"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 thing. 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."
If Brad looked scared before, he looked petrified at this news. His face went pale. Joan felt light-headed with worry. She reached through the bars again and took her son's hands. "I don't like this," she said. "Maybe we should-"
"Go back to the motel and ask them to open the door for you," Brad said, his voice wavering. "Tell them what's going on, and if they won't open the door, come back here and talk to the police. In fact, ask for Officer Lansing. He's the guy who arrested me yesterday."
"I'll be right back " Flank said, turning to head back down the hall. Joan watched him go, feeling lightheaded and dizzy. Frank had looked ashen as he told them what he'd found, and as she turned back to her son she suddenly saw how Brad would look in thirty years: he would be an exact carbon-copy of his father.
"Everything's going to be okay," she said, forcing a smile and squeezing his hands through the bars.
Brad nodded, not meeting her gaze. "Yeah." But the tone of his voice suggested that he didn't believe her.
Frank had to threaten legal action if the front desk clerk didn't get off his fat ass now and accompany him with a passkey to room 6 and open the door. The clerk sighed, rolled his eyes, and moved himself off the stool behind the desk with a groan. "I'll probably get fired anyway for doing this, so let's go." He pulled the passkey to room 6 off the wall and swung around the counter. "Be right back," he called to somebody in the back room.
Frank felt his limbs grow heavy with trepidation as they approached the room. The desk clerk paused in front of the door, inserted the key, and opened the door, stepping back to let Frank pass. "Be my guest," he said.
Frank stepped into the room, the darkness seemingly sudden and final. He felt for a light switch, found it, and turned on the light. He stood at the threshold for a long time, not sure what he was seeing. He had almost forgotten about the front-desk clerk when he heard his voice behind him. "Well? Satisfied now?"
Room 6 was fine. The bed was neatly made, with no signs that it had been slept in. There was no sign of a struggle; no overturned furniture, no broken glass. Frank stepped into the room, his eyes sweeping around it. Lisa and Brad's Lexus was parked right outside the front door, but there was no sign of their luggage or any other personal belongings anywhere. He headed to the bathroom and turned on the light, inspecting the sink and countertop, the unused bathtub, the clean white towels lined up on the iron rung of the linen ring. He turned to the clerk who had followed him into the room. Are you sure you haven't seen Lisa Miller? Think!'
The clerk shrugged. "Only time I saw her was last night when she checked in.' He glanced around the room. "Are you sure she even spent the night here? Looks like she didn't even use this room last night"
Flank glared at the clerk. "What a brilliant deduction! What are you, employee of the month?"
The desk clerk's features went sullen. He shuffled on his feet nervously. "Listen, I have no idea if she was here last night. I got off at six-thirty, thirty minutes after she checked in. For all I know, she could have left right after I got off work.'
Frank turned back to the empty room. "Stay here," he said. "I'm getting the police."
*Whatever," the desk clerk said, following Frank out of the room.
Frank glanced at the Lexus as he headed outside. He peered inside the car-it looked normal, no sign of luggage anywhere. Of course, they would have put their luggage in the trunk, and he didn't have the key to open it. With a sinking sense of dread, Frank hightailed it back to the Ventura County Sheriff substation, wondering how he was going to tell his son that his wife was gone.
Six
Lisa Miller was very afraid.
She lay naked on a narrow spring mattress, her wrists and ankles tied to the bedposts, her mouth gagged. It felt like she had been trussed up like this for days, but the shrinking part of her rational mind told her that it was probably only twelve hours or more. She had long stopped crying; crying made her throat hurt and made her more tired. It also made it hard to concentrate and sapped her willpower. And if she wanted to get out of here, she was going to need all the willpower she had.
She had been so overcome with anger when Mr. Smith had barged into her room (last night?) that she hadn't even thought about what she had been planning to tell Brad this weekend. This was supposed to have been a romantic getaway. A second honeymoon of a sort, punctuated by romantic dinners, cuddling together on the bed and making love, sightseeing, and just spending quality time together. Lisa had something else she wanted to do as well; she had wanted to tell Brad that he was going to be a daddy.
The thought of her pregnancy hadn't come up when Mr. Smith came into her room; what had come up was her sudden anger, and then the instinctual fight-or-flight mode. It wasn't until Mr. Smith was getting ready to carry her outside to his van that she thought of the baby.
She had feigned unconsciousness as Mr. Smith deposited her in the back of the van. For a time she must have passed out, because the next thing she remembered they were moving. She had been blindfolded, but she could sense that Mr. Smith was somewhere in the front driving. She had lain on the floor in the back, trying to calm herself down. The more agitated she became, the more her head hurt. Her mouth was dry, and the sweet, almost pleasant-smelling liquid he had knocked her out with was still in her nostrils. He had trussed her up more tightly this time, securing her wrists together tighter than before. Likewise, her legs were tightly bound together, as were her ankles.
But she wasn't gagged.
Lisa had waited until she felt calm and her throat was well moistened before she ventured communication. "Where are we going?"