No Good Deed

“Monty, come on.”

           The stubborn old corgi looked up at Sarah with a vacuous expression, made all the worse by the fact that he knew exactly what he was doing. He squatted and puffed out whatever minuscule specks of urine were still in his tank. 

           “You don’t have to pee, you’re just marking, let’s go,” Sarah reasoned, giving Monty’s leash a gentle tug. 

           Monty followed, but it was of his own volition. The old dog may have adored his supposed master, but he knew who was in charge. 

           In the increasing gloom of an autumn evening, they plodded along the cracked and uneven sidewalk, headed for home. Veering from their path and toward the shoulder of the road they paralleled, Monty busied himself with snuffling something, dragging them to a halt once again. 

           “Monty, heel,” Sarah insisted, pulling on the leash once more.

           Monty resisted and Sarah approached him, intending to snag the obstinate corgi by his collar and pull him away from whatever had captured his interest. Anticipating another dog’s droppings, Sarah was surprised to find a phone lying in the gravel. She looked up and down the sidewalk, thinking that perhaps someone had dropped it. There was nobody nearby.

           She guided Monty away from the side of the road as a truck sped by, buffeting her with a wall of cold air. After it had passed, she approached the phone again and picked it up. A long vertical crack ran down the left side of the screen, but otherwise it appeared to be intact. She tapped the screen and it awoke, showing her a smiling middle-aged woman flanked by two younger girls that were unmistakably related to her. The trio stood before a Christmas tree, each wearing a different set of festive pajamas. 

           Sarah didn’t recognize the woman as any neighbor of hers, though she looked oddly familiar. She attempted to unlock the phone, but found it to be password protected. She frowned, trying to figure out what to do next. No longer being able to examine the phone himself, Monty stared up at her impatiently. 

           After a few futile guesses of the number combination that would unlock the phone, Sarah decided she’d drop it off at the police station on her way home from work the next day. There was no need to rush out tonight, and, in fact, she resented the burden of having to go out of her way at all. She toyed with the idea of just putting it back, rationalizing that whoever dropped it would come back looking for it, but, ultimately, she knew what the right thing to do was.

           She slipped the phone into her back pocket and headed home. 

●

By the time she made it back to her condo, ominous clouds were piling up on the horizon. A thunderstorm was coming, and Sarah was delighted. She decided to make a cup of tea, settle in, and watch the storm through her large front window. Depositing her keys, phone, and the phone she’d found on the table near the door, she headed into the kitchen. Monty did not share Sarah’s enthusiasm, and he cowered beneath the kitchen table as she filled the kettle.

           Before she could turn the burner on, she was startled by the sudden, loud ringing of the found phone, a tinny jingle meant to invoke thoughts of a tropical paradise. Sarah rushed over to the phone, reaching it just as the tune was beginning to repeat itself. The caller ID displayed the number, but it wasn’t anyone saved in the phone’s contacts. 

           She swiped to answer and held the phone up to her ear, unsure of what to say. 

           “Hello?” she ventured. 

           “Hello?” a male voice repeated.

           “Hi, is this the owner of this phone?” she asked, feeling stupid.

           “No, this is her friend. Who’s this?”

           “I found her phone while I was out walking my dog. It was on the side of Lafayette.”

           “Lafayette?”

           “Yes, Lafayette Street.”

           “Ah. Okay, excellent. She’ll be so happy that you found it. Where are you?”

           Something about the urgency of the question disturbed Sarah in a subtle way.

           “I’m at home. You said you’re her friend?”

           “Yeah, Brian.”

           She thought of the number appearing on the caller ID. Not a name, a number. She frowned. “Well, I was going to drop the phone off at the police station tomorrow. You could meet me there. Or she could.”

           “I’m sorry, that won’t work. She really needs it back tonight.”

           “Well ... ” 

           “Listen, if you live anywhere near Lafayette, I’m not that far from there. I was just about to pick up a pizza, I could swing by and grab the phone too. Lisa would really appreciate it, she’s been freaking out without it. I’ve been calling it periodically to see if anyone would pick up.”

           Lisa. The owner’s name was Lisa, and she’d lost her phone. Sarah thought of how she would feel if her own phone was missing. She would be frantic; her entire life was contained within it.

           “Yeah, okay, you can swing by.”

           “Excellent, what’s your address?”

           Sarah hesitated, but, determined to do the right thing, she plunged ahead.

           “1811 South Willow.”

           “Okay, I’ll be there soon.”

           The call terminated in silence and Sarah looked at the phone. The woman, Lisa, smiled back at her.

●

Her tea steeping, Sarah sank into a chair and gazed through the front window, watching as the wind rose. The phone sat on the end table beside her. Its presence was sapping her calm, tempering her otherwise pleasant evening. She found herself eager to be rid of it. Between her feet, Monty hid with his head under her chair. She stroked his back with her bare foot and smiled. 

           “It’s going to be okay, buddy.”

           The first raindrops began to patter against the window. 

           Sarah drummed her fingers on the arm of her chair. At this point, she was certain that Brian would call again or knock on her door the moment she got comfortable. She grabbed her phone and started to mindlessly scroll her socials as she waited. In the blur of passing images, something unsettling caught her eye. She scrolled back up to it and found herself looking at an image of a now familiar face. It was Lisa, albeit in a different photograph. Sarah realized that she’d seen the image before, on the news earlier that day. The image was accompanied by a grim headline. 

REMAINS DISCOVERED AT COLLINS LAKE STATE PARK IDENTIFIED AS KENTWOOD WOMAN.

           Sarah looked at the picture, then reread the headline. With a blooming sense of dread, she clicked the link and began to read.

           The Fulton County Sheriff’s Office has identified the burnt remains of a woman found at Collins Lake State Park as fifty-two-year-old Mary Fenwick, of Kentwood.

           Fenwick had last been seen leaving a Halloween party at a friend’s home, and had reportedly been alone. She was not believed to be in any danger, and her family had not reported her missing. 

           Hikers visiting the park on Monday discovered the burnt remains not far from a trailhead. 

           Autopsy results determining a cause of death are still pending, but authorities are currently treating the death as a homicide. 

           “We are seeking any information that could lead us to apprehending the person or persons responsible for this heinous act,” Fulton County Sheriff Michael Tramlow stated. 

           Those with any information have been encouraged to contact the Fulton County Sheriff’s Office.

           Sarah scanned the article two more times, trying to discern what she was looking at. She snatched up the phone and looked at the wallpaper, comparing the image to that used in the article. There was no mistaking it. Unless they were twin sisters, they were the same person.

           A peal of thunder sounded, and Sarah started with a small gasp. At her feet, Monty trembled as sheets of rain whipped against the window. 

           She decided that she was freaking herself out. The phone belonged to a woman named Lisa who happened to look like the dead woman. This was a reassuring thought, but other thoughts still squirmed. The phone might belong to a recently murdered woman named Mary, and now someone lying about who the owner of the phone was wanted it. Perhaps this man, Brian, needed the phone, so he could destroy whatever evidence it might hold linking him to the murder. There had been that note of urgency in his voice.

           Sarah laughed shakily to herself. She’d watched too many true crime shows. It was all too outlandish, the sort of thing that happened on TV, not to her. She suddenly wished intently that she’d never seen the phone. 

           As she tried to dismiss her fears, they were reignited by a rapping on her front door. Monty barked and Sarah shushed him instinctively. Leaving both phones on the end table, she got up and crept to the door. She wondered if whoever was out there had seen her through the window as they approached. Hopefully the shrubs had obscured their view. 

           She bypassed the front door and instead approached the window closest to it, where she would hopefully have her best view of the front porch. Three intense knocks sounded against the door, and she flinched as each one landed. When they had subsided, she carefully lifted a slat of the blinds and peered through. 

           She could discern the shape of a person standing close to the door, just beyond the pounding rain. The angle made it impossible to see their face, though it made no difference. She’d only been expecting one visitor. Suppose she cracked the door and thrust the phone through, would he simply take it and leave? Maybe. Then it wouldn’t matter who he was or who the phone belonged to, it would be over. Unless he was a murderer. He could decide she was a liability.

           And if there was a murderer on her front porch, she needed to do something to stop him. She needed to call the police. 

           The potential for an embarrassing misunderstanding still haunted her thoughts. She had to be overreacting.

           The breezy jingle suddenly emitted from the phone, making Sarah’s blood turn to ice. She struggled with what to do. She needed more information. Maybe, if she spoke to this guy, he could clarify things. Cognizant of the front window, she crossed back to the phone and picked it up. She again considered just calling the police, but dismissed the idea as hysterical. Still, a cold sweat broke across her skin as she answered. 

           “Hello?”

           “I’m here.” 

           “Oh, okay,” she said, unsure of how to start her questioning. “I’ll be out in a minute … So, how do you know Lisa?”

           “Like I said, we’re friends.”

           To hell with being polite, she thought. If he was just an innocent friend, he’d end up getting the phone back and they’d never see each other again. She decided to jump in. 

           “If you’re her friend, why aren’t you saved in her contacts?”

           There was silence on the line, then a good-natured chuckle.

           “I don’t know. Lisa’s not real tech-savvy.”

           Sarah chewed on that answer, unsure of how to debunk it. Another thought occurred to her.

           “I’m sorry, but I have to make sure I’m giving this phone to someone who actually knows the owner. Can you tell me what the wallpaper is?”

           “The wallpaper?”

           “Yeah.”

           Silence again.

           “Look, I don’t have time for this. Lisa’s waiting for me, and the pizza’s getting cold.”

           Sarah, who was unfamiliar with conflict, felt her throat tighten and her body start to tremble. “It’s a simple thing,” she said, straining to keep a quaver out of her voice. “What’s the wallpaper?”

           “Look, I’m just her friend, I don’t know.”

           She made up her mind.

           “I’m sorry, but I don’t feel comfortable giving this phone to just anyone. Lisa can meet me at the police station tomorrow.”

           “That’s not going to work, I told you she needs it tonight.” His voice had taken on a hostile edge.

           “Well, then she can come and get it then,” Sarah said with a surety she did not feel.

           “Just give me the phone.”

           “No. Please leave,” Sarah said, her eyes locked on the door. Knowing that he lurked directly behind it frightened her.

           “Open the door.”

           “I’m going to call the police,” Sarah said, backing into the kitchen. Monty, sensing her fear, shadowed her.

           “Fine, have it your way,” he muttered. The line went dead. 

           Sarah lowered the phone, unwilling to take her eyes off the door. Her heart was hammering in her chest. Even if it was just a misunderstanding, the man’s demeanor had left her shaken. It was becoming harder to doubt her suspicions, and they filled her with terror. 

Still watching the door, she did not see the shape beyond the window. A landscaping brick crashed through the glass, shattering it completely. Sarah screamed and leapt backward, stumbling over Monty and falling to the floor. She watched in horror as the man stepped through the window. His heavy boots crunched on the broken glass as he approached her. 

           “Give it to me,” he ordered. 

           That was all it took for Sarah’s shocked mind to shudder back to life. She scrambled backward as the man stalked toward her. Kicking wildly, she screamed again as he tried to grab her. Risen to wrath at the distress of his master, Monty leapt at the man, snapping at his legs. It was just enough of a distraction for Sarah to make it to her feet. Still clinging to the dead woman’s phone, she raced toward the back door in the kitchen. Risking a final look back, she saw the man savagely kick Monty, sending him sprawling with a yelp. 

           “Stop!” she screamed, her terror now joined by rage. “Leave him alone!”

           The man turned swiftly and approached her.

           Sarah yanked open a kitchen drawer, sending the contents sliding to the front. She snatched out a steak knife and circled around the island, putting it between her and the advancing maniac. He looked at her with something like amusement and grabbed another knife from the drawer.

           “Look, I’ve got one, too.”

           Before Sarah could react, the man threw the knife at her. She leapt aside in time to avoid it, but the movement allowed the man to close the gap between them. There was flash of white light and a jolt of pain as he punched her squarely in the center of her face, knocking her to the ground and sending both the phone and the knife shooting out of her hands. As she clutched her bloodied face, the man casually bent down and scooped up the phone. 

           “Thanks for finding this, I've been looking everywhere. As soon as I saw her face on the news, I knew time was running out. I can’t believe my luck.” He laughed. “I must have somebody upstairs looking out for me.”

           He glanced toward the front, where the pouring rain was now cascading in through the broken window. The storm was still raging outside, and Sarah wondered if anybody would have heard the commotion. She’d always appreciated the thick walls of her condo before, but not now.

“Time to go,” the man said casually. He started toward her.

           Sarah began to gasp, hyperventilating with fear. “No, please, I won’t say anything. You have the phone, I won’t tell anyone, please.”

           He was shaking his head sadly as she spoke. He slipped the phone into his pocket and took a few steps forward. Screaming, she kicked at him, and he swatted her feet away. Dropping on top of her, he wrapped his hands around her throat. Sarah began to jerk spasmodically, consumed by panic. The man’s pale eyes bulged as he concentrated on ending her.

           An instinctive drive for survival led Sarah to grasp the sides of the man’s head and drive her thumbnails into his eyes as hard as she could. He doubled his grip on her throat, trying to throttle her before the pain in his eyes became too much. He started to scream and finally broke his grip, ripping her hands away from his face. She slithered free of him and, coughing violently, staggered to her feet. 

           The man was blinking rapidly, still on his knees. Sarah seized another knife from the open drawer and lunged at him. With a furious shriek she drove the knife down into his chest. He screamed, and he screamed again when she pulled it free and slammed it in a second time. He fell backward, arms wheeling, and she straddled him, plunging the knife into him again and again until the handle snapped off, leaving the blade sticking up from his chest. She fell back, panting and shaking violently, her own hand cut deeply by the knife, which had slipped in her blood-slick grasp.

           The man twitched, burbled blood, and finally grew still. Outside, the rain continued to pelt the home and thunder sounded in the distance, mournful and slow. 

           Sarah tried to stand, but she found that her legs wouldn’t obey her. Something nudged her side and she twisted away in horror. It was only Monty. She laughed then, hysterically, amid a flood of relief. The laughter subsided in sobs and she hugged the old dog, whose face was as bloody as hers. Not understanding the emotional importance of the hug, he wriggled until she let him go. As if wishing to impart gratitude at their mutual safety in his own way, Monty licked her face before settling next to her. 

           Sarah looked at the dead murderer sprawled across her kitchen floor. Her eyes then fell on the phone sticking out of his pocket. So much had happened in such a short time, simply because she’d picked it up.  

           All things considered, it had been the right thing to do.