He made the drop-off quickly. Harvey was waiting for him in his silver Mercedes and Dennis handed him a brown paper bag containing the tape. “I’ll call you later this afternoon,” Harvey said, starting his car. He pulled out of the parking slot and Dennis went back to his car, feeling as if a heavy burden had been suddenly lifted from him.
The rest of the day would have gone smoothly except for one thing.
Harvey Panozzo never called him.
Dennis began to worry about it that evening as he feigned normalcy in the den. Carrie was watching the evening news. The kids were … well, who knew where the kids were this time of the evening. Dennis made a half-hearted attempt at getting his resume updated and actually visited a pornography addicts support group on the Internet. He’d been thinking about his actions all afternoon, and how they’d affected his job and his life. He was finally coming to terms that he had a problem and he had to face it, deal with it, correct it. He still didn’t want Carrie or the kids to know about it, and he hoped that keeping it away from them while secretly trying to conquer his problem would do the trick. He still had to stay away from the stuff. He hoped Harvey Panozzo didn’t call him back.
“How’d the job search go today?” Carrie asked from her spot on the sofa.
“Good,” Dennis lied, rustling the paper. “I updated my resume, made a few phone calls. I’m hoping to get at least one interview by next week.”
“Think you’ll have something by then?” Carrie looked concerned. “Our house taxes are going to be due pretty soon. With Wendy’s college tuition coming up in Fall, it’s going to be kinda tough.”
“We’ll be fine,” Dennis said. Shit, he thought. He’d completely forgotten about the goddamn taxes. Without a job to cover him, Wendy’s college tuition was in jeopardy. The money he had in the bank was already earmarked for it. The house taxes would eat all that up.
“Are you sure?” Carrie was looking at him with concern.
Dennis smiled. “We’ll be fine, honey. I promise.”
He told himself that over and over all night until he was convinced things would be fine. And they would be. He was sure of it.
* * *
Harvey called him the following morning.
“How’d you like to make some money?” Harvey asked.
Dennis was sitting at his desk in front of his computer. He had just updated his resume and printed ten copies on nice bond paper. The Los Angeles Times Employment section was spread out in front of him and he’d circled five job descriptions that appeared to match his skills and educational background. “Doing what?” he asked. He was immediately suspicious.
“Don’t worry, it’s legit.”
“I think I can find a new job on my own,” Dennis said. “Thanks for the offer of help, though.”
“I want to help,” Harvey continued. “Like I told you a few days ago, we prefer our members be professionally employed. That includes being able to network with us, allow us to help each other.”
“I don’t think I’m interested,” Dennis said. “In fact, I’ve changed my mind about the group. I no longer want to be a member.”
“You have three more tapes in your house,” Harvey said. “The police didn’t find them yesterday, but they will if they make another visit. While possession of bestiality films are only punishable by a small fine, possession of a necrophilia film will probably carry a murder charge.”
“What are you talking about?” Dennis felt his stomach drop. My God, did Harvey call the police and have them search my house? Did he get me fired from my job? If so, how?
“The film,” Harvey continued. “The one showing that guy screwing corpses. They’re murder victims, Dennis. Unsolved murders, I might add. The man in the videos is a hardcore junkie like you who’s a necrophile. Surely you don’t want your wife—your children—to know that you’re a—”
“I don’t have any such film in my safe,” Dennis stammered.
“You do now, and it’s not in your safe. It is in your study, though. When you were gone yesterday, one of our operatives broke into your home and planted it.”
Dennis felt all the spit dry up in his mouth.
“Go ahead and call the police and tell them about us if you want to,” Harvey purred. “They won’t be able to prove the group exists. The tape will have your fingerprints on it. We can arrange it so that the evidence of murder points to you. And with your … unique tastes in pornography, you could be in jail for a long time, Mr. Hillman.”
“What do you want?” Dennis felt his entire body go slack with shock. He felt totally helpless.
“All we want is your cooperation,” Harvey continued. “Your membership in the group. You’re one of us now. We’re here to help you. Stray from us, we have to risk exposure. We can’t afford that. Surely you understand our concerns for security, don’t you Mr. Hillman?”
“Y … yes,” Dennis stammered.
“I’m calling you from my cell phone. I’m parked right outside your house. I expect to see you walk out your front door in fifteen seconds. If I don’t see you, I call the police and alert them to the location of the tape.”
“Wh … why …”
“When you exit your home, you will walk to my car and enter the front passenger side,” Harvey continued. “I will take you to the job I’ve mentioned. Do you understand?”
Dennis didn’t know what to say. His eyes darted around his study, trying to find something out of place, some clue that would tell him where the tape was planted.
“Dennis?”
“Yes?”
“Do we have an understanding?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Fifteen seconds, Mr. Hillman. From the time I hang up. I’m hanging up now. I expect to see you shortly.” The line went dead.
Dennis was up and out the study in a flash. He grabbed his wallet and keys and left the house, locking it behind him, and headed down the front walkway and saw Harvey’s silver Mercedes parked at the curb across the street. He walked around the front of the vehicle, feeling the dread build inside, entered the car and sat down in the front passenger seat. Harvey started the vehicle and pulled away from the curb. “Good,” Harvey said as he drove out of the neighborhood. “I’m glad you came out.”
“Why are you doing this?” Dennis asked.
“I want to help you,” Harvey said as he piloted the Mercedes out of the neighborhood. He headed toward the 210 Freeway. “Relax. You’ll be well taken care of.”
Dennis found it hard to relax. He kept thinking, what did I get myself into? as Harvey took the 210 into the foothills of the San Gabriel mountains. Harvey’s demeanor was casual and laid back. He was dressed in casual business attire—tan slacks and a white polo shirt. The interior of the Mercedes was spotless. For the first time, Dennis wondered what Harvey did for a living.
“What do you do for a living?” Dennis asked, trying to sound casual.
“I’m in the insurance industry,” Harvey said. He kept the car at the speed limit. “I’m just a corporate drone like yourself. That’s all.”
“What’s this job you told me about?”
“You’ll see.”
Forty minutes later Harvey pulled the car up to a ranch-style house nestled in a small valley deep within the San Gabriel mountains. He turned off the engine and got out of the car. “Come, follow me,” he said.
Dennis followed, still wondering what this was about. He’d managed to get Harvey to admit that the work in question was for a fellow member who needed a database built of various hardcore pornography media. “We’re building a lending library,” Harvey had said. “It’s still in the early stages, but neither of us have the time to build something sophisticated. That’s why you’re here.”