Who is it?

“Police stumped! No clues to the recent disappearances in the Winfield area. The offender is known to be impersonating another man or woman; people are advised not to open doors to any unknown surveyors or business men.”

Jessica sat on her couch gazing upon the television screen as this headline blared from WNBC’s reporter Steven Matthew. Her eyes kept darting to the windows and doors as her hands began to tremble and twitch in a state of paranoia. She kept imagining things; people in her house. She had just recently moved into this house and wasn’t used to its emptiness and vast size yet. The house was located on a suburban street called Hillcrest; it was a colourful street where each house seemed to stand on its own little isolated hill. Tonight, however, one could hardly notice its beauty due to the cascading down pour of rain pounding the street, and the prospect of a cold blooded killer lurking around. Jessica was just thinking she would check to make sure all the entrances to the house were locked when she heard a light knock on the front door. Her body seemed to seize up as she cautiously approached the large wooden door.

“Who is it?” she inquired.

“Good evening Ma’am I’m looking for Ryan Davis”

Jessica stared through the peephole and saw a relatively tall middle aged man, wearing what seemed to be a well-tailored suit; it was difficult to tell due to the blurred droplets of rain masking his image. He had no umbrella.

“Who?” She asked

“Ryan Davis, I’m a business associate of his and he hasn’t been answering my calls for weeks.”

“I’m sorry there is no Ryan Davis living here, this is the Martin residence.”

“ Is this 415 Hillcrest Street?” He asked.

“Yes” Jessica answered hesitantly.

There was a pause; the man seemed to be thinking.

“Ma’am, do you think I could borrow your phone? I don’t seem to have brought mine”

“Why don’t you just drive on over to the police station 6 blocks down, they’ve got one there.”

“I don’t have a car Ma’am and it’s raining very hard! Please Ma’am just one call!”

“I’m very sorry but no.” Said Jessica as she walked back towards the couch and sat down.

A few minutes later, there were several bangs upon the door. Jessica jumped and hurried to peer through the peep hole.

“MA’AM! PLEASE YOU MUST LET ME IN!” cried the man, he was sopping wet and still hammering against the door frame.

“NO I DON’T KNOW YOU!” Jessica yelled

“BUT MA’AM YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND! I JUST SAW A MAN CLIMB THROUGH YOUR UPSTAIRS WINDOW!”

Jessica wield about, and gazed upon the staircase leading to the second floor. She instinctively grabbed a metal poker from the fire and held it behind her back.

“PLEASE MA’AM I CAN HELP! YOU’RE IN DANGER!”

Jessica’s hands were sweating, as she very cautiously opened the front door and the man stumbled in.

“Matt Palmer pleasure to meet you ma’am.” He said, a sly smile creeping across his face.

Jessica didn’t answer; she was still gazing at the carpeted staircase winding its way upstairs.

“Don’t worry there’s no one inside your house! I just said that to get inside, it’s raining so much I couldn’t stand it!”

There was a still silence. Jessica’s face was contorted with a mixture of fear and rage as she turned to the stranger.

“Gotcha!” said Matt as he began to remove his jacket.

“You probably think I’m that killer they’ve been talking about on the news. I bet you’re thinking: what is he going to use to slice me up?” He said, now fully grinning.

Jessica made out a gold filling at the back of his mouth.

“Don’t cha?” He said, now laughing manically.

Jessica fingered the hot poker behind her back, and asked timidly, “What do you want from me?”

“Hmmmmm a hot cup of tea and some bread would be nice. It was deadly cold outside.” said Matt now rubbing his hands together.

“Fine, but you must go after that!” said Jessica as she led him to the kitchen, dropping the poker back near the fire.

The kettle whistled two minutes later, fogging up the kitchen windows with steam. Jessica gave Matt his tea and watched him drinking hesitantly.

“Ahhhhh that’s better! Thank you Ma’am.” Said Matt

Jessica didn’t answer; she had noticed a shiny metal instrument protruding out of the man’s pocket.

“Please you must leave now; my boyfriend will be home any minute.”

Matt laughed. “You don’t have a boyfriend ma’am! Nobody knows you’re here.”

“Please leave or I’ll call the police!”

“And what if I said I’m not going to… at least not yet?” he said smirking.

Jessica picked up the nearest phone and dialled 911.

“Officer please some man has entered my house! My address is 415 Hillcrest Street!” She yelled, and slammed the phone back down on the receiver.

Matt got up and yawned. “Okay ma’am, I’m leaving nothing to worry about,” he said and proceeded to open the front door. As it creaked open, another man was revealed standing on the door step, and Matt caught off guard retreated as fast as he could back into the house.

The man entered the house, his sopping wet boots preceding his lanky frame. “Police Department, you called for assistance.”

“YES! Officer this man has entered my house and is not willing to leave! He’s going to kill me! He’s the mad killer on the news!” yelled Jessica.

The officer said nothing, but pulled a gun from his jacket pocket and pointed it towards Matt.

“WAIT MA’AM BACK AWAY FROM HIM!” cried Matt.

“Shut up and get your hands behind your head!” said the officer.

“HOW CAN IT BE POSSIBLE THAT THE POLICE WOULD COME TO YOUR DOOR JUST SECONDS AFTER YOU CALLED?” screamed Matt.

“WHAT KIND OF POLICE OFFICER DOESN’T WEAR A UNIFORM!?”

Jessica picked up the poker she had left near the fire and waved it in front of her, hitting the officer’s gun to the floor. She lunged for it and stood up pointing it at both Matt and the so called police man.

“WHO ARE YOU!?” she asked, yelling and shaking.

“I’m just a thief,” replied the man in a husky voice his hands raised.

“BULL SHIT! HES THE KILLER SHOOT HIM MA’AM!” screamed Matt

“I SWEAR I’M NOT! HONEST IM JUST A THIEF!” said the man

“KILL HIM! OR HE’LL KILL US BOTH” yelled Matt.

“Jessica listen to me, I came to steal from Ryan Davis’s house,” the man pleaded.

“THIS IS THE MARTIN’S HOUSE NOT RYAN DAVIS!” thundered Jessica.

The two men were sweating profusely, as they backed up towards the couch.

“SIT OR ILL SHOOT YOU BOTH,” warned Jessica

“Ma’am…please ma’am... Do I look like a killer?” asked Matt

“OF COURSE HE DOES SHOOT HIM MA’AM!” said the thief

“SHUT UP!!!!” She yelled and fired a bullet through the ceiling. The sound echoed and the two men fell silent. Jessica’s eyes were bulging and her neck twitching.

Matt and the thief sat deadly still looking at the woman before them.

“Ma’am please listen to...” but before Matt could finish his sentence Jessica had sent another bullet whizzing through a china doll, just feet from where they were sitting.

“SHUT UP!” She yelled now retreating a couple steps from the couch where the men were situated.

The thief stood up and started to laugh, “Only two bullets ma’am” he said cheekily beginning to advance on her. Jessica pulled the trigger but nothing was fired, and the man began to roar with laughter. Then out of nowhere Matt dived across the floor and groped for the hot poker from the fire, and just as the thief turned to face him drove it into his gut. Blood gushed from his body, staining the carpets covering the floor a brilliant scarlet. Jessica screamed a blood curdling scream which seemed to reverberate around the room. Just as she screamed, there was a blast of thunder and lightning and the lights in the house went out. Matt could hear running footsteps proceeding up the spiral staircase.

“MA’AM! IF I DIDN’T KILL HIM HE WOULD HAVE KILLED US BOTH” he cried to the darkness, but there was no reply.

Matt reached around in the darkness for the phone to call 911, but as he placed it to his ear, no dial tone could be heard. He followed the wire connecting the receiver to the plug point and to his horror found it to be cut by what seemed to be a serrated knife.

“What?” Matt thought, puzzled.

“Who would cut the cord!? Does this mean..?”

“MA’AM! THERE’S SOMEONE ELSE IN THE HOUSE! Matt yelled out loud as he began blindly thundering up the spiral staircase. There was no answer. Matt’s heart was pounding, threatening to burst out of his chest. Slowly, he pulled the tiny camp knife from his waist coat pocket and held it out in front of him. The darkness was overwhelming and all he could hear was the consistent down pour of rain and the thunder booming outside.

“Ma’am?” He whispered into the darkness, still no reply. Matt was panting now, his feet were shuffling through the corridor making hardly a sound, then suddenly there was a CRASH, the sound of breaking glass, and Matt without thinking began running straight ahead, his eyes set on the sanctuary of the room before him. And then he tripped, over something large, something soft. His knife flew out of his hand as his face collided with the stone cold floor, breaking his nose and spewing blood. As he turned to see the cause of his fall, a stroke of lightning flashed and illuminated a mangled and mutilated body. It was Ryan Davis, the real owner of the house. Eyes rolled back so that only white could be seen, he was dead. Piecing it together, Matt recalled the day’s news headlines: “known to be impersonating another man or woman.” Matt felt a chill trickle down his spine and turned to face the true killer.

“Gotcha,” said Jessica, licking her lips.