Chapter 2

Discovery

I was trying to make sense of how we ended up here, outside Reno, when we had been staying in Las Vegas, more than four hundred miles away. Then came a knock at the door. Karen, realizing she was still naked, panicked and darted into the bathroom, locking the door behind her. That left me to deal with whoever was on the other side of the door.

I nervously walked to the door, making sure I at least had my pants on, and peered through the peephole. A rather bored-looking woman, about my age, stood outside, waiting for someone to answer. I opened the door, unaware that it hadn’t been locked. The woman, seeing me through the partially opened door, smiled up at me and__ handed me a pink folder labeled Mystique Marriage Chapel Memories Album.

She began speaking as if she were following a memorized script—which I imagine she was: “Here is your Memories Album, which is part of your marriage package. It includes your marriage certificate, a copy of your marriage license, and your wedding photo collection—copies of which are available for a minimal fee. If you hurry, you’ll also receive a complimentary voucher for you and your bride to enjoy your first breakfast together at the Mystique Travel Center Breakfast Buffet. Additionally, we’ve included a $25 casino chip voucher for your enjoyment. Enjoy your honeymoon stay at the Mystique Travel Plaza, and please come again.”

After handing me the pink folder, she turned and left the way she had come in. I shut the door, stunned by what she had said. If she was to be believed, Karen Olsen and I were married—husband and wife. Karen was going to go completely off the Richter scale when she found out. I could hardly wait to tell her.

I closed and locked the room door, picked up Karen’s clothes, walked over to the bathroom door, and knocked. “Karen, you’ll want to come out here—this involves you.”

She opened the door and glared at me as I handed her the clothes and said, “What?”

I lifted the pink folder, ensuring the label was visible to her. Karen’s eyes scanned the text, and in an instant, her face drained of color before shifting to a sickly green. Without a word, she bolted to the bathroom and retched. I couldn’t tell if it was the hangover or the meaning behind the label that sent her running. Either way, I wasn’t feeling great myself.

“Karen, please come out so we can talk. We’ve got a mess on our hands, but I don’t think either of us is to blame. If we don’t figure this out, we’ll have an even bigger problem in twelve hours—our flight home. We need a plan,” I said, keeping my voice steady, hoping she’d step out of the bathroom.

Karen emerged from the bathroom, still looking green, and sat on the edge of the bed, close to the door.

I sat down beside her, not too close, so as not to make her more anxious than she already was. She still hadn’t gotten dressed, and I didn’t want to deal with a hysterical woman. I opened the folder and started with the first piece of paper on top. It was a certificate, skillfully written in elegant calligraphy, proclaiming that Karen Olson and I, William Freytag, were now legally married in the state of Nevada. It also stated that yesterday was the official date of our marriage.

Seeing the document caused Karen to burst into tears and glare at me.

I saw the look she gave me and responded, “It wasn’t my idea to get married. My only reason for coming to Las Vegas was to have a cheap spring break and enjoy myself. Someone else is to blame, and I have no idea who it is. When I find out, they will regret their stupidity.”

The next item in the stack was a photocopy of the marriage license application. It bore the proper seals, ribbons, and signatures to make it official. The names of the witnesses looked familiar, but I couldn’t quite place them. Maybe, once the fuzziness from my hangover faded, I’d be able to identify them.

I pulled out the next item from the collection inside the folder, and suddenly, things began to make sense. Someone had thought they were playing the ultimate practical joke. But it wasn’t just a prank—it was cruel, deliberate, and meant to hurt.

I wasn’t the main victim, just collateral damage. The wedding photos told the real story. In them, the bride and groom—Karen and I—stared blankly with glassy eyes, as if drugged. Familiar faces surrounded us, but the scene was anything but ordinary. The picture showed us before the ceremony, with the officiant barely able to stand, held up by the best man and maid of honor.

Only, in this twisted version, Michael Stanley was holding me up, while the best friend cheerleader propped up Karen. The rest of the photos showed us posed like lifeless rag dolls, manipulated into position by a laughing Michael and cheerleader.

Upon seeing the pictures, Karen began to cry and curled into me. I didn’t know what else to do except wrap my arm around her and offer what little comfort I could. I wasn’t the true victim of this cruel prank—just a prop—but I was hurt all the same.

We could have sat on the bed and had a mutual cry, but we had more immediate needs. Our top priority was to get back to Las Vegas in time to check out and catch our flight home. I considered our options, but for each of us to make it back on time, all but one were slim to none.

We could have rented a car and driven eight hours to get back in time. However, that wasn’t practical because we were under 25. Car rental agencies generally don’t rent to people our age, and even if they did, the fees would be more than we could afford.

If we tried to hitchhike, there was no guarantee we would get there on time—if at all. I ruled out that option immediately.

That left us with two options: traveling by bus or flying. I found the room’s phone book and looked up the bus company’s phone number. When I called, I got information about the bus route and fare from Reno to Las Vegas. Fortunately, the bus stop was located right at the complex where we were staying—I guess you could say the Mystique Travel Plaza also served as a bus station. The only problem was that the bus ride would take twelve hours, and the next one wasn’t scheduled to leave for another four hours. So, I had to rule out bus travel.

The only logical choice, then, was to fly. I found three different regional carriers that covered the route and would get us to Las Vegas in plenty of time to catch our flight home. The only trouble was finding a ride from the Mystique to Reno International Airport.

I left Karen to get dressed, staring at the items in the folder, while I went to the main part of the complex to find a ride to the airport. Fate had played enough tricks on us that day and finally decided to smile on us. I discovered that the complex had a shuttle to the airport, and I reserved two seats for Karen and myself on the next available run.

When I got back to the room, I told Karen what I had arranged. It seemed to make her smile and ease some of the frustration she had felt earlier. I was getting hungry and thought she might be too, so I asked.

“Wife, we have a voucher for a complimentary breakfast buffet. Would you care to join me at the Mystique Breakfast Buffet?” I asked, smiling.

Karen looked up at me, ready to bite my head off, but suddenly, her expression changed. She smiled and said, ‘Gladly, my husband. We can eat while I plot my revenge against my former fiancé and best friend.’”

A wicked glint flashed in Karen’s eyes, sending a chill down my spine. Whatever she was scheming, I was just relieved I wasn’t her target. I had no doubt that whoever faced her wrath was in for a world of pain.

The complimentary buffet wasn’t too bad. I’d rate it higher than any chain restaurant buffet I’d tried before. It was good enough that I went back for a third helping and ate until I thought I would burst. Karen went back twice, sticking mostly to fruits, whole wheat rolls, and a small serving of scrambled eggs.