Number 7

I listened for the beep of my car’s alarm before heading up the walk to the small house I now lived in alone. Usually, it was a nice neighborhood, but with the holiday season here robberies were on the rise. A woman a few houses down was the latest target. Her jewelry box was snagged so the chances of them returning to Oak Hurst were low, but I wasn’t ready to count them out.

I was so distracted by my thoughts as I walked towards the house that I didn’t notice the package sitting on my porch swing. It was a battered cardboard box about twelve inches long and six inches tall with a crude tape job holding it together. A scrap of paper was glued to it, ‘Chrissy’ typed on it in large block letters.

I sighed and unlocked my door, setting my gym bag and coffee cup down in front of the stairs. I went back outside to retrieve the box, noticing a man I had never seen before walking a very overweight lab. He smiled and waved in greeting. I returned the gesture, mentally photographing what he was wearing. Blue baseball cap, green t-shirt, dark jeans, white Adidas sneakers. Sunglasses. Typical. Nothing out of the ordinary. Just him.

With the box awkwardly under my arm I went back inside and locked the door. I grabbed my coffee cup from its resting place on the stairs and walked to the kitchen. It was the room with the best lighting, all the other houses in the neighborhood were set up the same way.

I pushed aside a few holiday trinkets and set the box on the table. The longer I held it, the more flimsy it became.

The first thing I noticed was that there was no address. Mine wasn’t scrawled near my name and the sender hadn’t left theirs. It simply said “Chrissy”. I snorted, fully believing it was a box full of junk I had given my now-ex-boyfriend Benjamin. I had kicked him out two weeks ago, but had been waiting to see him slinking around. We hadn’t ended on the best circumstances and I half expected him to come key my car or break a window on the house we had shared for six months before I realized how much of a deadbeat he was.

I downed the rest of my coffee and tossed the empty cup into the trash.

“Alright Benjy, whatcha got?” I tore the cheap tape off and the sides of the box fell away to reveal…I wasn’t quite sure what I was looking at, but I no longer believed the items to be from Benjamin. I had never seen them before. There was a knot of necklaces and bracelets wrapped in bubble wrap. By the empty settings, I could tell someone had removed the jewels and left behind gold and silver chains. A few charms remained as well, but nothing notable. There was a silver dish, small enough to fit in the palm of my hand, but I didn’t touch it. There were four wooden blocks, their letters facing odd angles. I could make out the “x”, “T”, “N”, and “e” easily though. There was a small black box with a blinking red light. I picked it up, noticing the compartment for batteries. I used my screwdriver to take them out and tossed all the pieces into the drunk drawer.

The only item remaining was a white envelope. Instead of my name being printed on it, there was a red number stamped. Number 7.

I stared at it, contemplating what to do. My curiosity got the better of me and I picked it up, sliding the flap open easily.

Don’t forget to lock your doors. A thief is afoot.

I read the brief note three times. My doors were locked, but now I doubted myself. With cell phone in hand I walked to the door that connected the garage to the house. It was locked. So was the front door and the back door. After kicking Benjamin out, I changed all the locks. I was the only one with a key.

I called the police and described the situation to a disgruntled man that sounded like I was wasting his time. Maybe I was, but it didn’t feel that way. I had evidence. At least I thought so.

One officer arrived, knocking on my door while he glanced around my front yard. In total, you could see four other homes from my front step. My house wasn’t secluded at all, making it an unlikely suspect for a burglary. Stranger things have happened though.

“Come in sir.”

He stepped into the house and I suddenly felt self conscious in my work out gear. I hadn’t even thought to shower or brush my tangled hair. I attended a kickboxing class that morning. I assumed he had seen worse, but that didn’t make the moment any better.

“Thank you Miss Sampson. Dispatch said you had a strange package delivered?”

I led him into the kitchen where the items were still spread on the table. He didn’t show interest until his eyes gravitated to the letter.

He read over the line, confused. “Seven? There have been twelve robberies in the past two weeks.”

I shrugged. “Weird isn’t it?”

He snapped a few pictures of the items on the table. He pointed to the blocks that clearly spelt out ‘next’. “We will station someone in the area tonight. I’ll take these in for fingerprints and see if we can figure out who left them.”

“Okay. Do you think I’m in danger at all?”

He scratched his head and pointed his pen at the array of objects. “Honestly, I don’t think so. No one else has received a box like this. It seems like a joke. Do you recognize any of the jewelry?”

“No, I haven’t noticed anything else missing either.”

In all honesty, I hadn’t actually looked in my jewelry box in over a month. I didn’t have anything of value. No family heirlooms, no gems I saved pennies for, and no gifts from prospective husbands. I had a collection of costume jewelry I had been playing with since I was sixteen.

The officer nodded and handed me his card.”Okay. I’m going to pack this up and then get out of your hair. If we find anything I will contact you immediately, but if anything further happens please call me. I can always be reached on my cell phone.”

I glanced briefly at the card, already beginning to write the event off as a fluke. The longer I thought about it, the more I believed it to be an over the top joke played by Benjamin. He wanted me scared so I would call him and beg him to come back. It wouldn’t happen. “Thank you Officer Davis.”

“Call me Will. Like I said, someone will be in the area tonight.”

I got out his way so he could bag the evidence. I imagined every item would be dusted for fingerprints and ran through the database. Wouldn’t it be funny when it came back to match Benjamin Case? He already had an extensive history with the police…

It was after the officer left that I remembered the small black box in the junk drawer. The blinking red light had made me uneasy. Without the batteries the light no longer blinked. It was a small bulb in the center of the plastic box. The box itself was relatively light without the batteries and was a perfect cube with slightly rounded corners. I didn’t know what it was, but I didn’t find it very important either.

Nothing happened that night.

Nor the next.

The police began watching other areas on the 4th night.

On the 5th night there was a robbery across town.

On the 6th I had just about forgotten about the strange box that had been on my porch, but Will Davis called as I was driving home from work to remind me.

“Miss Sampson?”

“This is her.”

“I just wanted to let you know that we checked all of the items for prints. There were none left behind.”

“The bastard wore gloves.”

“Excuse me?”

I explained my theory to him and he agreed it was highly likely that Benjamin was behind everything. He requested I call if my ex began making visits to the property and I consented.

On the 7th morning I awoke to the sound of thunder. The house shook. I grumbled and prepared for my day, heading to the gym with a scowl on my face. I didn’t notice the man with the baseball cap and sunglasses drinking coffee across the street from me. I didn’t notice the red Toyota parked just outside of our neighborhood. The rain made everything appear muted, or maybe my bad mood made it impossible to notice anything.

I returned home a few hours later, cursing the rain as I ran to my front door. I put my key in and found that I hadn’t locked it that morning. My stomach turned with uneasiness. But it was daylight. Nothing would happen during the day. Robberies only occur at night. Right?

I crept into my house, closing the door carefully behind me. The click of the latch echoed through the house like a gunshot. I held my key between my fingers like a weapon and headed towards the kitchen.

I was just passing the couch when the power went out, leaving me in complete blackness, almost complete silence. Rain crashed against the windows and thumped against the roof. I found myself holding my breath as I listened to the sounds of the house.

All was quiet until…

“Chrissy Sampson, you are number seven.”

I crouched down, squeezing between the wall and the couch as my eyes began to adjust to the darkness. My heart thumped in my chest. I didn’t recognize the voice, but it had come from upstairs. It wasn’t Benjamin. My mind circled, trying to place it.

A flashlight beam bounced down the stairs. I shrank back in my hiding spot, trying to force myself to keep my eyes open. If I didn’t see him, he didn’t exist.

But he did.

I heard his feet hit the tile at the bottom of the stairs. The flashlight clicked off. He didn’t want to be seen either.

My breathing was steadier than I expected, but he sounded unsure. I could hear him whispering to himself, but couldn’t make out the words.

I contemplated calling 911 but the light of my phone and the sound of dispatch would give my location away.

I was thinking too clearly for the situation, taking it one step at a time. I didn’t even question how he knew my name. I suppose it would be easy to find. Social media. My mailbox. All he had to do was look.

He passed by, going into the kitchen where I had been planning on going moments before he spoke. I knew I only had a few seconds before he started searching for me. I turned my phone to silent and sent Will Davis a text message. Snd hlp dngr.

I hoped he would understand.

I pocketed my phone again and listened to the house. He was standing in the kitchen. I heard papers moving around. Drawers opening. And then a chuckle.

“Smart.”

I wondered what he found, but didn’t move from my location. Instead I thought of possible escapes. The door was close. If I ran quick enough, I could leave.

But then I would have a stranger in my house.

And I had screwed myself by squeezing between the wall and couch. Quick movement was no longer an option.

But I had the element of surprise. He still didn’t know where I was.

“Chrissy, I know you’re here. Just come out and talk.”

He was pleading with me, as though I owed him something.

The floor in the kitchen creaked. He was coming towards me. I shifted my position, placing one leg in front of me. A plan was forming. Would it work? I didn’t know, but it was better than sitting still.

“I spent all that time sending you a gift and you won’t even say hi.”

His shadow darkened the doorway. A little closer and I would have him. He stepped forward and as he went to take his next step I thrust my leg out. My foot connected with his shin and he fell. Hard. I heard him grunt but didn’t stay to see who he was or how hurt he had become. I didn’t care.

I ran to the back door, unlocking it in a quick motion. As I yanked it open I heard him curse. He was getting to his feet.

I left the door open and ran to my front yard, screaming in the hopes of alerting one of my neighbors. They couldn’t hear me over the rain. The realization was a slap in the face. So was the fact that I left my car keys by the stairs.

I didn’t look behind me. I didn’t look around at all. I just ran for my closest neighbor. Mr. Johnson. He was always home.

My feet thumped on his porch. I didn’t bother knocking. I burst inside.

“Chrissy?”

My eyes blinked. “You have power?”

He appeared confused. “I didn’t hear you knock.”

“There’s a na. He broke into my house. I-I-I” I trailed off as the shock of the event hit me. My thoughts were no longer as clear as they had been while I hid behind the couch. I leaned against the door and twisted the lock into place.

“I’ll get you a towel.” He walked off, but I knew he wasn’t going towards the bathroom. His house was set up the same way as mine. He was heading to his phone.

I was taking my phone from my pocket to call Will just as I heard the sirens. They were on our road.

I unlocked the door and stepped outside to meet them. I could see the man, he was across the street, banging on one of my other neighbor’s doors. His head was shaved. A dark sweatshirt and blue jeans. White sneakers.

I met the car and pointed, just as the man turned to face me. Blood was running down the side of his face.

He tried to run, but the officers caught him easily. His fall in my house had impaired him slightly.

Will requested that I not go back to my house for the remainder of the night. I stayed away for a week, hiding in one of my friends’ apartments. My house was a crime scene and no longer felt like a home.

The man had worn gloves in my house, but his blood was on my floor and coffee table. It was enough to tie him to the scene of the crime. I didn’t know what his plan was, but when the police brought him into the station they found a magnet from my fridge in his pocket. The magnet was an image of Benjamin and I, a gift presented to me during a happier part of our relationship. Will said the man had planned to keep it as a trophy.

He wasn’t the burglar that had been hitting local homes. He was worse.

His name was LeRoy Tout, a serial killer that had been making his way along the West Coast. Will didn’t associate the gift box with him because other departments hadn’t reported it as part of the makeup for this particular madman. Its appearance on my porch was enough to connect him to murders that had occurred. The small black box with the red light was a tracker. His victims had presented the tracker to the police without taking the batteries out. Their caution had caused LeRoy to be patient. He waited long enough to be forgotten and then struck. He took the time to plan and take notice of their habits. He learned who they were before he destroyed them.

I had forgotten the small black box entirely. Its last known location was my home. He assumed that’s where it would stay and didn’t know I had reached out to the police. He worked quickly and attacked when he thought he was ready. The rain and thunder provided the perfect cover for him. I wouldn’t question the loss of power with a storm like that.

LeRoy didn’t expect me to fight back. Chrissy Sampson always fights back, it's who I am.

LeRoy Tout next explained how he picked his victims. I had nothing in common with the other fifteen.

The man working his case did say they understood the “7” associated with me. Sort of.

The numbers weren’t presented in any order. Each victim had received one. The order they appeared in was: 2, 6, 4, 1, 20, 15, 10, 8, 9, 3, 5, 12, 17, 24, and 13. I was 7. And I had stopped the delivery of the other boxes.