catriona stroked Alec's soft red hair wondering if he'd get the dreaded unruly curls that had plagued her all her life, but there didn't seem to be much hope. Already a small innocent curl wrapped itself around her finger. Alec looked up at his mother, their deep blue eyes locking. Catriona saw hope. She hoped Alec saw love. The corners of his mouth turned up, he gurgled with a mouthful of milk.

Catriona smiled. “No talking with your mouth full.”

Alec giggled; milk ran from the corner of his mouth all over Catriona. The warm liquid quickly cooled.

“Now that was just icky, Alec.”

Alec snuggled back in for more lunch. Catriona patted his back, gently rocking in the warm sun. At that moment, all was right with the world, except it wasn't, he was back, and everything would change. She wished they could just go home. She missed home. She missed her family. Alec moved. A contented smile lay on his milk-covered lips as he drifted into a deep sleep.

“You should be able to see your grandparents. They should know they have a grandson.” She didn't try to hide the sadness in her voice. With a gentle touch, she stroked his head. “I'm sorry, this isn't the life I wanted for you.”

***

Clouds gathered above the hills, Peadar saw them as he drove toward home. He hated Tuesday meetings that sometimes made him late. Peadar glanced at the gathering clouds one last time before taking the next left into his street; he would have to mow the lawns before dinner to beat the rain.

He checked himself in the rear view mirror and promptly turned the scowl on his face into a smile. He knew she hated it when he came home frowning. Peadar pulled smoothly up the driveway, checked he was still smiling then strode into the house.

“Hi honey, I'm home,” he called dropping his keys, sunglasses, and wallet in a dish on the sideboard in the hallway. He frowned slightly as he saw Catriona's cell phone on the floor. Peadar picked it up and noticed the screen was blank. He didn't bother turning it on, there was no need. He was home now and all was well. He put the phone back on the shelf.

“We're in the living room,” she called back brightly.

He appeared smiling and clutching his lunch box in his hand.

“Was lunch okay?” she asked laying the now sleeping Alec in his pram.

“Yes it was thank you.”

Peadar placed the lunch box on the hutch dresser next to him. He wrapped his arms around Catriona. Together they watched their baby sleep.

“How was your day?” Catriona asked.

“It was fine. How was yours?” His chin rested on the top of her head. He could see the kitchen through the open door; there didn't appear to be any dinner cooking.

“It was an okay day.”

Peadar sensed unrest. He couldn't put his finger on it, but he knew something wasn't right. “Do I have time before dinner to mow the lawns?”

“Absolutely. I haven't even thought about dinner yet. I hate Tuesdays. I'm never sure if you'll be late or not.”

“I'll get on with the lawns then,” he replied. The sense of unrest disappeared. He decided not to pursue it; he'd bring it up later, after dinner maybe.

Peadar kissed the top of her head, and left Catriona watching the baby sleep. He changed from Peadar, the mild mannered Office Max employee, into Peadar, the wonder gardener.

Catriona—satisfied Alec was sleeping contentedly—was busy in the kitchen.

He noticed the answer machine blinking as he passed by heading for the back door. She had ignored the phone again, and there were seven messages. Peadar paused. He was tempted briefly to listen to the messages, but changed his mind in favor of the lawns. He pressed the delete button then moved on. For an instant, he wondered if that was why Catriona seemed out of sorts. He shook the feeling off and carried on with his chores.

***

Catriona walked through the open plan dinning room and living room, passing the sleeping baby as she did. He slept peacefully. She smiled. Catriona opened the door to the hallway and stepped out. She noticed the front door standing ajar. “Silly door didn't latch again,” she murmured to herself and pressed - it shut.

“Peadar,” Catriona called up the stairs, “dinner's ready.” As usual, she didn't wait for a reply. He always heard her. He always came to the table on time.

Catriona shut the living room door as she went through. She checked on the sleeping baby once more, then set the table. She could hear Peadar moving about upstairs. The familiar noise as his chair slid across the floor, then heavy footsteps creaked on the polished wood and brought a smile to her face. It often sounded as though he was rearranging the entire top floor, but all he was really doing was moving about.

Catriona put the warm plates on the table. She heard the second stair creak as weight shifted off it. The living room door opened and quietly closed . Just in time for dinner , she thought. Footsteps moved toward the dining room.

She called from the kitchen, “Sit, Peadar, I'm getting the salt and pepper.”

An unfamiliar shadow fell from the kitchen doorway, splashing gray across the floor and onto her feet. She glanced down making a mental note to wax the floor in the morning.

She jumped as, upstairs, something crashed to the floor.

Catriona stepped sideways, shielding her hand with her body, as she gripped the handle of the paring knife on the bench. The shadow breathed, its edges shimmered, reality blurred. Then a bolt of adrenaline hit and she realized she was looking at Rossi.

Her body tensed. Where was Peadar? What had he done to Peadar? She forced herself into a calm mental space.

Her hearing became more acute; she listened for baby sounds. There was another crash from upstairs then a thump, but nothing from Alec in the living room. Her mind briefly considered the possibility of another intruder upstairs fueled in part because Peadar hadn't appeared. She knew there wouldn't be, Rossi worked alone. She hoped the noises upstairs were Peadar trying to get to her.

Rossi spoke, his voice smooth like velvety chocolate pudding. “You were harder to find this time.”

She left one hand on the bench, covering the knife, turning slowly, to see the shadow.

She listened, more thumping and crashing came from upstairs. Her heart hoped Peadar would swoop to the rescue. She swallowed terror, as she realized he may not.

“And yet here you are,” she replied. “Uninvited.”

“Not entirely uninvited. I did call. I even left a text message.”

She listened for sounds from her baby while replying. “I don't check messages.”

“I see you had a child.” He appeared annoyed. “My intel neglected to mention a child.” His tone changed, lending his words a sudden and chilling nastiness. “This would've been so much easier without it.”

Swells of panic surged through her.

A small noise from Alec triggered an adrenal response. Fight or flight.

“I'm coming, Alec,” she said calmly, ignoring the way the shadow shook his head. “Rossi, get out of my house!”

Catriona adjusted her grip on the knife; she curled her fingers around the handle.

He smiled and replied, “No.”

Alec let out a distressed squeal. Pure, primal maternal instinct flooded Catriona's very being. No one was going to keep her from her child. Not even this maniac.

Rossi turned his head toward the noise.

Lunging, she struck with the force and fury of a lioness. She shoved the blade of the paring knife into his throat. To the hilt. Using both hands, she twisted it and pulled it out. Gouts of blood pumped from his severed carotid artery. He flailed wildly, clutching his neck with one hand, trying to grab her with the other.

A wild slash of Catriona's knife opened his palm to the bone. He jerked the damaged hand away from her, staring at it in shock and horror, before bringing it to his throat in desperation.

Small, crimson geysers spurted from between his fingers as he now tried to staunch the flow with both hands. His feet struggled for purchase on the blood-slicked linoleum.

She lunged again, this time connecting to soft tissue of his gut. She twisted, pushed, twisted and pulled. Blood splattered, and a fecal stench filled the air as gas escaped his punctured intestines with a whoosh. Another stab, and the contents of his mangled stomach spilled into his body cavity. Almost instantly, another sour smell assailed her nostrils as he heaved up a gout of bloody vomit

The knife buried itself in more of his flesh, dragging, stabbing, slicing, blood sprayed and splattered. Words of derision flew from her to the dying man's ears.

He lay, eyes open, crumpled on the pale gray linoleum. Red ran down the white cabinets, red ran down the open door, and red pooled on the floor.

The knife fell from her grasp. “I'm done running from you!” she hissed through clenched teeth. “I'm taking my life back.”

Catriona staggered to the sink. Red dripped onto the faucet as she turned it. Catriona leaned against the counter washing her trembling hands. She let the voice in her head tell her it was over as many times as it could. Alec screamed in the living room.

***

Peadar pounded down the stairs. Alec's scream rung in his ears. He stormed into the living room and stopped at the pram. He sighed with relief at the sight of his unharmed son and he called out, “Catriona?”

“I'm okay,” she replied, from the kitchen.

Peadar spoke to the sobbing baby, his voice calm. “Daddy's here, Alec.” He slipped the pacifier into Alec's open mouth. Tears lay on his son's cheeks.

Peadar looked around, everything was still. He heard running water in the kitchen, the sound of Catriona washing up. A strange sense of calm filled him.

“Catriona?” he called, as he walked across the dining room toward the kitchen.

“Just washing up,” she replied apologetically with an unsteady voice. “Made a bit of a mess.”

He stopped at the door. Peadar saw the red tracks down the white cabinets and smudged red shoeprints on the gray linoleum. His eyes skirted the death on the floor.

“How did he find us?” he asked. It was a rhetorical question. The overwhelming, slaughtered-hog stench from the gaping rent in the dead man's abdomen assaulted his senses, nearly causing him to retch.

Catriona dried her hands on a dishtowel, folded it carefully, and placed it on the counter. With shaking hands she unbuttoned her splattered shirt and dropped it into the sink.

She scrutinized Peadar's face. A huge fresh bruise spread across the side of his head and a rectangular pink area lay across his mouth and cheeks. “Your face?”

“I'm fine.” He gingerly touched the bruise, remnants of duct tape hung from his wrists. “Alec is fine.”

“We're okay.” Relief hung heavy in her voice.

“I'll make the call. Go and change, Alec needs you.”

Catriona took her shoes off after stepping over the dead man. Peadar lifted her over the blood pool in the doorway. She padded upstairs in her socks.

***

Peadar tore the last of the tape from his wrists, tossing it on the dining table. He scooped Alec into his arms breathing in the warm soft scent of his hair. He adjusted his hold on the baby to free a hand. Peadar picked up the phone and keyed in a number from the address book on Catriona's desk.

“This is Peadar O'Reagan; we have a situation.”

“Peadar, you're speaking with Jeremiah. What do you need?”

“Clean up.”

Jeremiah sucked in air so quickly Peadar expected him to cough. “Clean up?”

“We're done moving, we're done hiding. Somehow Rossi found us again .” There was a hint of pride in his voice. “He underestimated Catriona.”

Alec cooed, rubbing his face into his father's shirt.

“The baby?”

“He's untouched.”

“And Rossi?”

“Dead.”

Jeremiah's voice lightened. “Guess that means you won't need us anymore.”

Peadar could hardly imagine life without Jeremiah and his team arranging for new houses, names, and lives whenever Rossi got too close. “Can you send a crew? I want this over as quickly as possible.”

“Absolutely. Take Catriona and the baby away for the night. I'll contact you via your cell phone when we're done.”

“Thank you.”

“You're welcome. I'm sorry it came to this.”

“Me too. I dared to think we were finally safe here.” Peadar knew that three years of living in fear would be hard to let go. Every time they started to feel secure Rossi would turn up again. Even knowing he was dead on the kitchen floor wouldn't stop them wondering, looking over their shoulders, waiting for the next contact.

“I hope I never have to do another threat assessment on a former colleague. I was beginning to believe Rossi was bullet proof. Seriously, Peadar, the only way to stop him was kill him.”

“He's been stopped.”

Peadar hung up the phone. Snuggling the baby close he moved through the room, gathering the things they needed for him with his free hand. He dropped a pack of diapers, baby wipes, face cloths, bibs and a spare pacifier onto the sofa in the living room.

Catriona swept into the room, smelling of shampoo and soap. Her wet hair hung over her shoulders leaving damp patches on her tee shirt.

He told her Jeremiah suggested they leave for the night. She helped Peadar to pack for Alec. From under her desk she removed a small packet containing driver's licenses, passports, and credit cards. Half an hour later they quietly left the house. They checked into a hotel in the city using their current names for the last time. In the wee hours Jeremiah called to say he would drop by to finalize the next phase.

Dawn had barely broken when Jeremiah knocked on their hotel room door. Peadar opened the door slowly and held his finger to his lips. “They're sleeping,” he whispered.

Jeremiah nodded his understanding as he slipped into the room, closing the door quietly behind him. The men spoke in low tones by the door.

“Will there be fall out from this?” Peadar asked.

“No.”

Peadar frowned. “How the hell do you make someone like Rossi disappear with no questions asked?”

Jeremiah spoke softly, “Ex-Special Agent Rossi was mentally unstable.” He smiled. “There is no other explanation as to why he stalked Catriona with such ferocity. The meltdown he had in the court house when he discovered you had proposed to her is all we need to set the scene.”

“You just make him disappear?”

“Peadar, if he hadn't had such tight connections, trust me when I tell you, he would've disappeared long ago.”

“We're okay?”

Jeremiah nodded. “Everything's taken care of. All we need to know now is where you would like to go.”

Peadar smiled. “Catriona and I discussed this, and we want to go home. We want to go back to our lives including. . .” He paused. “Our jobs.”

Jeremiah narrowed his eyes and leaned back on the door.

“Surely this isn't a surprise to you?” Peadar asked. “One day this had to be over. You must've considered that we'd want to go back to what we know.”

Jeremiah shook his head slightly, his mouth moving without sound. Slowly the delayed reaction caught up and audible words formed in an incredulous tone. “You want to go back? Just walk back in and sit down at your desk and pretend nothing ever happened?”

“Yes.”

“You realize how hard that is going to be? How many questions will be asked, how many people will be hounding you for your story?. I can't believe you are prepared to go through more harassment. Haven't the last three years been enough?”

Peadar nodded. “We've been through more than you can realize, and we've done it alone. Now we want and need to go back to what we know. We have a son, who has an extended family who've never met him. It stops now ”

***

“Sir! Sir!”

The pounding of footsteps and shouting behind Peter attracted his attention. He turned to see a young man carrying a camera running toward him.

“Sir!”

Peter stood still, waiting for whatever was about to follow. The young man pulled himself to a halt several feet in front of him.

“How can I help you?” Peter asked with cool reserve.

For several seconds the man stared gasping for air; sweat dripping from his brow. He passed his hand across his face, then spoke. “Peter Hartwell?”

Peter nodded. “Yes, that's me.”

The man's confidence returned. “I am Christian Cobham, with the Richmond Times. Can I ask a few questions?”

“We aren't giving interviews.”

“Just one then,” he said and barely took a breath. “Why did you come back?”

Peter turned to walk on. He knew it had just begun and even a hint of willingness would start a media frenzy. “Because it's over,” he stated, over his shoulder, then disappeared into the throng of midday shoppers.

An hour later he pulled into his driveway. Peter checked his smile in the rear view mirror. It was still there.

He opened the front door; the smell of furniture polish permeated the warm air.

“Hi honey, I'm home.”

“We're in the living room,” Meaghan called back. “How was your morning?” she asked as he appeared in the living room doorway.

“It was good,” he replied. “How's our little man?”

Meaghan passed Alec to him as he sat on the sofa next to them. “He's just great.”

Alec grinned and cooed at Peter, then settled against him chewing on his tiny fingers with gusto.

“A reporter asked me a question today.”

“And?”

“And nothing.” He kissed Alec's head. “And nothing Meaghan. It's over . . .a crazed stalker took three years of our lives and met his fate. It's no one's business.”

She smiled. “Do you have any idea how many phone calls I fielded today?”

“Nope.”

“I gave up after the first twenty and flicked the machine on.”

“Any of them interesting?”

“No, each and every one was from a different magazine, or news show or some such.”

“Damn,” Peter cursed quietly.

“So Special Agent Hartwell, how would you like to proceed?”

“With caution Judge Hartwell, with extreme caution.”

Meaghan stood. “I don't believe I can stand in judgment of anyone now.” She smiled as her son swiveled his head to watch her move. “Mommy can't be that hypocritical,” she told him and he smiled at her light tone. “Mommy is a mur, mur, murderer.”

“That's shite Meaghan,” Peter said with firmness. “He tracked us through five states and two countries. He didn't stop by for dinner!”

“Doesn't change the outcome. I think I need to be a stay at home mom for a few years. Alec needs a mommy not a United States District Judge.”

“Is that your final word?”

She smiled. “Absolutely,” she said. "Court is adjourned."