Crazed Reckoning, a Nick Spinelli Mystery

by Valerie J. Clarizio

  Shannon halted at the presence in front of her. She squinted. There was nothing visible between her and the door yet she couldn’t seem to get her feet to move forward. She edged back, bumping into Anna.

  “What’s the matter?” Anna whispered.

  “I don’t know. It just doesn’t feel right to move forward.”

  Anna grabbed Shannon’s hand. “I want to get the heck out of here,” she blurted as she scooted around Shannon and lunged for the door, attempting to tug Shannon along with her. Shannon dug her heels in.

  A crackling sound hissed as a lightning bolt flared in front of them; fog as thick as pea soup filled the suite.

  A metallic taste clung to Shannon’s tongue as if she’d just licked the floor of a machine shop. Fire ripped through her nostrils. Anna fell back onto her and they tumbled to the ground. Shannon’s mind reeled. She couldn’t see, couldn’t speak. The air drained from her lungs.

  * * * *

  Spinelli propped himself up on his elbow and used his fist to hammer his pillow in place. Why he even bothered to attempt to sleep was beyond him. Through the slit in the vertical blinds, he could see it was still dark outside. The clock read 3:00 a.m. He grabbed his phone off the nightstand for the hundredth time since he’d climbed into bed. Still no call from Shannon. His chest constricted, nearly enough to squelch his beating heart.

  Marsh’s thunderous snores reverberated through the paper-thin walls of the hotel. Spinelli wondered if Walker could hear him across the hall as well.

  Spinelli buried his head between two pillows. It didn’t help. For chrissake, would he just stop already? He flung the covers back, rolled out of bed, and stomped off to the bathroom.

  He glared at his reflection in the mirror and wondered why in the hell he’d let Shannon traipse off on this geocaching weekend without him. After all that had happened to her and around her in the past several months, he should have known better.

  Spinelli tore his gaze from the accusatory reflection. He reached over to turn on the faucet before he leaned forward, cupped his hands, and splashed his hot face with cool water. The hotel spared no heat, nearly cooking him out of his room. He turned off the water and buried his face in a towel. A faint crackling noise captured his attention. It reminded him of a Fourth of July sparkler. He looked about the tiny bathroom for the source of the noise. Within seconds, the sound disappeared. Perhaps it had come from the drain.

  He spun on his heel, flipped off the light, and stepped out of the bathroom to be greeted by a sharp sulfuric scent that left just as quickly as it came. The slight burning sensation in his nostrils substantiated the fact he hadn’t imagined the smell. His eyelids grew heavy. He welcomed the yawn that followed but not the lightheadedness that accompanied it. Perhaps he had a shot at a couple of hours of shut-eye, and he’d feel better when he woke up.

  Spinelli’s throbbing head woke him. When it ceased, he rolled over and nearly fell off the bed. How in the hell did he end up at the foot of the bed? Flipping over, he remembered he’d gone to the bathroom in the wee morning hours. His itchy nose reminded him of the strange odor as he exited the bathroom. A hint of a metallic flavor still coated his tongue.

  The pounding resumed. “Spinelli, are you up?” Walker’s muffled voice sounded through the door.

  Spinelli sat up. He glanced at the clock. It was 5:05 a.m. “Spinelli,” Walker yelled through the door again.

  “Yeah, just a second,” he replied as he slid into a pair of jeans.

  He pulled the door open to find both Walker and Marsh in the hall. “You look like death warmed over. Are you feeling okay?” Marsh asked, never one for sugar coating anything. Was that Marsh’s version of delicate? If things weren’t so grim concerning Shannon, Spinelli probably would have laughed...

  “I’m fine. I didn’t get much sleep last night. I didn’t fall asleep until after 3:00, but then I seemed to crash hard.

  “Hmm, 3:00. That was right around the time a weird crackling noise woke me up,” Walker stated.

  “You heard that too?”

  “Yeah, it fizzed in and out really quick. At first, I thought I had dreamt it, but then I smelled something acidy and then rotten eggs. It actually made my nose burn for a bit. I half expected the fire alarms to go off. I even got up and checked the hallway.”

  “And what about that awful taste?” Spinelli asked.

  Walker cocked a brow. “What taste?”

  “That metallic flavor.” Walker shook his head.

  “What in the hell are you guys talking about? I didn’t hear, smell or taste anything,” Marsh cut in.

  “Quite frankly, I’m surprised we could hear anything over you sawing down that forty-acre forest last night. For crying out loud, do you have sleep apnea or what?” Walker asked Marsh.

  “I don’t snore that loud.”

  Walker rolled his eyes before Spinelli cut off their banter. “I was in the bathroom when it happened and thought it came from the drain.”

  Walker shrugged.

  Marsh’s stomach growled nearly as loud as his snoring.

  His gaze shifted between Spinelli and Walker. “I can’t help it. I woke up starving.”

  “Well, you did work hard in the woods last night,” Walker joked.

  Marsh opened his mouth to reply but Spinelli cut him off. “I’m gonna shower quick and then I’ll meet you guys downstairs in the restaurant. Just order something for me so it’s ready when I get there. Then we can get a move on.”

  Spinelli shaved and showered, slapped on some clothes, and then headed to the hotel restaurant to meet Walker and Marsh.

  He’d just finished his short stack of pancakes and sausage when the waitress delivered not only the bill but a large sealed envelope as well.

  “What’s this about?” Spinelli asked as he took the envelope from the waitress who’d also fixed her curious gaze on the envelope.

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. Some guy just came in, pointed at you, and asked that I deliver it. Then he left.”

  All heads snapped in the direction of the doorway. Spinelli sprang to his feet and headed for the doorway, Walker, and Marsh on his heels. Other than the receptionist, the lobby was empty. They stepped into the parking lot. No movement. There didn’t appear to be any activity up or down the street either, but the slow-breaking daylight made it difficult to see very far.

  The frigid air forced them back inside the building. Spinelli stared at the envelope in his hand. His gut told him the contents weren’t good but he still needed to check.

  Spinelli opened the seal. Anguish exploded in his core and seeped through his veins as he scanned the paperwork. The grapefruit-sized lump in his throat cut off his oxygen supply. Unable to speak, he just stared at the document as Walker and Marsh’s words became muffled. The paper floated to the floor.

  Chapter Three

  Shannon’s eyes popped open to the same dark room. How in the heck did I end up back here and back in this bed? She inhaled. Her burning nostrils unleashed her most recent memory. She and Anna had snuck through the dark suite to escape whomever. She recalled the strange hiss, the bright light, and the fog. The fading metallic taste on her tongue had become part of an unpleasant routine. Shannon sighed. They’d been so close to an escape.

  It surprised her to find her wrist bound to the headboard of the bed; tied in the same manner as before. Wouldn’t her captor know she and Anna would just untie themselves like last time? It took only a moment for realization to sink into her foggy brain. The air drained from her lungs. He was watching them. The rope, meant as an inconvenience, would only slow them down if they tried to escape again.

  Shannon scanned the darkened suite for a video camera, but she could hardly make out the furniture, let alone a small camera. And fear of her captor seeing her and Anna kept her from flipping on the light.

  Shannon turned her head to the side to check on Anna. Sheer panic shot through her veins, rocking her body at the sight of the empty spot beside her. Tears flooded her eyes. It
was bad enough before when she at least had Anna. Now, to make matters worse, she was on her own. Anna, where are you? Knowing Anna would never leave her side during a time like this, she could only assume the worst.

  The urge to sob was nearly uncontrollable. Shannon swallowed hard to suppress the cries about to escape her dry throat. If her captor was watching, she didn’t want him to know she was awake. She needed time to think. What does he want from me? Maybe I should scream.

  If she had just listened to Nick, this wouldn’t be happening. He had pleaded with her not to take this trip, especially since he couldn’t accompany her. He wasn’t the begging type but, in his gut, he knew something bad would happen.

  Shannon’s pulse pounded in her ears. Why didn’t she trust his instincts? She was such a fool. What she’d give to be in his large warm bed wrapped in his strong arms, pressed against that hard-muscled body and inhaling his manly woodsy scent rather than alone and afraid in this strange bed.

  Shannon recalled the flash of concern, followed by the boyishly sad look in his charcoal eyes as she refused his plea to stay home this weekend. Tears saturated her pillow. What had she done to deserve this? After all that had gone on in the past three months, now Anna? Outside of her immediate family, all she had left was Anna and Nick. If she believed in reincarnation, surely she must have been some sort of wickedly cruel person in a previous life to deserve what had happened to her lately.

  Shannon’s mind scrambled to come up with a logical explanation for her incarceration. Who would have a reason to do such a thing to her? More importantly, what were their plans for her? Were they going to kill her, rape her? At present, they hadn’t really harmed her. Or were they really after Anna? Shannon decided to hope for the best. Maybe another team temporarily taking them out of commission so they could win the grand prize? Yeah, she and Anna would be miraculously released after the game. Even though she should be angry, Shannon sighed with relief at the thought of this best-case scenario. Then reality punched her in the gut. Her pulse quickened. If it were that simple, why wasn’t Anna with her right now? The mind is a wonderful but scary thing. It’s amazing what it can talk a person into at times.

  Shannon racked her brain, trying to come up with anyone who would do this to her. In her line of work, it wasn’t uncommon to make enemies. During her nearly four years as a social worker, she’d become the ‘caseworker of record’ for numerous families. Oh, how she hated the term ‘caseworker of record.’ It sounded so inconceivably cold and formal, especially when the attorneys used the phrase during examination on the witness stand. In her short time as a caseworker, she must have been asked the same question at least a thousand times, “Ms. O’Hara, you’ve been the caseworker of record for **insert name** for how long?” She could tell her clientele despised that question as well. Especially when the timeframe in which she worked with the family spanned over a couple of years. Such a period of time wasn’t all that uncommon, but it really looked bad for the clientele. In many cases, it meant they were not making much progress or progressing quickly enough.

  As she thought about one of the most recent times she had been asked that hateful routine question, Lamar and Chandra Clarkson came to mind. Her testimony that day had prevented the Clarkson’s from getting their children back. The Clarkson’s had been arrested for habitually dealing marijuana. Their two young children had been placed in foster care for several months prior to the hearing last December. After the school psychologist and Shannon’s testimonies, it looked evident that the Clarkson’s would not regain custody of their children. Like many other cases, Mr. Clarkson had not completed the recommended rehabilitation program, nor had the Clarkson’s made any effort to undergo the suggested counseling. Lately, Shannon couldn’t help but feel she just wasted her breath to recommend rehabilitation and counseling to the clientele. She’d find herself in court, months later, testifying on the children’s behalf instead of the parents who never seemed to take her recommendations.

  Shannon blew out an exaggerated breath. As long as she lived, she would never forget that day in the courtroom with the Clarkson’s. There had been such wrath on Lamar’s face, as she testified to recommend continued foster care for the kids. She’d been dismissed from the witness chair and headed back to her seat behind the children’s attorney. The gratified look in the children’s attorney’s eyes reassured her she’d done well on the stand.

  As she walked by the Clarkson’s court-appointed attorney, she shot him a glance. A look of contentment nestled in his eyes. Unable to help herself, she eyed the Clarksons for a split second. Lamar leaped from his chair and attacked her. As they tumbled to the ground, she hit her head on the railing behind the attorney tables. A kaleidoscope of fireworks flashed in her eyes, her teeth rattled and her head rang like church bells. ‘Rang like church bells,’ a saying passed down from her diehard Catholic grandmother to her mother, and now to her. She’d heard her mother use the phrase more than she could count, but it really seemed to fit at that point in time. What she would give right now to hear her mother’s voice recite the expression again. It had taken hours for the ringing in her head to stop and a couple of days for her headache to disappear altogether.

  Could someone like Lamar Clarkson, or one of the many others she’d crossed through the years, have done this to her? Possibly, but she couldn’t imagine they’d go through the effort of following her all the way to Door County from Milwaukee. His kind would probably just wait in a dark parking lot or march into her office and do what they wanted to her.

  Shannon huffed. She wasn’t about to wait around any longer and run these useless scenarios through her head. Screw it! “Help me, someone please help me!” Shannon yelled at the top of her lungs. Knowing her soft voice wouldn’t carry far, she gave it her best shot. About to yell again, she was startled by the creak of the adjoining door, followed by a light that suddenly illuminated the room. Her eyes quickly shifted to the door, only to catch a glimpse of a small childlike hand retreating through the crack in the doorway.

  The door remained ajar. A brief moment of silence filled the air.

  Shannon waited.

  “You’ll keep your mouth shut and stay put if you know what’s good for your friend,” an unusually high-pitched male voice commanded.

  The lump in Shannon’s throat nearly choked her. “Anna?” she squeaked inadvertently.

  “Yes, Anna. If all goes according to plan today, your friend will be released unharmed.”

  Plan, what plan?

  The door closed. The light remained on. Shannon scooted into a sitting position on the bed and pressed her back against the headboard. She pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around her quivering legs. The rope wrapped around her wrist and the bedpost pulled tautly.

  Her frightened gaze stayed fixed on the door as she debated her next move. Should she untie herself? It wouldn’t be difficult to do. Should she scream for help again? Where was Anna? Would the captors harm Anna if she didn’t cooperate with their plan? What plan?

  Shannon scanned the room. The nautical theme was not unusual for hotel décor in Door County. Her eyes examined every detail as she slowly moved her head from left to right. Her gaze landed on the sliding glass doors leading to the balcony. Could she possibly shimmy down three floors and escape? But what would happen to Anna if she tried?

  Her eyes drifted from the doors to a garment bag lying over the back of one of the small leather chairs by the corner fireplace. She didn’t remember seeing that before. Had they passed by it when they checked out the balcony earlier or did someone place it there later? Shannon’s eyes followed the length of the garment bag downward. A shoebox rested on the floor beneath it.

  She decided to take a chance and untie her wrist. With the lame way her captor had secured her, he felt confident with the threat of Anna’s well-being. Shannon would cooperate and make no further attempts to escape.

  It took a couple of minutes for Shannon to undo the knot in the rope but she managed. S
he scooted off the bed and glanced at the door between the rooms of the suite. No movement. She stood silent for a moment, just listening. No sounds.

  She kept her eyes and ears tuned to the disturbing quiet as she stepped toward the garment bag. Grasping the top of the garment bag, she lifted it as she pulled on the zipper and revealed an elegant, vintage, off-white wedding dress. Made of silk crepe, it had short cap sleeves and a high scoop neck line open to the front of the quilted triangle waistband. A plain dress, perhaps from the forties, like her grandmother, would have worn. She set the garment bag down and pulled the lid from the shoebox to find a pair of strappy, high-heeled sandals. She couldn’t picture her grandmother wearing something like that with such a dress.

  Shannon put the cover back on the box. What was this all about?

  She stepped toward the sliding glass doors and reached to slide the vertical blinds over. She’d barely touched them, enough to catch a glimpse of daylight breaking when the same high-pitched male voice from before echoed throughout the room. “Step away from the door.”

  Shannon retreated so quickly she nearly tripped, catching herself on the corner of the fireplace. Her nervous gaze searched the room for the camera and speaker. There it was, plain as day, mounted near the ceiling above the desk. How did she not see that before?

  As she moved across the room, the device moved with her. She ran her hands over her shivering arms to suppress the rising goose bumps.

  In an attempt to hide her fear from her captors, she dropped her arms to her sides and fixed her gaze on the camera. Absently, she placed her hand over her growling stomach in an attempt to ignore her hunger pains. How long ago had she last eaten anything? She and Anna had lunch before they traveled north to search for the second cache. She grew lightheaded at the thought of the finger they’d found. Placing the palm of her hand on the desk, she steadied herself.

  “Would you like something to eat?”

  Shannon shifted her eyes back to the camera. “No,” she blurted firmly before her jaw clamped shut. She’d die before she’d accept anything from him, whoever he was.