Shattered 12
Norman was jarred awake, unintentionally shaking Laney from her sleep. There was a hard, persistent pounding at the suite door.
"What's happening?" she mumbled. "Who's that?"
There were no shouts, or people running in the hall, so Norman felt that there was no reason for panic.
"Your Ms Chandler, I'll bet." he answered. "She phoned before and I refused to wake you."
It sounded silly enough to make them both smile. There were excited voices now in the hotel corridor and jiggling of the doorknob.
"If this is some kind of a joke---" Laney was no longer smiling. She switched on the light and threw back the bedcovers.
"Oh no you don't!" Norman pulled her arm gently to discourage her from getting up. "I'll go-- you're not dressed." He moved the blankets back into place over her and she leaned back playfully to kiss his nose.
"Neither are you."
There was no time to debate the point. The suite door slammed open suddenly, and people entered the room outside.
"What the hell--" Laney threw back the covers again, but Norman instinctively moved to protect her and held her back.
"Laney!" It was Ms Chandler's voice, suddenly joined by others.
"We'll handle this, Miss."
"The bedroom."
The couple stared in disbelief as the bedroom door burst open and three uniformed men charged in. Norman covered Laney quickly with his arm protectively over her.
"What the hell is going on?!" he demanded.
The men-- a security guard and 2 police officers-- stopped just inside the door. Apparently the 'endangered woman' they were looking for was alive and well, and a bit indisposed.
"Laney!"
Sandra Chandler barged in, right past the men, who were too embarrassed to say a word. Norman's eyes flashed fire-- and so did those of his paramour.
"What the hell are you doing here?" Laney snapped. "How dare you!"
"Ms O'Donnell?" The security guard spoke up. "Are you alright?"
"Of course I'm alright!!"
"This is outrageous! Is there a fire? An emergency?? Who are you people??" Norman was far more angry than embarrassed with the situation..
"Sorry, sir, m'am. We had a report of an endangered person. We were led to believe some harm had come to Ms O'Donnell."
"I'm fine-- we're BOTH fine-- now get out of here this minute!"
"Sorry to disturb you." The trio of men beat a hasty retreat, but Sandy moved to call them back.
"Wait-- you can't go! You've got to get this guy out of here!" she insisted.
"What?" Norman couldn't believe his ears, and glared at her.
"They will not!" Laney was furious. "Get out! All of you!"
"Listen to me, Laney! This guy's a murderer!" Chandler finally rushed to Laney's side of the bed, waving a handful of papers and practically shoving them in her face. "I couldn't sleep after Anne left so I went on line! And I searched for info on this childhood friend of yours--- He's a frikking murderer! He killed his own mother, Laney! And dozens more! He's dangerous--"
Laney hugged Norman's arm tight against her.
"I know about all that-- now will you please leave!"
Chandler's steam was knocked out of her for a moment. She couldn't believe Laney knew was in bed with a serial killer. Norman drew a deep breath, tore a blanket from the foot of the bed, and wrapped it around him as he climbed from the bed. Sandy gasped, but stood her ground, tossing the papers defiantly on the bed. Norman stood at the end of the bed, pointing his finger accusingly at the intruder.
"You have no right to come barging in here! And get your facts straight, Ms. Chandler! I have not killed dozens!" He felt the need to correct her, for no other reason then wounded pride. "Not that you deserve an explanation, but I was found not guilty by reason of insanity. Twenty years of hospitals--- did your research tell you that? And according to the state, the doctors and every legal standard, I'm no longer a threat to anyone!" Except possibly to someone like you! Norman did not realize his voice had grown louder until he was shouting.
"I can't believe we're having this conversation!" Laney butt in. "Sandy-- take your cavalry and get the hell out of here or so help me you'll be lucky to be answering phones at the office! And tell those men that they're this close to a lawsuit. LEAVE!!"
Sandy balked. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. The others had wisely left already, and speechless, she followed, slamming the door behind her. Norman sat on the bed, breathing heavily and trying to calm down. Just as quickly, Laney was out of bed and slipping into her robe.
"W-where are you g-going?"
"To lock the door-- IF the lock still works."
By the time she returned to the bedroom, Norman had gotten back into bed, and was laying on his side with a pillow pulled around his ears. He was rocking himself slightly, and Laney knew he was upset.
"Norman, Norman." She climbed on the bed behind him and curled arms around his waist. "It's okay-- they're all gone."
He released the pillow with one hand and patted her arms.
"That's n-not the problem." He felt frustrated to be stuttering again.
"Then what is?"
"Now you know everything. I'm s-sorry I didn't tell you all the d-details-- about M-mother---" He felt like a frightened boy suddenly, about to lose his best friend all over again.
"Norman, I didn't ask for any." She kissed the back of his neck sweetly and cuddled closer. "I don't care what Sandy found, I don't care what she says. You aren't like that anymore."
"But now it's different."
"How?"
"I was afraid to t-tell you everything right away. I couldn't deal w-with the idea that it might scare you away. I d-didn't mean to lie--" Even as he spoke the words he felt ashamed and disheartened.
"You didn't. And know what I think?"
"What?"
"You are a prime candidate for the spaghetti monster. You're being silly. And I love you. Can you deal with that?"
He relaxed a bit and rolled onto his back, looking at her with searching dark eyes. She was smiling, and he believed he'd never seen anything so beautiful in his life. She wasn't teasing and more importantly, she wasn't afraid.
When he hugged her, it was like he'd never let go.
Connie was tired, and her feet were killing her. Her shift lasted two hours longer than it should have, thanks to paperwork and new admissions. All she wanted was to get home and go to bed. It seemed of secondary importance now, that Norman still wasn't home.
Three o'clock and she was climbing into bed. A quick glance at the answering machine showed no calls-- except for another hang up at 11. She hardly had a chance to lay down when the phone began ringing again.
She flicked on the light and saw Mrs. Harrison's number on the ID screen. What in the world was that woman doing up at that hour, calling her? Mrs. Harrison was a woman in her 70s, not always pleasant to deal with, but she was one of those 'early to bed' types who couldn't even tolerate loud music after 9 pm. If she was calling at 3 am, it had to be an emergency.
"Hello? Mrs. Harrison?"
Silence.
"Hello?"
The line clicked and went dead. A fearful chill swept her; another hang up, and this time from the house next door. Connie scrambled out of bed and quickly found her robe. Something was terribly wrong, and Norman wasn't there for advice or help. She picked up the phone again, thinking perhaps she should call the woman back, in case she'd had a fall, or needed help. She dialed the number with shaky hands, and listened to it ring without response. Now it became prime importance to check her own front door, and call for help.
She felt a bit foolish, explaining to the police dispatcher that she was worried about the old woman who lived next door, and why. The listener was patient, though not especially alarmed. He promised to have a squad car come by and check on Mrs. Harrison. Fortunately it was a slow night and a patrol was in the area.
Unfortunately, they found the woman's front door wide open, and a house of horrors inside.
Mrs. Harrison had been brutally murdered, partially disemboweled, and her throat cut so savagely that she was nearly decapitated. Police cars, ambulances and even reporters were crowding the street within moments of the police radio call for immediate assistance. The area was roped off with yellow tape, and dazed neighbors wandered from their homes, clutching their collars, and ordering their children back inside.
Connie was in shock. She ran to the toilet, threw up, and felt a sudden crippling pain in her gut. The baby.
Someone was knocking frantically at the front door, and she staggered into the living room holding her belly. The local police were well aware of her husband's past, and under the circumstances felt the need to ascertain his immediate whereabouts.
Connie couldn't make it across the room. She stumbled and fell, calling out to the patrolmen on her porch. She heard the door crack and splinter as the room spun around her and she lost consciousness.