She still didn't understand; Mr. Smith said that he wasn't going to hurt her, but what he was implying sug gested that somebody else was. She sobbed hoarsely, her vision blurred with tears.
Mr. Smith leaned forward. "The… clients who we're doing this for… they've got some real expensive tastes. 'They've got a taste for… well, let's just say they have a taste for some pretty hardcore shit."
"What are you talking about?" Lisa wailed.
"They're into extreme hardcore and snuff films," Mr. Smith said, once again indifferent. "Surely you've heard of snuff films, haven't you?"
Lisa shook her head, feeling her flesh break out in goose pimples. She had never heard of extreme hardcore or snuff films, but she instinctively felt that whatever they were, they were bad.
Mr. Smith leaned forward slightly. "Extreme bondage… S&M… surely you've heard of those, haven't you? You don't strike me as being that naive."
Lisa nodded, a shudder running through her body. She was going to be raped! Raped and tortured for some per- vert's private porno film collection. She began to sob again. "Well… yeah… but… I still don't understand… bondage… isn't that like… I thought… I thought… that was just… regular porno people doing that!"
"The clients that my associates and I are working for have tastes of a more brutal nature," Mr. Smith said, indifferently. "It's a very small circle of people, really. They gather at various intervals throughout the year in the privacy of their own homes, and buy and sell various tapes that my associates, and others, produce; mainly extreme hardcore S&M films, sometimes snuff films. Regular porno people don't associate with this stuff. You'd have to be crazy or a fool to want to appear in one of these things. Unless you're a complete sadist like Animal." Mr. Smith's features were grim. "Of course, there are some hardcore freaks-masochists-who get off on that kind of shit. Some of them appear in the hardcore S&M and torture flicks, but the others? Snuff films? Like I said, our clients were getting tired of watching the same chicks and butt boys time and time again and wanted something different-something fresh." Mr. Smith grinned slightly. "It's nothing personal, really."
"You're going to kill me," Lisa whispered, looking up at Mr. Smith with fear.
"I told you that I'm not going to kill you," Mr. Smith said. And I'm not going to hurt you. I'm supposed to take care of you to assure my associates that you are in the best physical appearance as possible for our shoot. Then when Al and the Animal get here sometime tomorrow or the next day-"
"The Animal?" Lisa said, dread suddenly filling her even more at the sound of the name.
Mr. Smith cocked his head at her. "Yes, Mrs. Miller. I was telling you the truth when I said that I wasn't going to hurt you or kill you. But your costar in the snuff film we'll be shooting… the Animal… he will."
Lisa's hands were shaking, and when she spoke her voice quivered with fear. "Please. You don't want to do this.*
"I'll be back tomorrow," Mr. Smith said. He turned and exited the room.
She found her voice and let loose with a wail. "Please let me go! Pleeeaaase!"
Her wail fell on deaf ears. Mr. Smith exited the cabin, and a moment later, amid her heavy sobs, Lisa heard him start the van up, back down the gravel path, and head down the highway.
Seven
The three nights and two days Brad Miller spent in the Ventura County slammer were the longest of his life.
Fueled by his anger over the initial road rage incident that sparked his incarceration, he got little sleep that first night, and when he found out that Lisa was missing, his nerves went on a frenzy. He continually paced the length of his cell while his mother stood by, helpless as he drove himself deeper and deeper into worry. "I don't like this, Mom, this just isn't like her, I don't like this, why aren't they doing anything!"
That first day, Frank Miller succeeded in getting ahold of Officer Chris Lansing, the patrol officer who had placed Brad in custody Friday. When he told Officer Lansing that Lisa was now missing from her motel room, with no clue as to where she could have gone, Officer Lansing grew concerned. "And Brad hasn't seen her since his arrest?"
"That's right," Frank had said. He had cornered the officer as he strolled in to begin his two-to-midnight shift. "And everybody I've talked to in this fucking building says they can't do anything about it because she can't be considered missing yet!" He spat that last sentence out with an air of contempt. "Fucking bullshit, if you ask me."
"Come with me a minute," Officer Lansing said. He led Frank through the office to a desk where a young officer with a crew cut was at a desk in front of a computer. "Can I borrow your computer for a moment, Doug?"
"Sure" Doug moved aside, and Officer Lansing sat behind the terminal.
'In my right-hand drawer there is an arrest file on a citizen's arrest by a Mr. Caleb Smith. Can you pull that for me?"
Doug retrieved the file and Officer Lansing flipped through it. He entered Mr. Smith's name and address in the system, hit a key, then waited. A moment later, a message appeared on the screen: NO MATCHING RECORDS FOUND.
'Shit' Officer Lansing retyped the information as Frank peered over his shoulder at the screen. The query returned the same message.
Officer Lansing turned to Frank.'"Ihis system hooks up with the DMV's central database. I should have gotten Mr. Smith's DMV record, which would have included any outstanding warrants or other records, but there's nothing."
Frank looked at Officer Lansing. "You saying this guy gave you a false address?"
"1'm not saying anything yet." Officer Lansing handed the file to Doug. "Run a complete check on Mr. Caleb Smith, then run a DMV check on his vehicle. When you're done, bring the printouts to me. I'll be in Ken's office." He rose from the desk and began heading toward an office at the rear of the building. "I'll have to get back to you, Mr. Miller. Will you have a seat in the waiting room for me?"
That had been the longest wait in Frank's life. When Officer Lansing came back, he was accompanied by a lieutenant. The lieutenant appeared to be his age, with salt-and-pepper hair and ruddy features. "We're sending a pair of detectives to the Days Inn now, and another to talk to your son!
Flank had risen to his feet. "Does this mean you can let him go?"
For the first time, he realized that Officer Lansing looked embarrassed. Lieutenant Young gave Officer Lansing a cursory glance, then looked back at Frank.'Un- fortunately, because your son was placed under citizen's arrest in pursuant of a felony, we can't release him until Monday morning."
"Christ!" Frank ran a hand through his thinning hair.
"We're doing everything we can to find Lisa," Lieutenant Young said, trying to muster a positive smile. "We'll find her. Don't worry."
Frank relayed all this to his son that afternoon, trying to break the news as gently as possible. Brad could only listen with a growing sense of dread; he didn't know how, but somehow Mr. Smith had something to do with this. He could feel it in his gut.
Brad's parents stayed with him at the jail until five PM. By then a search had been conducted at the motel room, and no signs of foul play had been found. Officer Lansing had remained at the station to ferry the news back to the Millers and comb through the files for any information on Mr. Smith. He broke the news shortly before five o'clock. "Something happened to her," Brad said, his voice threatening to break. "Find this Mr. Smith guy and-"