“You shouldn’t have climbed on the ledge,” I admonished while tearing off the top of the tissue box. “It was too dangerous.”
“It wasn’t a problem,” he replied, grabbing the phone.
“What are you doing?”
“Calling 9-1-1.”
“No. I can handle this. If they come, they’ll kill the spiders.”
“But, Sara—”
“Put down the phone,” I snapped and glared at him. Then remembered I needed to stay calm.
“Okay,” he relented, placing it back in its cradle. His face creased with concern. “If you didn’t want my help, why did you call?”
“In case I develop any of Nancy’s symptoms.”
“Can I call 9-1-1 then?”
“Yes.” The tissues on my legs were full of spiders. Making sure they were fully enveloped, I slowly picked up one corner of the box and carefully placed the tissue inside it. “Sorry I got mad. I know you’re worried about my safety, but I want to catch them. If they’re the same kind that bit Nancy, it might help toward solving the case.”
“Catching one would be enough. Let me call room maintenance. They’ll have some kind of poison to take care of the rest.”
“No. I want to capture all of them.” I continued gathering the spider-saturated tissues and putting them in the box.
He stared at my legs, rubbed his chin, and swallowed hard. “Is there anything I can do?”
“See if you can find a container in the bathroom that can hold spiders.” I put more spiders wrapped in tissues into the box until it was almost full. Then I saw Brett coming out of the bathroom with an empty shampoo bottle. “How do you think we’re going to get them in there?”
He had a sheepish grin on his face. “Hadn’t thought about that.”
“Can you carefully take this and put it in the bathtub?” I held out the tissue box. “Make sure the bathtub plug is closed. I don’t want them going down the drain. Then take a wet washcloth and wipe the sides of the tub. That might prevent them from climbing out. After that, can you see if there are any tissue boxes in the cabinet under the sink?”
“Yeah,” he replied, gingerly taking the box. He walked slowly to the bathroom with his arm outstretched and held the spider-filled box as far away from his body as possible.
I felt calmer. If any of the spiders had bitten me, I didn’t exhibit any symptoms yet. I was sure they didn’t get in my bed by accident. There were too many. They must have been planted. How and by whom? Crussetts? I just couldn’t believe they’d go to this much trouble. Why not just shoot me? Unless it was because they wanted something first.
Brett came back carrying one box. “There weren’t any more.” He placed it on the bed next to me.
Searching for something else that could be used as a container, I scanned the room. “My duffle bag. Can you empty it and bring it over here?”
He nodded and headed toward the dresser as I tore off the top of the other tissue box and emptied it. Putting down the bag, Brett gazed at my legs. “How can you stay so calm with all those spiders crawling on you?”
“My parents were arachnologists, so I’m used to spiders. I think they’re beautiful, misunderstood creatures. They are actually very gentle and fragile. People are just afraid of them because they have so many legs. Their webs are a survival mechanism which I’ve found unique and enthralling since my earliest childhood memory. Spiders are fascinating, and there’s nothing else like them on earth. It’s weird people can be scared of spiders and not butterflies or ladybugs. Sure, they can bite you, but only if they’re scared. More people have been hurt and killed by other people than spiders.”
He cocked his head to the side as a look of dismay briefly flashed on his face.
I could tell he didn’t share my viewpoint. Hardly anyone did. I continued gathering up the spiders until I couldn’t see anymore. Brett carried the box and duffle bag into the bathroom. I raised my legs, moved to the edge of the bed, and stood up. Glancing around, I spotted a few stragglers on the floor. I laid tissues in their paths and collected them.
“It looks like this is all of them.” I handed the tissues to Brett, and he put them in the bathtub.
I slipped on my robe and went into the bathroom. I wanted to check and make sure none of the spiders had crawled out of the tub while Brett searched under the bed.
The bottom of the bathtub held the filled tissue boxes and my duffle bag. I couldn’t see any spiders climbing up the sides. In fact, looking at the containers, I couldn’t see any spiders at all. I picked up a box, held it over the sink, and closed the stopper. Then I pulled out a tissue and shook it. No spiders. I pulled out another one. No spiders. I continued pulling them out until the box was empty. Then I emptied the other one and took several tissues out of the duffle bag. “When you put the containers in the bathtub, did you see any spiders crawling up the sides of the tub?”
“No.”
I dumped out the bag, looked around the corners of the bathroom, under the sink, in the drawers, and cabinet.
“The spiders are gone,” I said, feeling bewildered. “What could’ve happened to them?”
Brett came into the bathroom. “They can’t all be gone. There were too many.” His eyes darted around the room. He looked at the floor and raised his feet cautiously, checking under each foot.
I stared at the empty boxes. “They’re gone.”
He picked up a few tissues lying in the sink and shook them. He looked at me and shrugged his shoulders. “Where did they go?”
Bending over the tub, I checked the plug. It was securely in place. Then I noticed the overflow drain. “They must have crawled out here.” I pointed to it and instantly felt sad. “They probably all drowned.”
A blood-curdling scream rang out. I hurried to the hallway door and swung it open. Several guests were peering out their doors.
Down the hall, a blond-haired, stout man wearing only a pair of pajama bottoms emerged from his room. “Help! Spiders are all over our bed. My wife’s afraid to move.”
I ran toward him followed by Brett and some of the other hotel guests. When we reached his room, his wife’s eyes were wide open and perspiration was streaming down her face. She wasn’t moving. I didn’t see any spiders on the bed.
Brett picked up the hotel phone standing on the desk. “I’m calling 9-1-1.”
The stout man shook his wife. “Shelley, talk to me,” he pleaded. “Say something.”
Brett finished the call and grabbed my hand. “Let’s get out of here. We can’t do anything for her.”
I agreed. I didn’t want to be involved in another investigation. We hurried back to my room as a crowd gathered in the hall.
“At least now we know what happened to the spiders,” he said, closing the door.
“How do you think they got to their room?”
“I haven’t got a clue. Let me see your legs.”
I sat down, lifted up my robe, and saw over a dozen red spots below my knees.
He ran his hands over them. “You’ve been bitten. How do you feel?”
“My legs don’t hurt or itch—nothing.” I wiggled my ankles and moved my hands over my shins. I felt small bumps. They didn’t hurt when I touched them. Then I saw my toenails had turned a reddish-purple color. I looked at my fingernails. They were the same color. I shuddered. “What’s wrong with my nails?”
Brett held my hand and stared at my fingernails. His eyes dropped to my toenails. “I don’t know.”
I ran my fingers over my nails. “They don’t hurt. Maybe I’m having some kind of reaction to the spider venom, just not like Nancy’s.”
He moved his thumb over each nail. “They’re smooth. They feel normal.” His brows drew together. “Are you feeling okay?”
“Yes.”
“You must be immune. Maybe the discoloration of your nails has nothing to do with the spiders. Let’s wait and see how they look tomorrow. Now, I think we should both leave this hotel. A friend at work, Rex, is leaving for an
assignment in Texas. He’s heard about Nancy Stewart’s death and said I could stay at his place while he’s gone. His house has five bedrooms. Why don’t we both stay there?”
I hesitated wondering if it was a good idea to stay there with him. I didn’t want him to think our relationship could go beyond friendship.
“Sara, you’d have your own bedroom. We wouldn’t share.”
“Okay. Just until I find an apartment.” I wasn’t sure how long I’d remain in Billings, so I no longer planned on looking for an apartment. I didn’t want to tell Brett about that.
“Do you want to stay in my room tonight?”
“Yes. In case I develop any of Nancy’s symptoms, I wouldn’t be able to call you or unlock the door.”
As we went toward Brett’s room, I saw a gurney being rolled down the hall by two paramedics. The vision hit me. I stopped and stared as my spine stiffened. I should have been the one strapped down and being wheeled out. The spiders had been in my room first. Staying in the Towne Hotel was getting more dangerous. Two victims. Something was definitely going on, but what?
Brett took my arm. “Sara?”
I turned and looked at him. “We can’t stay here any longer. We have to get out now.”
“It’s late. I haven’t seen any spiders in my room. I’ve sprayed around the windows and the baseboards. You’ll be safe there for tonight.” He wrapped his arm around my shoulder. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”
Since it was after midnight, I reluctantly agreed, “This time I’ll sleep on the sofa.”
“No, that’s where I’ll sleep. You take the bed.” Then he grinned. “Unless, of course, I can sleep with you,” he said in a joking tone.
I shook my head. “I’ll sleep in the bed—alone.”
The room was dark when I awoke feeling nauseous. Without turning on any lights, I staggered toward the bathroom and tripped on a shoe. The lights flicked on.
“What’s wrong?” Brett asked, moving toward me.
“I don’t feel well.” I turned on the bathroom light, closed the door and bent over the toilet. After heaving up everything in my stomach, the room swayed as I tried to stand. My legs buckled and I collapsed on the floor.
“Can I get you anything?” Brett said loudly through the door.
“Just let me sleep,” I mumbled as I pushed my hands under my head.
“Maybe it’s from the spiders. Let me take you to the hospital.”
“No...Please...Just give me time.”
“I’m coming in.” Brett pushed the door open. He took a washcloth, soaked it and wiped my face. “Can I carry you back to bed?”
“I better stay here,” I said, softly. Then my stomach churned. Holding onto the toilet, I pulled myself up to a kneeling position and threw up yellow fluid. The retching continued with the liquid flowing into the toilet until I had no more to give. My whole body ached as the vomiting turned into dry heaves.
“What can I do?” Brett asked.
“Nothing.” I gasped for air.
He sat on the floor next to me until I released my grip on the toilet bowl and lowered my head to the floor. He stood, soaked the washcloth again, and wiped my face. Then he went into the other room and came back with a pillow. He eased it under my head and laid a towel on top of me.
“Thank you,” I whispered, closing my eyes.
When I stirred, my hand touched a cold, hard object. Opening my eyes, I discovered I was lying on the bathroom floor and remembered vomiting last night. I held onto the rim of the bathtub, forced myself up to a sitting position and saw Brett sleeping on the bedroom floor next to the door. Clutching the edge of the sink, I rose and splashed water on my face.
“How are you feeling?” he asked, standing up.
“Oh, so much better. It must have been something I ate.”
“You were pretty sick last night. Why don’t you go back to bed?”
“No. Whatever it was, it’s gone.” I picked up the pillow, walked out of the bathroom with it, and looked at the clock on the nightstand. It said 6:35 a.m. “I need to get ready for work.”
“Don’t you think you should take it easy today?”
“I feel fine.”
“Let me see your fingernails.” Brett held up my hand. “The discoloration is gone.”
Casting my eyes over my nails and down to my toenails, I breathed easier. If the reddish-purple color and being sick were reactions to the spider venom, they had cleared up quickly.
As Brett and I walked out of the elevator, Lieutenant Barnes and Sergeant Harmon stepped in. We politely smiled at each other while the elevator door closed. I felt relieved they didn’t mention last night’s incident.
“Miss Jones and Mr. Daborel,” Ralph said from behind the check-in desk. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to move both of you to other rooms. The exterminators are coming around noon. They’ll be working on the top four floors. Did you hear what happened last night?”
“Yes,” Brett replied. “We saw the commotion in the hall and asked one of the guests. She said a hotel guest had been bitten by a spider. Do you know her condition?”
“Lieutenant Barnes said the ambulance broke down on the way to the hospital,” Ralph began with raised brows, “and she was transferred to another ambulance. Her husband went with her in the other ambulance. It never made it to the hospital. Both of them are missing. We’ve never had any problems in the hotel before. We did have a guest who died from being mauled by an animal. That didn’t happen in the hotel.”
“When was that?” I asked.
“A month or two ago.”
“I read about an animal attack in the newspaper right after I moved to Billings. A woman who was wanted by the police in Oklahoma.”
Ralph nodded. “That was her. We were happy the hotel wasn’t mentioned. The reporter just said she was staying in Montana, hiding from the law.”
“Did the police ever figure out what type of animal attacked her?” I glanced at Brett who was looking down at the floor. Maybe he felt uncomfortable talking about things like this.
“No,” Ralph replied. “None of the tests they performed were conclusive. One lab blamed the other lab for sterilizing all the potential evidence. Based on all the scratches on her body, the police thought it was a mountain lion. Sergeant Harmon said Nancy Stewart’s body was covered with scratches. They’re speculating that maybe her body was left behind the Alta Bar and the same animal—”
“Ralph,” Brett interrupted. “I don’t think you should discuss the condition of Nancy Stewart’s body with Miss Jones.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, Miss Jones.”
“Don’t be,” I said. “I asked you the questions.”
“Even if the animal attack didn’t take place at the hotel, it was still hard to deal with since she was staying here. We helped make arrangements to ship her body and packed all of her stuff. This is worse. We have a guest and a visitor bitten by spiders in the hotel. We’ve even made national news.”
“Wha—what did you say?” I stuttered as a cold chill washed over me and I felt a lump in my throat.
“With three people missing after spider bites, Billings has made national news. It’s on all the stations.”
“Miss Jones and I will be moving out,” Brett said. “We’ll be staying at a friend’s place.”
“I don’t blame you,” Ralph remarked.
Brett took my hand as we walked away from the counter. “You look pale. Are you still feeling okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. Just hungry.”
A television hung high in every corner of the coffee shop. We watched as we ate breakfast and saw Barnes being interviewed. He didn’t say anything I didn’t already know. Then several pictures of the Towne Hotel and the hospital appeared on the screen. Fear shot through my body when I saw a picture of myself.
“This is Miss Sara Jones leaving the police station,” the reporter explained. “She was with the first victim, Nancy Stewart, when she was bitten and reported her disappearance to
Lieutenant Barnes.”
Trying not to show any emotion, I took a few shallow breaths as a wave of panic swirled up my spine. This was what I feared might happen. Too many were bitten and missing for Billings not to make the national news. I had hoped my name wouldn’t be mentioned and worse, my picture. I couldn’t stay here any longer even if I hated leaving Brett. I didn’t want him involved in my problems. He would be no match for the Crussett family.
“What time do you want to check out and go to Rex’s place?” he asked. “I can take off work whenever you’re ready.”
“There’s a report sitting on my desk that needs to be finished, so I have to work for a few hours. I could be ready to leave around 11:30,” I lied.
After I left the hotel and walked one block, I turned and went back. From my room, I called the accounting office and told them I had a family emergency and needed to go to California for a few days. I didn’t want them to know I wouldn’t be back in case the police tried reaching me there. Then I packed and put my cell phone in my purse. I wanted to call Brett later and tell him I was okay; otherwise, he might think something had happened to me.
Getting on the elevator, I wondered if I would ever find a home where I wouldn’t fear pursuit. It seemed like I was closing another chapter of my life.
“We’ll miss you around here,” Ralph said as I handed him my key.
“The office isn’t that far away. I’ll come by and visit sometime.”
“That would be nice.” He gave me my final bill. “Will Mr. Daborel be checking out soon?”
“Probably not until around eleven.” I took money out of my wallet and placed it on the counter to settle my account.
“Can you leave a forwarding address?”
“I don’t know it. Let me give you my office number.” I wrote down the number for him.
“Thank you, Miss Jones. Do you want help with your luggage?”
“No, thanks, I can manage. Bye for now, Ralph.” I held onto the handle of my suitcase and headed to the exit.
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