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Can I Come In?

When the buzzer rang, Karolyn looked up from her computer in surprise. It was nearly 8pm; she wasn’t expecting anyone. Who could it be? A neighbour? The building manager? Her confusion kept her frozen in place, until the buzzer rang again. Only then did she reluctantly get up and cross the room to where the entryphone hung by the apartment’s front door. She picked up the handset and raised it slowly to her ear.

“Hello?”

The voice was distant and tinny, but definitely male. “Hi. Is this Karolyn Price?”

“Yes …” Her eyes shot to the small video screen above the handset’s cradle. The figure in it looked tall (though it was hard to tell since the camera pointed down from above), was wearing a dark coloured suit and carrying a duffel bag. His facial features were blurry and indistinct on the small screen. “Who is this?”

“FBI, miss. Can I come in?”

FBI? Karolyn hesitated. “Do you … have ID?”

The man paused before rummaging in his jacket pocket and pulling out a square folded item, like a wallet, which he held up close to the camera. So close, in fact, that the item went out of focus and she couldn’t make out the details on the little badge inside, except for three big blue letters: FBI. Her hand floated toward the button to unlock the downstairs door, finger outstretched, before she hesitated again. She could see enough to tell that there was no photo on the badge. Wasn’t there supposed to be a photo on FBI ID? Her hand dropped.

“Do you have anything else?” she asked.

The man dropped the badge away from the camera and frowned. “Excuse me?”

“Any other ID? Something with your photo on it?”

“No.” He paused, then said again, “Can I come in? I’m FBI.”

“What is it about?” Karolyn asked.

“I’d rather talk to you about it inside, Miss Price.” Then again: “Can I come in?”

Karolyn took a deep breath. Something felt wrong. “No, I … I’m sorry, I don’t think so.”

“But I’m FBI. It’s important.”

“Well …” She thought for a moment, then said. “What’s your name? I’d like to call and verify that you are who you say you are and that you’re supposed to be here.” Suddenly embarrassed, she added, “I’m sorry to be difficult, but we have to be careful these days. You know how it is.”

The man stood in silence for a moment. Then he tucked his badge back into his pocket and shook his head. “Never mind, miss. I’ll speak to one of your neighbours. Have a nice evening.”

“Oh … okay. Bye.” Karolyn frowned and went to put the receiver back, then stopped, watching the screen. The man stood there for a few minutes, doing nothing, seemingly in thought. Then he turned and walked away, turning left onto the sidewalk. He didn’t press any of the buttons for the other apartments in the building. He just left.

Karolyn stood staring at the shot of the empty doorstep, a slow chill running up her spine. What the hell was that about? She wondered as she replaced the receiver and the screen went black. FBI? What would the FBI want to talk to her about? And why was he acting so creepy?

Returning to her computer, she opened a new tab, looking away from her online training course, and typed ‘how to tell a genuine FBI agent’ into the search bar. A few clicks later, and she was on the FBI’s public website.

FBI agents usually, though not always, travel in pairs.

FBI agents will always show you their badge straight away, and will show it again if you ask. They will have two; one on their belt and one with their ID. If you ask, they will always give you their badge number.

An FBI agent’s ID will always have a photograph and will have the full title ‘Federal Bureau of Investigation’ at the top.

If in doubt, call the police. An FBI agent will always wait while you verify their identity.

FBI agents are required to carry firearms. These will usually be worn on their belt or in an underarm holster. If you ask, they will show you where their gun is.

There were some other points, but Karolyn had read enough. Her hand shot out for her cellphone and she dialled 911.

“911, what is your emergency?”

“I just had a man come to my door claiming to be FBI, but I don’t think he was, and he might still be outside,” Karolyn said, the words coming out in a rush. “He didn’t give me a name or a badge number and he didn’t have the right ID. What should I do?”

“Alright miss, stay calm. I’ll dispatch some officers to your location. What is your address, please?”

*******

Four nights later, at around the same time, the buzzer went again. Karolyn, in her bathrobe and crossing from her bedroom to the bathroom for a shower, froze in the hallway. The front door, and the entryphone beside it, was just a few steps in front of her. She stared at it suspiciously, as if it might come to life and attack her. The buzzer rand a second time, deafeningly loud out her in the tiny hall — really just a small rectangular space between doors. She flinched.

When the police had visited after the so-called FBI agent’s visit, they had searched the area but found no one suspicious lurking around. They’d also gotten in touch with the FBI and confirmed that no agent had been sent out to talk to her, or to anyone in the area. The police had assured her it was probably just some prankster. It was October, after all, and Hallowe’en always brought out the jokers and the crazies. But then they’d also warned her not to open the door to anyone she didn’t recognise.

“You did the right thing,” the (thankfully female) police officer had assured her. She’d wondered if they’d deliberately made sure one of the officers was a woman. If they had, she’d appreciated it. Not that she supposed women were any less dangerous than men, really, but it was comforting, nonetheless, and she –

BBZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ. A long, impatient blare of sound, making her jump. She swore softly and crossed to the entryphone, snatching up the receiver. Before she said anything, she looked at the figure on the screen and the sour tang of bile rose in the back of her throat.

It was the same man, she was sure of it. Same suit. Same duffel bag. Same short cropped hair. She took a deep breath to steady her nerves, and put the receiver to her ear. “Yes?”

“Karolyn Price?”

“Yes?”

“Delivery.”

For a moment she was astounded, and just stared blankly at the screen. She’d fully expected him to say ‘FBI’ again, and had been ready to tell him exactly why she knew he wasn’t what he said he was. But … Delivery?

“Miss Price?”

“Uh .. ye — what delivery?” she stammered out.

The man shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “I have a package for you,” he said. “Can I come in, please?”

“What package?” Karolyn demanded. “I can see you on the screen. You don’t have a package.”

The man paused, then lifted the duffel bag. “It’s in here.”

“Then get it out and show it to me.”

The man didn’t move.

“Which delivery company are you from?” Karolyn persisted. “Why aren’t you in a uniform?”

“Budget courier, miss,” the man replied. “We don’t have uniforms.”

“Then show me the package,” Karolyn said again.

“It’s in the bag,” the man repeated.

“Then take it out!”

The man didn’t move.

Karolyn sighed. “If you really have a package, you can leave it on the doorstep,” she said.

“That’s not secure, miss,” the man replied. “I have to give it to someone. Can I come in?”

“No!” she almost shouted down the receiver. “Come back in the morning and give it to the building manager, I’m not letting you in!”

After a long pause, the man nodded. “I’ll do that. Goodnight, miss.”

Karolyn didn’t reply, watching in silence as he walked away from the doorstep. Again, he turned left on the sidewalk and disappeared out of the shot. The moment he was out of sight, she slammed the receiver into its cradle and ran for her phone, which she’d left in the bedroom.

“911, what is your emergency?”

“I’ve had a man try to get me to let him into my apartment, he was here a few nights ago …”

*******

Three nights later, Karolyn was trying to get on with her online training course. For the last two nights she’d had friends over, but nothing more had happened and she felt foolish asking them back for a third night in a row (though they’d offered). The police had taken a thorough statement, she reminded herself, and canvassed the neighbours. They’d turned up only minutes after the man had left and they’d found no sign of him. He couldn’t get into the building unless someone buzzed him in, and now everyone in the building had been warned about him, so she was perfectly safe.

Still …

She sighed and read the passage on mental health reforms for a third time. It just wasn’t sinking in; she was too nervous. She wished she had asked her friends to come over again. The quiet in the apartment was unnerving. She glanced at her watch: 7.53pm. Maybe she’d just put on a movie and –

BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ.

She shrieked, jerking back in her chair and knocking a half-full glass of cola to the floor. It landed on its side and shattered, spilling brown liquid across the laminate floor, unheeded.

Don’t answer it, she thought, then almost immediately, Actually, no, do answer it. But take your phone with you this time, and call the police while he’s there.

Grabbing her phone from where it lay on the desk, she stood up and marched across the room to the front door, snatching up the receiver before she could lose her nerve. Sure enough, the man in the dark suit was standing there, looking up at the camera, face indistinct, duffel bag in hand. As if he’d never left.

Of course he left, she admonished herself. You watched him leave, and you’ve been out twice to go to work and he wasn’t outside then, was he? Get a grip, girl! She raised the receiver to her ear. “What?” she barked.

If the man was surprised by her tone, he didn’t show it. “Karolyn Price?”

“Yes,” she said through gritted teeth.

“I’m conducting some market research and I’d like to ask you a few questions about your mobile phone use,” he said. “Can I come in?”

She glanced down at her phone in her hand. Did he know that she -? No, that was ridiculous. “Market research?” she replied. “Really? Then shouldn’t you have a clipboard or something?”

The man gave no reply.

“You know what, forget it,” she snapped. “I know you’re not market research, or a delivery guy, or FBI. I don’t know who you are, but if you have a problem with me, you have five seconds to tell me what it is because then I’m calling the police.”

The man remained silent for a moment. Then he gave a slow nod and said “Can I come in?”

“No!” Karolyn cried, and slammed the receiver down. Almost immediately she picked it back up, and the screen, which had gone black as the receiver hit the cradle, flickered to life again. He was still there.

Her fingers tapped across her phone screen as fast as she could and she slapped it to her ear so hard it stung.

“911, what is your emergency?”

“My name is Karolyn Price, the strange man is at my door again right now, he’s trying to get me to let him in again, send somebody now, please!”

She could feel tears threatening, and she had to choke out the last few words. As she forced them out, she kept her eyes on the screen, the receiver gripped in her other hand like a weapon. As she finished talking, the man turned slowly and stepped off of the doorstep. He turned left onto the sidewalk and disappeared from view.

As the 911 operator went through the now familiar litany of what she should and shouldn’t do, Karolyn replaced the receiver and headed back into the living room. Then she dropped the phone and shrieked as her eyes fell on the bloody footprints laid out across the floor, headed toward her. The operator’s voice squawked in alarm, startled out of her professional calm.

It was several long seconds before Karolyn finally noticed the pain in the soles of her bare feet, and before her eyes registered the broken glass by her desk. She’d cut her feet. The blood was hers. There was nobody else here. The strength went out of her legs and she sat down hard on the floor. She reached out for the squawking phone, which was thankfully unharmed by the fall, and put it back to her ear.

“I’m here,” she said weakly, leaning against the wall behind her. “I’m fine. It’s okay … he’s gone now.”

*******

“It’s just so weird, it’s like he’s not even trying to convince me,” Karolyn said the next night to her friend, Rozz. “The first time he almost had me fooled, with the suit and the badge. But every other time, he just shows up with his suit and his bag and says he’s something else. He’s not in a uniform, he doesn’t have an ID or like, equipment … he didn’t have a package when said he was delivering a package, for god’s sake!”

Rozz nodded and poured Karolyn some more wine. “He’s just messing with you,” she assured her. “Just playing tricks. Like the police said — Hallowe’en. He’s just some loser out to scare you.”

“Then how does he know my name?” Karolyn protested. “Every time he’s come, he’s addressed me by name. First thing he says.”

Rozz shrugged. “Is your name on your bell?”

Karolyn shot her a withering look. “What am I, 90? Please. I know better than that.”

“Alright, sorry.” Rozz sighed. “You sure you didn’t recognise him?”

Karolyn shook her head. “The picture on the screen isn’t clear enough, I couldn’t make out his face. But who do I know who’d want to scare me like that?”

“Your ex?”

“Graeme is blonde, this guy’s got dark hair. Besides, we’re still friends.”

Rozz gave her a critical look. “Really? Because that’s not what I heard.”

“Oh come on,” Karolyn groaned. “I know I screwed up, and I know I hurt him, but I’ve apologised, and he’s accepted my apology, and we’ve moved on. Okay, so I’m probably not on his Christmas card list any more, but we’re civil, we talk, and even if he was still mad at me, he’s not the kind of guy to play weird pranks like this.”

Rozz shrugged again. “You never know what someone’s capable of,” she muttered, taking a sip of her wine.

“Okay, but if it had been Graeme, I would have recognised him,” Karolyn protested. “The screen’s bad, but it’s not so bad I wouldn’t recognise a guy I spent nine years with.”

“Alright, okay!” Rozz raised her hands in defeat. “Sorry I suggested it.” She glanced at her watch and grimaced. “Look, I have to go. I’m on an early shift tomorrow.”

“Already?” Karolyn said, dismayed. “It’s only 7.30.”

“And my shift starts in just over seven hours,” Rozz replied, standing up. “Sorry, sweetie. Look, why don’t you go stay with somebody for a few days? Surely you know someone who has a couch you can crash on?” She paused, then added “I’d offer, but my housemates –“

“It’s fine,” Karolyn smiled sadly. “But you know, that’s not a bad idea. Maybe I’ll call my mom and see if I can stay with her for a while.”

“Have you told her about this?”

“Are you kidding? She’d have me moved back home in a heartbeat.”

“Well, that sounds like a plan.” Rozz put her bag over her shoulder and fished out her phone. “But I really do have to go. I need to get a shower and some sleep before my shift. And under the circumstances, I think I’ll get an Uber home.”

Karolyn smiled. “Thanks, Rozz. I really appreciate you coming back with me.”

“No problem, sweetie. You take care of yourself, you hear? And try not to worry. The police are right — he can’t get into the building.” Halfway to the door, she paused. “Maybe don’t answer the buzzer in the evening anymore. If he doesn’t get a rise out of you, he might quit. If he’s just in it to scare you, I mean.”

Karolyn nodded, getting up to walk her to the door. “That’s a good idea too. I’ll give it a try.”

They hugged, and Karolyn closed and locked the door after watching her friend disappear down the stairway. Now that she was alone, the silence in the apartment was oppressive.

“I should get a bird or something,” she muttered to herself, then snorted. A stupid idea. She hated birds. She wasn’t keen on animals in general, thanks to her allergies.

She wandered back to the living room and sat back on the couch, where she and Rozz had been sitting moments before, and picked up her wine glass. Rozz’s glass still had a little left, and after a moment of consideration, she shrugged and poured what was left into her glass and took a big swallow. She didn’t normally drink red wine — it made her sleepy — but she could use a little help getting to sleep tonight. She switched on the television for some background noise, but all that was showing was horror movies and crime dramas, and she switched it off again. She took another deep swallow of her wine, relishing the growing fuzziness in her brain.

The clock on the wall ticked quietly. Ten minutes passed as she watched… fifteen …twenty. He always buzzed at just before eight. The hands moved up to 7.53 … 7.54 … 7.55 … 7.56 … 7.57 …

BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ.

Karolyn’s blood went cold. Her hand tightened around the wine glass. Don’t answer, she thought. She took another drink of her wine.

BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ.

Don’t answer. She finished the wine in her glass and picked up the bottle. Damn it, it was empty. She put the bottle and the glass back down.

BBBZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ.

“Go away,” she moaned, burying her face in her hands. Her fingers grasped at her hair and pulled. “Go away, go away, I’ not answering so just go away!”

BBBBZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ. BZZZZZZZZZZ BZZZZZZZZZZZ BZZZZZZZZZZZ BBZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ.

“Oh, fuck you!” she cried, leaping to her feet and running to the front door. Snatching the receiver up, she yelled into it “LEAVE ME ALONE!”

The man was looking up at the screen. “Karolyn Price?”

“Fuck you!” She snarled. “You know damn well who this is! Leave me alone, did you hear me? I’m not going to let you in, so just fuck off!”

The man didn’t even flinch. “Maintenance. You reported a leaky tap. Can I come in?”

“No, I didn’t! And you’re not Maintenance, I know who Maintenance are!”

A short pause, and then “I’m from the gas company, Miss Price, we’ve had reports of a leak in the building. Can I come in?”

“What?” She stared at the little screen. His face was still too fuzzy to make out, but the way he was staring up at the camera … It was like he was looking through the screen, right at her … right into her eyes …

“I’m here to deliver the good news about Jesus Christ. Can I come in?”

Karolyn was dumbfounded. “You –“

“Pizza delivery, Miss Price. Can I come in?” No longer pausing to hear her answers, he went on. “I have a package for you, Miss Price. Can I come in? My car broke down and I need to use a phone. Can I come in? Market research, Miss Price. Can I come in? Police, Miss Price. We’ve had reports of a disturbance at this address. Can I come in? FBI, Miss Price, I need to talk to you about a sensitive issue. Can I come in?”

“NO!” Karolyn screamed into the receiver. “NO NO NO NO NO!” Slamming it back into the cradle, she sunk to the floor and curled up, her knees to her chest, arms over her face, hands covering her ears, trying to block out the sound of buzzer.

BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ.

BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ.

BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ.

BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ.

BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ …

****

She woke up on the floor in the early hours of the morning. She couldn’t remember when the buzzer had stopped. She felt weak and sweaty, and her mouth tasted sour. The lights were all off and the apartment felt claustrophobically small. Too weary to stand, she crawled into the living room and located her phone. Still on the floor, she typed ‘Mom’ in and selected her number.

A sleepy voice answered. “Hello? Karolyn, honey? What’s wrong?”

“Hi Mommy,” she replied. Her voice was small and shrill, like a child’s. “I’m sorry to wake you, but I was wondering if I can come stay with you?”

There was a pause. “Now?”

“If that’s okay.”

“What’s happened? Are you alright?”

“Mom, can I tell you about it when I get there please? I just don’t want to be alone in my apartment right now.”

“Well — of course honey, come right over. I’m just …. It’s the middle of the night, is all. I thought — I got worried.”

“I know, Mommy. I’m sorry. I’ll be there soon. I love you. Bye.”

She hung up and forced herself to get to her feet, then walked on shaky legs to the bedroom. Pulling a bag out of her wardrobe (a duffel bag, she noted with a chill), she pulled some clothes out of the drawers and stuffed them in, then went into the bathroom and grabbed all the toiletries she used each morning. Then she carried the bag into the living room and picked up her phone charger and keys. Finally, she went back into the hall, pulled on a jacket, slipped on her sneakers, and unlocked and opened the front door.

Standing on her doormat was a man in a dark suit, a duffel bag in one hand. In his other hand was a small gun. Karolyn looked up, senses dulled by a kind of tired shock, and even as she felt the heavy punch of the bullet in her gut, and the next in her chest, her eyes stayed fixed on his face. His blurry, indistinct face.

He was right in front of her, her mind protested as she fell backwards into her tiny hallway, but his face was still blurry. He wasn’t on the screen any more but his face was still blurry.

Her vision slid to the right, and she was looking at him sideways. Still his face was indistinct and fuzzy. She drew a breath to speak and it was like breathing fire, but her arms and legs felt icy cold.

“Who …?” she gasped, as he raised the gun and pointed it at her face. “Who let you in?”

*******

Mrs Cartwright hurried to the spyhole in her front door and peered out. That loud noise had sounded awfully like a gunshot, and it had come from right outside her door. What was that young tearaway next door up to now?

She looked out, and the fisheye lens gave her a distorted view of a man in a dark suit. His head turned to look in her direction, but there must have been something wrong with the lens, because his features were blurry, as if the glass was smudged.

She jumped back in surprise when he stepped forward and knocked on her door.

Tap tap tap. Small, polite taps.

“Mr Cartwright? FBI. Can I come in?”

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