by Nancy CoCo
“Now, you, Allie,” he said and threw me over his shoulder. It was hard and pushed my diaphragm, making me say, “Ouf!” He moved his head at the sound, and I stayed as limp as I could. “Are you awake?”
I just moaned and let my arms dangle.
He didn’t say another word, just took me down the stairs into his basement. He went across it and through a small door into what once must have been a coal bin. I closed my eyes as he flopped me down on the concrete floor. It was so difficult not to wince at the pain it caused. I let my head roll to the side.
“Troublemakers, all of you,” he muttered. “I should have known. I should have known. Well, now you’ve gone and done it. Stay here and rot for all I care. Ain’t nobody going to find you.”
I heard him kick someone, who cried out. Was that Jenn? As tempting as it was, I had to keep my eyes closed and my jaw slack until he left. I felt him hovering over me for a moment. His breathing was uneven.
“This is all you guys’ fault,” he shouted. “Now you have to pay.”
Then he stormed out and slammed the door. I held my breath and counted to ten. Then I heard him moving some heavy things in front of the door. Like a dresser or a cabinet? It struck me then that we were well and truly stuck. Even if the police did manage to search his basement, they wouldn’t see us in the coal shoot behind a set of shelves.
I opened my eyes. It was pitch-black. I stood. “Who’s here?”
I heard mumbling, as if mouths were gagged. Reaching into my pocket, I wrapped my hand around my phone and breathed a sigh of relief. I hit the flashlight app on the phone and looked around.
There were no windows and no lights. I suppose that wouldn’t be needed. After all, the basement light was all you needed to see inside the bin. I shone my flashlight toward where the mumbles came from. “Jenn!” I raced to my friend and pulled the gag from her face.
“Allie,” she whispered hoarsely. “Shane is hurt . . . bad.”
I went over to where Shane sat and took note of the pool of blood that was mirrored in the blood on his shirt. I took off his gag, but he didn’t speak. He barely opened his eyes.
Pulling off my shirt, I folded it up and pressed it against his wound. That made him cry out.
“Untie me,” Jenn said. “Then I can take care of him.”
“Hang on, I don’t want to lose this pressure.” I untied Shane’s hands and pulled one of his hands over my shirt. “Press on this,” I ordered in a voice strong enough that it got a response from him. He pressed. Not hard, because he was weak, but he pressed.
Then I raced back to Jenn and untied her. She stood and rubbed her wrists. “I’ve been trying to get out of those ties for hours.” She rushed over to Shane and pressed down on my shirt until he moaned. “Sorry, baby,” she said. “I’ve got to stop the blood.”
I ran my light around the room and saw Liz unconscious on the floor a few feet away. I went over and checked for a pulse. She was breathing and had a heartbeat, although it was slow.
“What happened?” I asked Jenn as I tried to get cell service. The coal shoot was lined with some sort of metal.
“He broke in through the window when we were working,” Jenn said. “He stabbed Shane once before I struggled with him. But he got the best of me. Then he thought he heard someone coming, so he pushed us out the back door. I have a few scraps and cuts from him pushing us around, but Shane fell in the grass, making the stab wound worse. He got us down here and had me tie up Shane, and then he tied me up.
“I rolled closer to Shane, but I wasn’t able to stop the bleeding. He’s lost a lot of blood,” she said. “I don’t know if he’s going to make it.”
“Don’t worry,” I said. “I managed to hang on to my phone, but there’s no signal down here.”
“What time is it? Does anyone know where you are?”
“It was seven p.m. when we left the McMurphy. I texted Frances where we were going,” I said. “We came to ask Mike if he had any idea what painter might have been stalking Becky. I had no idea it was him. I trusted him. He was in and out of the McMurphy and did a great job painting it. I recommended him to Harry.”
“Then Frances should come knocking soon, right?” Jenn asked.
“Rex will,” I said. “But Mike can send them on a wild-goose chase. It could be days before they figure it out.”
“Shane doesn’t have days,” Jenn said, tears running down her cheeks.
“Let me think,” I said. I went over and tried the door. It was locked and didn’t budge. Then I ran my flashlight over each wall, looking for anything—a crack, anything. That’s when I found it, hidden behind a bunch of shelves. The coal chute. In the early twentieth century some furnaces ran on coal. The delivery man would open the shoot and pour the coal into the bin, then send a bill. Once the coal was in the basement, the homeowners would shovel it into their furnace.
I pushed and pulled, but the shelves wouldn’t budge. Were they that heavy or were they bolted to the floor? I shone my light down. Oh no, they were bolted. I didn’t have time to try to remove the bolts, so I climbed the shelves and squeezed myself through them to the coal chute. I tried to open it, but it was meant to be opened from the outside. My fingers couldn’t pull it open.
That was when I remembered the spoon in my shoe. Would that work? I pulled out the spoon and tried wedging the handle into the cracks of the chute. It started to budge. But every time I tried to catch it with my fingers, it slammed shut.
At every slam I would turn off my flashlight and we would hold our breath, praying Mike didn’t hear it and come down. On the third try I managed to get my fingers in the crack as it tried to spring closed. Pain radiated down my arms. Tears burst from my eyes, but I could smell fresh air. Once I could push through the pain, I was able to pull the chute open. It opened about six inches—enough for coal to slide down, but not enough for a person to climb through. I wedged myself far enough up the shelves to get my elbows to hold the trapdoor open. Then I texted Rex and Frances. Mike is the killer. We are trapped in his basement in the coal shoot behind some furniture. Come quick. Shane is losing blood.
It took a while, but finally the phone said the text had been delivered. I didn’t want to call in case Mike heard me talking. I hid my phone in the chute and tried to close it carefully, but it snapped shut. I held my breath and listened. There were big footsteps marching across the house toward the basement door.
“He’s coming,” I said and scrambled down the shelves, tearing the skin on my knees and elbows. It was difficult because my fingers still hurt so much. It was pitch-black in the coal room. I stumbled over Liz on my way to the door. What was I going to do? Hit him if he walked in? With what? My smashed hands? When I was able to look around the room I’d seen there was nothing in it but us and the shelves. There was nothing to hit him with. The basement door slammed and I heard him coming down the stairs. I stumbled toward the door. I was either going to jump on his back and try to hurt him or distract him by jumping out at him from the front. I waited with the cold metal wall at my back.
“What’s going on in there?” he called, not yet moving the things he’d put in front of the door. “No one can hear you but me. So just be quiet, or I’ll come in there and make sure you’re quiet.” Then it sounded like he cocked a rifle.
Jenn and I held our breath. He hit or kicked whatever he put against the door so hard I jumped. I didn’t think my adrenaline could get any worse, but I felt like a trapped rabbit who wanted nothing to do but run. Except there was nowhere to run. I had to trust that the text messages went through or, at the very least, Rex could follow my phone’s GPS to the coal chute.
Mike hit whatever it was again for good measure and I covered my mouth to keep from crying out. I was shaking from head to toe. Then silence came and after what seemed like forever, he walked back up the stairs and closed the door.
I crawled my way, bumbling through the dark, to Jenn. She was shaking, too.
“What if they don’t get the text?”
she asked. I could hear tears in her voice. “What if Shane dies?”
“He’s not going to die,” I said and hugged her. “Do you need me to relieve you for a while?”
“No,” she said. “I’m not letting him go. You hear me, Shane? I’m not letting you go.”
After what felt like days but could have been hours, Liz started to wake up. I crawled to her and wrapped my arms around her to help her sit up.
“What’s going on? Where am I?” she asked. “It’s so dark.”
“You were drugged,” I said. “It was in the tea.”
“Mike?” she asked.
“Yes. Jenn and Shane are here, too. We’re in the coal room of Mike’s house.”
“How long have I been out?” she asked. “I have such a headache.”
“I have no idea how long,” I said.
“I hear breathing. Who else is here?”
“Jenn and Shane,” I repeated. Liz seemed so groggy. “Mike brought them here. He’s the painter who was stalking Becky.”
“Mike’s the killer?” Liz sounded confused. “But he’s a nice guy. He’s lived his whole life on the island.”
Suddenly, she straightened away from me. “How do we get out of here? Do you have your phone? Where’s my phone?”
“He took your phone,” I said. “After I saw you start to crash, I pretended to be drugged, too. He took both our phones and keys.”
“That means he has the keys to the McMurphy,” Jenn said. “That’s not good.”
“I don’t think he’s going to hurt anyone else,” I said.
“How do we get out?” She stood and stumbled to find a wall.
“We have to wait until someone finds us,” I said. “I managed to get my phone back when he was bringing you down here. I sent a text and Frances knows we were coming here. We have to wait.”
“Why didn’t you call?” Her tone was slightly elevated as panic set in.
“Because there is no cell reception,” I said.
“Then how did you text?”
I rubbed my forehead and explained everything I had done. She crumpled to the floor. “I feel like I’m going to be sick.”
“Oh please don’t,” Jenn said. “Or I will, too, and how are we going to clean it up?”
“Come here,” I said and crawled to her. “You’re still processing the drug. Let me hug you. Body heat might help.”
After a while she stopped shivering. My own trembling slowed down. Jenn was quietly sobbing.
Then we heard a scrape and a screech. “Hello?” came a whisper from the coal shoot.
“Hello,” I shouted and stood. “We’re here!”
“Help us! Jenn shouted
“Hurry!” Liz said.
The chute banged closed and everything went silent. Then, suddenly, we heard the door upstairs crash open, and what sounded like a herd of men in boots came rushing in.
I stumbled toward the door and began pounding on it. “We’re here! We’re here!”
Liz was beside me beating the door, while Jenn joined us as we yelled and made a fuss.
We could hear them storm down the basement stairs, shouting. Then whatever was pushed in front of the doorway was dragged away.
“Stand away from the door,” someone shouted. I grabbed Liz and hunkered down near Shane and Jenn and we covered our heads with our hands.
BAM! There was a loud crash and dust and smoke. Policemen in tactical gear rushed in, shouting. Someone turned on a light. It was total chaos and confusion. I raised my hands and so did Liz. Jenn refused to give up her pressure on Shane’s wound.
When everything cleared, Rex was there. Tears filled my eyes as he hugged me. I hugged him back and then pulled away. “It’s Shane—he’s been stabbed and bleeding for hours,” I cried.
Rex pushed past me. My ears were ringing from the blast. Someone took my arm and led me out of the coal room. They passed me to someone else who guided me up the stairs. Another person was at the top of the steps and they guided me out into the yard. Another person put a blanket around my shoulders. I watched as George Marron and Jacob Psik rushed into the house with their medical kits and a stretcher.
“Here,” Marcy Wentz said and handed me a steaming cup of tea. “This will help. It’s cold out here.” Marcy lived nearby and had a thermos in her hand.
“I don’t want tea,” I said. “It’s how he drugged us to get us down there.”
“Okay, then.” She took the tea away. “Can I get you something else warm? Coffee?”
“I’m fine,” I said, and then my knees gave out and I sat down hard.
“I’m sure you are,” she said. “Come on,” She pulled me up. “Let’s go over to where the EMT is looking at Liz.”
I walked with Marcy until she handed me over to an EMT I didn’t know. Her name tag read Smithfield. I sat down on the ambulance bay beside Liz.
“She was drugged,” I said. “I don’t know what with, but Mike roofied Shane last week before killing Christopher Harris.”
“We’re going to take blood and urine samples when we get her to the clinic,” EMT Smithfield said. She was an older woman with short gray hair and wide shoulders. “You, too.”
“I only sipped the tea once,” I said. “I think I’m okay.”
“Right,” she said and bundled us both up in the ambulance. “As soon as Rex releases you, we’ll go to the clinic and have them check you out.”
She took my blood pressure and gave me a side eye. “It’s very high,” she said. “I’m going to want you to take a few breaths for me.”
I did and she listened to my heart and lungs.
Rex showed up at the ambulance, and in the distance I could see George and Jacob carrying Shane on a stretcher. Jenn was beside them, trembling and covered in blood.
“Is he going to live?” I asked with tears welling up in my eyes.
“He lost a lot of blood,” Rex said. “They’re going to life-flight him to Cheboygan. He needs surgery and intensive care.”
“Did you find Mike?” Liz asked.
Rex frowned. “He wasn’t here when we got here.”
“So he’s still on the loose?” I felt my eyes widen. “That’s . . .”
“Not ideal,” Rex said. “But we have people scouring the island for him. He won’t get away.”
“That’s eight miles of coastland. What if he has a boat?” I said, my voice rising, on the edge of panic.
“Let me worry about that,” he said firmly. “Smithfield, take them to the clinic and get them checked out. Officer Bedichek will ride with you. I’ve got officers at the clinic. He won’t get near you again.”
A young officer with the name tag Bedichek climbed into the ambulance. He was about six foot tall and built like a brick wall. It was reassuring to know he stood between us and Mike. Rex closed the ambulance doors and pounded on them twice, and we pulled away from the crime scene. My thoughts raced as I tried to figure out where Mike might be and prayed that everyone at the McMurphy stayed locked down tight.
Chapter 18
The police recovered my cell phone and it to me at the clinic, where Liz and I were given IV drips of saline and carefully monitored for any lasting effects. The staff had orders to keep us until Rex said otherwise.
Our protection detail was stationed outside our room with a gun.
“Well, that didn’t go as planned,” Liz said.
“But now you know what it feels like to be roofied,” I said. “It will make a good article for the paper.”
She ran a hand over her curly hair and winced. “He dropped me hard. There’s a knot on the back of my head the size of a goose egg.”
“They took you away for a CT scan,” I said. “Did they say if you had a concussion?”
“They haven’t said yet,” she said. “But I have a splitting headache.”
The nurse came into the room. “Here’s an ice pack for your head,” she said and handed it to Liz. “Looks like you have a mild a concussion.” She checked Liz’s IV and then moved
to check mine. “You two ladies are pretty bruised up.”
Dr. Prost came into the room with X-rays in his hand. He held them up for me to see. “Looks like you broke all four of your fingers on your right hand. The breaks are near the tips, so we’ll get those splinted. Do you need anything for the pain?”
“I can’t feel any pain,” I said. “They’re numb and swollen.”
“That’s probably a good thing,” he said. “I’ll splint your fingers. You’re not going to be able to use that hand for about six weeks. Then come back for another X-ray to see how they are healing.”
“So much for fudge making,” I said with a sigh. “It really is something you can’t do with only one hand.”
“How’s the search for an assistant coming?” Liz asked.
“I hired twins to intern over the summer,” I said. “They’ll be here next week.”
“So, see, all is not lost,” Liz said.
I tried to text from my phone with the new splits. I could barely hold it with my splinted right hand and texting with my left thumb was more hunt and peck.
“Who are you trying to text?” Liz asked.
“My parents. I need to let them know we’re all right, and then Frances and Douglas to keep all the friends and family corralled until we find Mike,” I said.
“Let me do it,” she said and winced when she reached for my phone.
“You’ve got a concussion,” I protested.
“And you are broken,” she countered. “Let me use my hands.” She took the phone and texted my parents. Hi Mom and Dad, I’m fine just need a splint on my right hand. I’ll be home soon. Please keep everyone safe. She showed it to me.
“Thanks,” I said. “I heard they are flying Jenn’s parents to Cheboygan to keep her company while Shane is in surgery.”
“So everyone at the McMurphy knows what happened?”
“I’m not sure,” I said. “My parents were keeping Jenn’s parents company in my apartment, away from the rest. They might have gone down the back stairs instead of through the hotel.”
