My works

“Balloon-o-gram, for the patient.” A tall, disheveled clown entered the room.

“Why look at this, Miss Spencer, someone sent you flowers and balloons. I wonder who it could be?”

Who indeed, Spencer wondered.

Dottie clapped her hands and all but giggled. “Must be from Max. Not too many other folks can know that you’re here, right?”

The way she and the sheriff parted, Spencer doubted he’d go to all that trouble to send her anything other than maybe a warrant for her arrest. The only thing that had kept her from his jail so far was her anonymity, and now that he knew her name…

“For you.” The clown handed her the bundle of different colored daisies. His gloved hand pressed to her breast and if she wasn’t mistaken, he made a predatory rumble in the back of his throat.

An odd scent tickled her nose and sparked a germ of familiarity. Mingled with the floral fragrance though, Spencer couldn’t pull it forward. Instead, she focused on the clown. White face paint stuck in clumps to his beard stubble. The wrinkled outfit hung in spots and clung too tight in others. The mis-sized outfit must be uncomfortable to wear for any length of time.

His blood-shot, red-rimmed eyes never left hers. Again, a hint of recognition teased her mind.
But the odd get up…

“Here let me take this for you.” Dottie scooped up the flowers. “I’ll put them in some water for you.” She headed for the door. “Oh here’s the card. ‘Spencer Donovan, I missed you. An old friend.’ Ha. Aren’t we silly? This whole time we thought Spencer was your last name.” Dottie shook her head. “Such an odd first name. But I kinda like it. It flows more than you might realize it would as a last name…” her voice trailed off as she stepped through the door.

Last name?

A ripple of fear tickled her spine. “Who are you?”

“I’m wounded. You don’t remember me, Spence?” He released the balloons and let them flutter to the ceiling then he yanked the florescent green wig off his head before he reached over to twist the lock on the door. “Eddie sent me to find you.”

“Carl?” The man had been locked up the last she’d heard, just before she and Harvey took off. He’d had seen the inside of the jail as much as any second year police officer.

He stalked closer to the bed. “In the flesh.”

“Oh God.”

On more than one occasion, he’d threatened to come after her and Harvey, only stopped by the short and odd rein that Eddie held on him.

“Where are they?” He slammed his hands down on the mattress and jarred her.

“I d-don’t know.” Spencer kicked at the blankets on her legs, tried to free herself as she smashed the call button on the handrail. “You better get out of here, Carl.”

“Oh yeah, what are you gonna do girl?”

“Yes, hun?” the nurses’ station buzzed.

The woman’s voice slowed him. Spencer jumped from the bed. It took a moment for her equilibrium to calm then she hurried to the window.

“Did you need something, hun?” The nurse’s voice crackled over the room’s intercom.

Out the window, the parking lot beckoned. But damn, she didn’t think she could smash the window and escape fast enough. She needed help. “Call the sheriff, please. Tell him…” Could she trust him? Did she have a choice? “…tell him Eddie found me and I need help right away.”

“Miss Spencer?”

“Do it dammit.”

“The sheriff?” Carl moved around the end of the bed, cornered her by the window. “You think some Podunk redneck’s gonna help you?” He lunged at her and grabbed the front of her gown. “You can’t run from Eddie. He will always find you.” He released her, but before she could so much as blink, his thick hand cracked across her face.

The room titled. Tears crept down her cheek and cooled the heat of her skin. Bile rose up in her throat and warred with the warm, coppery liquid that filled her mouth.

“I’m through playing with you.”

Spencer spit at him.

Carl wiped his face with a multi-colored glove from the costume then seized a handful of her hair. “You better tell me where they are.”

A heavy knock rattled the door. “Spencer?”

“Tell me, now bitch.”

“Go to hell, Carl.” She groped around the table next to the bed. Her hand lit on the phone and she smashed it into his head.

He lost his grip and she bolted across the room. The glass window shattered behind her as she threw open the lock and Max rushed through the door.

“You okay? Did he hurt you?” When she shook her head, he took a moment to look over her then ran to the window. “Damn, he’s out in the lot.” He pressed the something strapped to his shoulder and for the first time Spencer realized he was in uniform.

“Virgil, get a car over to the hospital to look for a clown.”

A trickle of laughter peeled through the mike. “Come again, Sheriff?”

“You heard me. Man dressed like Bozo, running toward the highway. Consider him armed and dangerous.”

All the mirth vanished as the reply, “Yes sir,” came through.

Max then turned and grabbed Spencer’s hand. “You’re coming with me.”

posted by Denise McDonald  # 1/05/2006 12:30:00 PM