"We're working on it," Lieutenant Young said. "Believe me, we want to find this guy ourselves."
"What's his story?" Frank asked. "Did you run his license plate? Was that fake too?"
Officer Lansing looked grim. Me DMV check we ran on his plate came up reported stolen six months ago. The plates belonged to a Chevy Suburban in San Diego. I didn't get a PIN number on Mr. Smith's vehicle at the time of your arrest because… well.. "
"I was the criminal yesterday, not him," Brad said, feeling the cloud of anger return.
Officer Lansing ignored the comment. "Every check we've done through the DMV has resulted in a dead end. I've got a sketch artist coming up with a composite now, and we'll put that over the bulletin by this evening. Don't worry, we'll catch him!
"What do we do till then?" Brad asked. His eyes were bloodshot and he was exhausted.
Officer Lansing sighed. His face had an empty, haunted look. 'There's only two things we can do. Wait and pray."
Eight
The sound of a car engine pulling up in the driveway woke her up.
Lisa snapped out of a light sleep, her senses alert. She heard the slam of a door and then footsteps. The sound of a door opening and then a rattling sound. Her heartbeat quickened. He's back, and this time he's with those other guys, thatAnimal and whoever else, and then they're going to start. They're going to rape me and kill me and my baby and film it and-
The footsteps sounded across the gravelly driveway and up the front walk of the cabin. She held her breath as a key was inserted in the lock of the front door, and then the door was opened and the footsteps were clicking across the hardwood floor of the cabin. "Hello?" Her heart leaped in her throat, because at first she didn't recognize the voice. Then the man said "Hello" again and recognition flooded in: It was Mr. Smith. - —
He walked into the bedroom bearing something in his arms. He bent down and set it on the floor with a clanking of metal and stood up, smiling. "How are you this fine morning?*
Lisa opened her mouth to answer, but all that came out was a dry hiss. Her throat was dry. Mr. Smith nodded. "Want some water?"
Lisa nodded. "Yes," she rasped.
"Coming right up." Mr. Smith disappeared into the kitchen and returned a moment later with a glass of water. He held the glass to her lips while Lisa sipped at it slowly. "Better?"
Lisa nodded. "Yeah "
"Good" Mr. Smith glanced down at the mattress. "I see you couldn't hold it last night."
Lisa felt the tears spring to her eyes again. The pain in her bladder had grown unbearable by late last night and she had been forced to void it. The smell and dampness that had spread under her buttocks and settled into the mattress had kept her awake the rest of the night.
"Don't worry. There's a spare mattress in the next bedroom that fits this bed frame just fine. We'll replace it. And you won't have to worry about making wee-wee in the bed anymore. I've found a solution to your problems." He picked up the thing that had made the metallic clanking sound, holding it up for her to see. It was a piece of chain.
Lisa started to cry.
Mr. Smith ignored her as he went about his work. First he attached a device on the windowsill, screwing it on with heavy-duty screws; it looked like a pulley. Then he payed out the heavy line it was attached to and fastened a metal ring to it. A piece of short, heavy chain was attached to that, and another device was attached to that. Then he drew out two pairs of handcuffs, one which he attached to her wrists, the other to her ankles. He attached a piece of chain to the thin but sturdy chain of the handcuff and ran that length of chain to the heavy pulley on the larger chain. He did the same thing to the hand cuffs attached to her ankles. When he was finished, he untied the rope that secured her ankles and wrists to the bedposts. Lisa was barely aware of what Mr. Smith was doing; she lay on the bed crying uncontrollably, hysterical in her fear.
Mr. Smith tested the strength of the chain by tugging on it. Lisa felt a sharp bite of steel in her wrists and ankles and stopped crying. Mr. Smith smiled. "There. Why don't I help you stand up now"
He helped Lisa sit up by moving her shoulders and upper body into a sitting position on the mattress. Then he helped her move her legs over the side of the bed. "Stand up now and let's see you walk." She did so, and Mr. Smith kept a close watch on her, grinning and nodding. Lisa's cries had reduced to sniffles, and she walked around the room, testing the new contraption that would keep her prisoner in this room. The shackles around her ankles were barely a foot apart and forced her to shamble along like a prison inmate. She stumbled as she tested the limits of it. Mr. Smith reached out to help her up. "Whoa, watch out there! I can't lengthen the chain on the cuffs down there. Wouldn't want you trying to kick me or Animal." "
Lisa glared at Mr. Smith but said nothing. "How far can I move in this thing?"
*Let's head to the bathroom and find out" He held his arm out, as if escorting her like a gentleman. He led her to a door she had barely noticed before that was set against the wall. He opened the door, and she saw that it was a small bathroom, complete with a tub and a sink. Lisa walked into the bathroom. "Can you sit down at the john? Let's try it"
Lisa turned around and sat her naked buttocks on the lid of the toilet. The payout of the line attached to the pulley grew taut. Mr. Smith smiled. "Wonderful! Just like I thought. You have enough line to reach the toilet, which means you probably have four feet beyond the bedroom door and that's it. I'll board up the window to keep you from smashing it and trying to escape, but then I've got you pretty well trussed up"
Lisa looked at Mr. Smith, feeling defeated and beaten. She had been doing some thinking last night and resolved herself to not even try to plead with him. He had told her last night that it wasn't personal, he was only doing this for the money. He had picked her up because she was what his unknown clients were looking for to be the star of a snuff film. She had been thinking about that last night, and while the implications of what was going to happen to her were petrifying, she had a thousand questions to ask him. She had been debating on whether to try to draw him into some sort of conversation. Part of her felt that she needed the human contact of conversation to keep from going crazy, while another part of her held the dim hope that perhaps if she evoked enough compassion in him, Mr, Smith would let her go. She seriously doubted that, but it was worth a try.
"How did you get into what you're doing?" She asked him, her voice submissive but not pleading. "You know… the whole snuff film thing." "-
Mr. Smith shrugged as he worked at the window. He had gone into the living room and come back with several five-by-twelve pieces of wood, which he proceeded to erect across the window and nail to the wall, boarding it up. "I never really got into it. It's just something I do for money."
*But you had to fall into it somehow."
Mr. Smith turned to her. "Why do you want to know?"
Lisa shrugged. "I figure as long as I'm going to… you know.-.. I might as well know more about it!
Mr. Smith turned back to the window and continued boarding it up. "I admire that. You'd rather face up to things than run away from them. I like that." "
Except for the pounding of nails as Mr. Smith boarded up the window, there was silence for a moment.
*1 was a producer for a while," he said, finishing up the window. "I produced a lot of hardcore porn back in the seventies. That's how I met Al, one of the guys you'll meet later. He's a director. He shot a bunch of films for me. I specialized in a lot of extreme hardcore S&M and bizarre shit-golden showers, fisting, bestiality, blood sports, scat films, rape films, a lot of kiddie porn-you name it. I had an audience that ate that shit up"