For a minute it looked like the woman had a fighting chance. She had a good six inches on Mr. Smith, and she used her height to its full advantage, throwing herself around, trying to offset the balance and throw him to the ground. But Mr. Smith managed to knee her in the kidneys and the woman went down with a muffled woof of pain, and then he had her. He brought her to the ground and, planting his knee on her back, he held her down. "Goddamnit, why did you have to barge in like that? Oh goddamn, goddamn…"
The woman had been stunned by the blow to her lower back, and tears welled up in her eyes. Mr. Smith hit her again, and the woman screamed and curled up into a ball. The sound of the scream curdled Lisa's blood. She drew herself up on the bed in a protective gesture, not even aware she was whimpering.
Mr. Smith stood up, looking anguished as he ran a hand through his thinning hair. "Oh Christ, this is a mess. Shit!" He turned to the remaining chains on the floor, and Lisa watched as he trussed the woman up with them. "Debbie, why the fuck did you have to barge in like that, huh? Why the fuck did you have to stick your nose in my fucking business?" He repeated similar mantras as he trussed her up. By the time he was finished, the pain from the two blows to Debbie's kidneys seemed to have subsided. Now all Debbie did was sob loudly. She didn't resemble the woman who had stumbled into the cabin a few minutes before. Mr. Smith had reduced her to a quivering, blubbering thing.
Mr. Smith tested her bonds. "Shit!" He turned and clomped outside. Lisa watched, breath held as she heard him rummaging around in his van. Then he returned a moment later with some rope. Mr. Smith tied Debbie up with the rope, trussing her up more securely than he had with the chain. When he was finished, he stood up and surveyed his handiwork. Debbie lay on the floor, arms tied behind her back, wrists tied together, her legs and ankles lashed together. No way was she going anywhere. "I'm sorry I have to do this, Debbie," Mr. Smith said. He looked around nervously. "You up here alone? Did Neal come with you?"
Debbie only cried.
"Fuck!" Mr. Smith stomped outside. Lisa heard him get into his van and start it. He backed it down the driveway and sped down the road.
Lisa waited, her stomach doing slow flips in her belly. If Neal was up here as well, he might be her chance to escape. That is, unless Mr. Smith didn't kill him first.
The wait for Mr. Smith to come back was torturous. Debbie cried the whole time, and shortly before Mr. Smith returned, her crying slowed down to trickles. Her eyes were puffy, and they glanced around the room, wide-eyed with terror. Lisa looked down at her. "What's your last name?"
"Martinez," Debbie said, hiccupping. 'Who are you?'
"Lisa Miller. Is Neal up here with you?"
"No" Debbie's face screwed up and she began sobbing again, heart-wrenching cries that tugged at Lisa's gut.
Mr. Smith stomped back in. He looked somewhat relieved to find Neal not at the cabin. "Is Neal coming up this weekend?" he asked the crying woman on the floor.
Debbie shook her head, trying to calm her crying down. "No… please don't hurt me!"
"I'm not going to hurt you' Mr. Smith was agitated. He bobbed back and forth on unsteady legs. "When is Neal coming up?"
"/ don't know!" Debbie cried.
"Shit" Mr. Smith ran his hand through his hair again. He looked at Lisa, then turned away and headed back outside. A minute later, he resumed his work at the window
Lisa sat on the mattress, her mind racing. Surely, whoever Neal was, he would grow worried when Debbie didn't come back, or when he couldn't reach her at her cabin. Debbie was most likely a neighbor and was acquainted with whoever Tim and Jeff were well enough to feel relaxed around them (Was Mr. Smith, Tim? Or was he Jeff7). If Neal wasn't around this weekend, how long would it take him to get worried and try looking for her?
Would he think of looking for her at Mr. Smith's cabin?
And if he did, would Mr. Smith-or worse yet, would the Animal-be here to kill him?
Lisa couldn't think of that now. To do so would be courting defeat. Neal was her only hope. Debbie lay on the floor, her crying trickled down to sniffles, and now the darkness in the room was like a permanent thing. Mr. Smith finished boarding up the window.
He trumped back inside the cabin. He looked in at the two women, his eyes darting to Debbie, then to Lisa. "I'm leaving, but I'll bring you some food. Are sandwiches okay?"
'Yeah."
"Okay." Mr. Smith disappeared, and a moment later she heard him in the kitchen.
Lisa looked down at Debbie. "Crying only wastes your energy," she said in a whisper. "We're going to need all the energy we can get, girlfriend. You better believe it if you want to get out of this."
Debbie lay on the floor, her eyes wide and staring. "Why is he doing this?"
"I'll tell you later," Lisa said. She turned away from Debbie and waited on the bed for Mr. Smith to return. Several times Debbie whispered up to ask her what was going on-why had Tim tied her up like this? Why did he attack her and tie her up? — but Lisa didn't answer her. "I'll tell you later," was all she said. "When he leaves." And then Tim-Mr. Smith to Lisa-was back with four sandwiches, a bag of potato chips, four bottles of Evian water, and several pieces of fruit. And then he was gone.
When the sound of the van's engine receded in the distance, Debbie asked Lisa again. Lisa looked down at the woman. "How well do you know Tim? And what's his last name?"
Debbie opened her mouth, dosed it. "His last name is Murray. I… I don't know him that well, I guess. I mean, we're neighbors, I see him and his friend Jeff and their other friends up here every so often, but-"
"Listen to me very carefully," Lisa said. "And try not to freak out. I know that will be hard to do. It took all of my willpower to not collapse, and if we're going to get out of this we're going to have to work together. You and me. Okay?"
Debbie nodded, her face stony. And then Lisa shuffled closer to Debbie and told her, and Debbie did freak out.
Nine
"You people are a real piece of work, do you know that?"
"Ma'am, we're doing everything we can. Now, if you'll please-"
"Please nothing. My daughter-in-law is missing, and you not only refuse to believe that, but you've been holding my son now for two days without a legitimate cause for-"
"Ma'am, we've been through this before." The officer on the other side of the desk was trying hard to remain calm, but was clearly becoming agitated the more Joan Miller kept arguing with him. "There's nothing we can do until Monday morning when Brad is arraigned. I know Officer Lansing has been helping you and your husband through this, but-"
'Tbat's enough, Officer," Frank Miller said. He grasped his wife's elbow firmly, pulling her away from the reception desk. "Come on, Joan."
"But-" Joan looked torn between wanting to leap over the desk and throttle the officer and breaking down in tears.
"It's okay. They're doing everything they can. All we can do is wait." Frank looked like he had aged ten years in the past twenty-four hours.
"Wait for what?" Joan's voice was full of anguish. The tone of it caused several people in the lobby of the sheriff's station to turn their way. "For that scum Caleb Smith to-"
"Enough!" Frank grasped his wife more firmly and led her away from the reception desk and got her outside.
Once outside, Joan turned on her husband. "Goddamn it, FYank, don't you dare do that to me again!"
"You listen to me," Frank said, holding his ground firmly. He grasped his wife's shoulders, his eyes boring into hers. "The facts are, these people are doing everything they can already. To release Brad from custody would not only be a violation of California law, it would get them in a hell of a lot of trouble. Like it or not, there's legal protocols they have to follow. As for the accusations against Caleb Smith-"