"It is."
The cop had nodded, his features apologetic. "I explained to Mr. Smith the full consequences that could happen should the outcome be found in your favor. I explained that he would be fully opening himself up to a civil suit, and despite that, he wanted to proceed. Between you and me, I think the guy has a screw loose."
"I think he did this because he was zooming along at a hundred miles an hour," Lisa had said in a hushed whisper. She had been facing the officer, but her eyes were fixed on Mr. Smith's back as he bent over the paperwork at the counter. "That's why Brad didn't see him in the lane, and it also explains why he was suddenly there right on us. He probably got pissed off because he had to slow down to avoid hitting us, and I'm sure it didn't make matters any better when Brad slowed down as we descended the hill. Brad got back into the slow lane, but he followed us, right on our tail!
The officer had nodded, looking across at Mr. Smith. `I think that might be a safe assessment'
There had been nothing left for her to do at the substation. They wouldn't even let her see Brad, but the officer did promise to relay a message to him. She would be checking in at the Days Inn and would be placing a call to his parents in Orange County, as well as his friend Billy. She would also try contacting the DA, or a local judge, to see what she could do in speeding the arraignment process up. If she couldn't get the wheels grinding tonight, she would cancel their hotel reservations in Cambria and remain in town until Monday morning. In fact, she would be waiting at the substation bright and early Monday morning when the paddy wagon showed up to transport him to the Ventura County Courthouse. She would be in court for the arraignment, hopefully with their lawyer. And the minute he was out they were going to have a little talk, the three of them, about filing a lawsuit against Mr. Smith.
She had left the substation and driven to the Days Inn five blocks east. There was a Denny's on the comer, which she supposed was where dinner would be eaten tonight. She had checked in and called his parents. Luckily, they had been home. Brad's father, Frank, was an executive at Farrar & Sorts, an investment firm, and the cushiony salary and thirty years with the company had left him and Joan, Brad's mother, pretty well off. To devote more time to her art, where she excelled in watercolor, Joan had been able to take early retirement as a junior high school teacher after slugging it out for twenty years. Due to his position at Farrar and his years with the company, Frank had plenty of flex and vacation time. They had been very upset and alarmed by what happened. "Do you want us to come up?" Joan asked.
"Yeah," Lisa had said, sitting on the bed, twirling the telephone cord between her fingers. She would feel better if Brad's parents were here. She wouldn't feel so alone.
Joan asked if she would be okay by herself tonight, and Lisa said she thought she would. *We'll be up in the morning, then," Joan had said. "Between ten and eleven.'
Lisa glanced at the clock on the nightstand. It was now closing in on six PM. Her stomach rumbled. She hadn't eaten a thing since this morning and she was hungry. She stood up and began rummaging in her purse. The cop that had pulled them over-he had finally introduced himself as Officer Chris Lansing-said that Brad would be fine for the weekend. He was in his own cell, and he would be served three meals a day. Lisa's heart went out to Brad, who was a good man. He surely didn't deserve to have this happen to him, but at least he had his own cell and the jail itself was empty. "If we get anybody else for the weekend, they'll have their own cell. Don't worry, Mrs. Miller, he'll be fine."
She was reflecting on what a gentleman Officer Lansing had become the more he learned about what really happened, when her thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door.
She whirled to the door, her heart leaping slightly in her chest. That couldn't be Joan and Frank, not this early. Even if they had changed their minds about coming up tonight, it would still take them three hours or more to get up here from Huntington Beach. She went to the door and peered through the peephole. Nothing.
She opened the door and peeked out, and that's when the door slammed back violently and hit her above the left eye.
She fell back and hit the wall as the door slammed open. Her mind was spinning, trying to track what was happening, and then he was looming over her, his beard scruffy in his grin. "Thought you were rid of me, huh, bitch?" Mr. Smith said. Then he swung one hard, callused fist down onto her head and Lisa saw stars, then blackness.
Four
The next thing she was aware of was her head hurting.
Lisa came awake gradually, as if swimming up from the bottom of a pool. The darkness turned to gray, then a murky color punctuated by lights and muffled sounds. The lights grew brighter, but everything was blurry. A shadow loomed over her and hung there; she was frightened, thinking the shadow was going to descend and take her down into darkness again.
Then her blurred vision cleared and she blinked. She was lying on her back in the motel room's queen-sized bed. Her arms were tied behind her back, and the strain on her shoulders was what brought the pain to the surface. She shifted on the bed and then she saw him, sitting on a chair by the end table. He smiled and rose to his feet. Instinct took over and she kicked out with her feet, but she didn't get anywhere: he had tied her ankles together, too.
Mr. Smith laughed. "Now now, Mrs. Miller. No need to get antsy."
"Let me out now!" Lisa screamed. The sound of her scream was loud, even to her ears. She let loose another loud, piercing scream and tried to lunge off the bed at Mr. Smith.
Mr. Smith's cocky grinned disappeared. He swarmed over the bed, his body pinning her down as she screamed and flayed on the bed. You cocksucking motherfucker, I'm gonna kill you-"
Now now, let's not have any of that." He damped one large, meaty hand over her mouth to shut her up. Lisa clamped her teeth over the fleshy part of his thumb and bit down hard. Mr. Smith yelled and jerked back, holding his thumb. Lisa squirmed violently and tried to scream again, but managed only a slight croak. "You bitch!" He held up his bleeding hand to Lisa, his features seeming to say /can't-believe-you-bit-me!
Lisa took a deep breath and yelled at the top of her lungs. Her back arched as she lifted her upper body off the mattress. Mr. Smith fumbled in a small bag she saw on the nightstand, and he extracted a handkerchief. He picked up a small bottle resting by the bag, poured something in the handkerchief, set the bottle down, and advanced toward the bed. Lisa's eyes widened in shock, and she struggled. Mr. Smith approached her and Lisa opened her mouth to scream again, but the handkerchief was stuffed into her mouth, the wet part clamped down over her nostrils, and then she was breathing in a heavy, acidic stench and she saw stars. The room was spinning, and she barely had time to recognize the looming figure of Mr. Smith over her as her mind reeled from the scent of whatever it was he had given her, and then her last thought was Oh my God, the baby=
When she woke up again, she had a splitting headache. She tasted something in her mouth and ran her tongue along it. It was a loth rag, wedged into her mouth and tied around the back of her head. She was gagged.
The sun had dropped outside and it was darker in the room now. She lay on the bed, her heart pounding, letting her eyes grow accustomed to the dark. She heard him before she saw him, from the chair at the writing desk opposite the bed. "You're awake," he said. "You don't have to lie there and pretend to still be out. I know you're awake"
She almost let out a sob of frustration and fear. She felt tears at the back of her throat; her face felt hot and flush. She was no longer hungry, but there was an empty feeling in her belly anyway-the empty feeling of fear.
The dark shape sitting at the chair rose to its feet and walked over to the side of the bed. Lisa could barely make out Mr. Smith as he stood over her. "I had to gag you," he said, "because you were being unreasonable. There's no need to be unreasonable. It's a good thing for you nobody heard you. If somebody had heard you and come to investigate, you wouldn't have woken up, little lady. No sirree."
Lisa began to cry.
Mr. Smith leaned over her and she could make his features out more clearly through tear-blurred eyes. He was grinning. "Everything's going to be fine," he said. "You got a nice little bump on your noggin, but it's barely noticeable, which is good. We're just going to wait until it gets dark, then we're going to hit the road. That's why I had to tie you up and gag you. Once it's dark and the coast is clear, I'll move you to my van and we'll head off."
Head off to where? Her mind screamed. She tried to control her sobs, but couldn't. The tears flowed freely and her breath was harsh. Why are you doing this?
As if he had heard her silent question, he smiled: "I know you're probably wondering why I'm doing this. If it'll make you feel better, I've never done this kind of thing before-kidnapping people, that is. I'm not some psycho or some serial killer. I'm not going to hurt you!
So why are you doing this?
Mr. Smith leaned over her. "You guys presented yourself to me so perfectly. The citizen's arrest? That was just my way of getting you separated from your husband. By the time he gets out of jail Monday morning, you and I will be over the hills and far away."
Lisa felt a sudden weight of fear in her belly. Oh my God, he's going to kill me!
Mr. Smith leaned closer to her. She could smell his breath; it smelled of onions. "So your hubby gets to spend the weekend in jail-and you?" He chuckled and straightened up, rising to his full height. "You get to spend the weekend in my company. We're going to have a good time together." He walked to the window and parted the drapes, peering out at the darkness.
Lisa's heart raced. What was he going to do with her? She felt a sinking sense of dread. It wasn't just her anymore-there was the baby to think about now. She was almost paralyzed with fear at the thought of the fetus in her womb being hurt, but somehow she barreled past that. Her hands moved to and fro behind her back, testing the bonds. He had trussed her up pretty tight. It would take a miracle to untie herself, and unlike the heroes and heroines of novels, she didn't think she'd be able to free herself.
Mr. Smith turned back to her. "You might be wondering what I'm going to do to you. Like I said, Mrs. Miller, I've never done this before. I ain't no serial killer, and I ain't no rapist, either. It's just that, well.. " He shrugged. "Maybe I'll tell you later if you behave. How's that sound?"
He grinned wide again, his teeth gleaming in the darkness. "We'll leave when it gets dark. We have a good threehour drive ahead of us."
Lisa's breathing became quick and labored as Mr. Smith stepped loser to her and leaned over her prone, trussed-up form on the bed.
Five
When Joan and Frank Miller pulled into the parking lot of the Days Inn the next morning at ten-thirty, they saw the kids' Lexus parked in front of room 6. There were four other cars in the parking lot: a black Camaro, two SUVs, and an Accura Legend. Rank pulled in next to the Lexus and turned it off. "Here we are," he said.
"I wonder if she was able to talk to Brad this morning," Joan said, grabbing her purse and sliding out of the passenger seat.
"If she hasn't yet, maybe the three of us will be able to this morning," Frank said, shutting the driver's-side door and stretching his back. The three-hour drive had begun very early for them. They had been out of the house by seven o'clock.
Joan crossed over to room 6 and rapped on the door. They stood there for a moment, waiting for Lisa to answer, and then Joan knocked again. "Maybe she's in the shower," Frank suggested.
"Maybe' Joan rapped harder on the door and they waited, spending the next three minutes knocking every twenty seconds or so, trading puzzled looks. Joan put her ear to the door and frowned. "I don't hear anything."
"She couldn't have gone anywhere," Frank said, motioning to the Lexus. "Her car is still here."
"Do you think she might have walked to the police station?" Joan shaded her eyes with the flat of her hand as she gazed down Rim Road. "The police station is only five blocks that way."
Frank shrugged. "It's possible. She might be at the Denny's having breakfast, too. Why don't we take a little walk and find out?"
Their little walk took them to the Denny's, then to the Ventura County Sheriff substation. Once at the substation, they inquired at the front desk about their son. The desk clerk, a young woman with black hair carefully pinned back, consulted a computer. "He's in the jail's holding and receiving area," she said.
"Has he had any visitors this morning?" Joan asked. It had been warm this morning in Orange County, and she had dressed in a pair of white slacks and a blue blouse. It was a little chilly in Ventura, and she pulled a white sweater over her shoulders.
The clerk shook her head. "No, he hasn't. Are you family?"
"We're his parents," Frank said. "Can we see him?"
"Let me check" The clerk picked up the extension on her desk, punched a number, and got somebody else on the line. "Mr. Miller in 4D? His parents are here. Can he have visitors?" She paused. "Okay, thanks." She hung up and turned to Frank and Joan. "The jail warden will be out in a minute"
Five minutes later, a door opened and a young officer looked out. "Mr. and Mrs. Miller?"
As they followed the officer down the hall to the rear of the building where the jail was, Frank asked again if Brad had received any visitors this morning. "None," the officer said.
"Are you sure?" Joan asked. "We were thinking our daughter-in-law might be here already."
"You're the first to see Mr. Miller this morning," the officer said. He inserted a key into a large metal door and opened it, ushering them inside. "Last cell on the left. Press the buzzer outside the door when you're finished.*
'Thanks." Frank took Joan's arm and led her through the door and down the hall.
Brad was waiting for them at the front of the cell, his hands gripping the metal bars. His hair looked ruffled and there were dark circles under his eyes. He smiled when he saw them. "God, am I glad to see you guys!"
Joan went to her son and reached through the bars, grasping his hands and pulling him closer. She kissed his cheek. "We're glad to see you too, son.'
"You okay, Brad?" Frank asked, taking Brad's hand and squeezing it affectionately.
"I'm tired. I didn't get any sleep in here last night."
Joan was nervous, not just for the situation at hand, but because they hadn't seen Lisa. "Lisa hasn't been by this morning has she?"
"No," Brad said, his face strained. "I thought she would have been here by now. She called you last night, didn't she?"
"Yes, she called us last night from her room," Joan said, casting a worried glance at Flank.
"She gave us her room number last night when we talked to her," Frank said. Joan could tell her husband was trying to appear calm. "We got here fifteen minutes ago and went to her room, but she wasn't there!
Brad frowned, worry creasing his features. "Rut's weird.*
"Her car was there," Joan said, as if to reaffirm to her son that everything was okay. "Maybe we just missed her at the Denny's or something."
"Why don't I head back and see if I can find her," Frank said, looking from his wife to his son. "Maybe we did miss her."
"You do that," Joan said. "I'll stay here."
Frank nodded, gave his son a smile, and pressed the buzzer at the end of the hall. The door opened and he stepped through, pausing briefly to talk to the officer on the other side. The door closed and then it was just mother and son, alone in the jail.
Joan turned to Brad, trying to not appear so worried. "Have they been feeding you in here?"
"Yeah," Brad said, dangling his arms over the bars. "The guards are really nice. As you can see, I've got the entire block to myself." He tried to muster up a smile, but it came across as half-assed and forced.
"Dad got ahold of William last night around eleven," Joan said. "He said that most likely, from what Dad described to him regarding what happened, the judge will probably dismiss the case."
'That's what I thought," Brad said, his features worried. "The cop that arrested me said the same th
ing. He said he explained the legal ramifications to the dickhead that started this whole thing, but the guy wanted to go ahead with it."
"What a creep," Joan said, fiddling with her purse. "I hope there's some way they can arrest him for filing a false police report."
"I don't think they can do that," Brad said slowly, looking more nervous. He licked his lips. "So, Lisa wasn't at the motel room at all when you showed up?"
Joan told him the story again, telling her son that she thought Lisa might have been in the shower but she hadn't heard anything. Brad nodded. Joan reached through the bars and took her son's hands, patting them reassuringly. "We probably just missed each other," she said. "Your dad will find her."
They spent the next ten minutes talking about what had happened yesterday. Brad told her everything, starting with the lane change and Mr. Smith's van being suddenly on top of him, tailgating him all the way down the hill, to finally dropping back. Joan felt more nervous as the story spun out, and she tried to tell herself that she was overreacting when Brad was finally finished. "1'm sure everything will work out," she said. "When this is over-"
The sound of the door opening interrupted her and they both turned to the sound. Flank came down the hall alone, his features creased with worry. Joan felt a flutter in her stomach, and she heard her voice give a sharp squeak as she asked her husband, "You didn't find her?"
Frank shook his head, his dark eyes wide and scared. "I retraced my steps all the way back. Even asked the hostess at the Denny's if Lisa had been in. She hadn't been in at all, even last night. The front desk clerk at the motel says they haven't seen her since she checked in. I tried knocking on her door again, but there's still no answer."
Survivor Page 4
