"Accusations my ass! That bastard has done something with Lisa! Don't you see it?" Joan's voice practically screeched. Her hair was in disarray, her eyes puffy from lack of sleep.
It was late Sunday afternoon, over a day and a half since arriving to keep Lisa company for the weekend while they tried to get Brad out of jail. In that time the situation had grown from bad to worse. The sketch of Caleb Smith had been put over the wire and so far there had been no word. The police were searching for the van and it hadn't turned up. Their lawyer friend, Billy Grecko, had called at the hotel room this morning, and when confronted with Lisa's disappearance told them he was going to put in a call to the Federal Bureau of Investigation. He knew an agent there whom he was on good standing with, and he was sure he could convince him to get a missing-persons investigation started, at least give the Ventura County Sheriff a good kick in the ass to get going quicker. Meanwhile, Brad was still sitting in a cell, getting by with little sleep and food. The more the hours passed with no word on Lisa, the more frantic he was becoming behind bars.
"They are accusations right now,' Frank said, his voice firm. "Mind you, I have just as strong a feeling as you have that he has something to do with all this. The only thing we have going for us right now is the fact that this Caleb Smith guy doesn't appear to be who he is. If it wasn't for that… if they had actually found him and discovered he has a strong alibi, we wouldn't have a leg to stand on.'
Joan was crying now. She sank into her husband's arms and he held her, paying no heed to those who were coming in and out of the sheriff's station casting them curious looks. Joan hadn't cried. like this in years-hell, Frank had never seen her cry like this before. He just hoped his strength didn't sap away nearly as fast as hers did. He was now the rock that held them together.
"Why is this happening to us?" Joan sobbed against Frank's chest. "Why?"
"I don't know, honey," Frank murmured, holding his wife close. "I don't know."
They remained that way for a while, and Joan calmed down. Finally, she broke away from him and wiped her eyes with the back of her hands. "Look at me. Blubbering like an idiot."
"It's okay. You needed that cry. It's been long overdue."
Joan looked at her husband; she looked lost. "I'm sorry. I've been trying to hold it all together. It's just.. " She threw up her hands in despair.
"It's been too much. I know."
"I'm sorry that I caused such a big scene in there," Joan said. "1 don't want to cause any trouble for them. I know they're only trying to help us"
"I'm sure they realize you're upset. I think we both know what it feels like to be an officer now. to feel helpless and bound by the law against doing what you feel in your gut is right."
Joan nodded. She reached into her purse for a tissue and wiped her nose with it. "What do we do now?" She put the tissue back into her purse.
"Let's go back inside and tell Gary where we'll be for the rest of the night." Officer Gary Fraser was the officer Joan had just yelled at; since Officer Lansing had gone off duty late last night, Fraser had been their main contact at the station. "'Then we'll go see Brad. We'll tell him that he'll be out tomorrow morning. Billy should be at his hotel by now, and he may even have word on getting an investigation going on finding Lisa. Then the only thing we can do is go to our room and wait until tomorrow."
Joan sighed. 'omorrow. That seems like such a long time from now"
"1 know." Frank put his arm around Joan's shoulders. "I know."
They walked back to the station together.
Ten
On the morning of Brad Miller's arraignment, his parents followed Billy Grecko in his silver Mercedes as it sped down Interstate 5 toward Ventura. Visible three cars ahead of the Mercedes was a white van with a Ventura County Sheriff's logo on its side. Joan and Frank caught a brief glimpse of Brad as he was led to the van, and when he saw them he waved. Joan and Frank waved back. Brad tried to smile, but it looked forced. He looked tired and defeated.
In Judge Kurt Plummer's chambers, the bailiff escorted Brad to the defendant table. When the judge got the papers that were filed on the charges, he cast a glance out at the court. "Case 498736, people of California versus Brad Miller.' His eyes found Brad's, locked in on him. Are you Mr. Miller?"
"Yes, Your Honor; Brad answered. For some reason, the judge reminded Brad of the actor Ossie Davis; his voice was deep and commanding, his graying hair giving him a dignified appearance.
"And do you have counsel?"
Billy Grecko rose from his seat at the defense table. "I represent Mr. Miller, Your Honor."
"And your name?"
"William Grecko, Your honor."
Judge Plummer looked over the paperwork, his eyes magnified from behind the thick glasses he wore. He scowled. "Tis is a citizen's arrest.' He looked across at the prosecution table as an African-American man in a dark suit and a power tie stood up. "What is the nature of this case, counselor?"
"The County of Ventura would like to decline to file charges against Mr. Miller at this time, Your Honor," the lawyer for the DA said.
"On what grounds?"
"Lack of evidence, Your Honor."
"And you wasted my fifteen minutes this morning just to drag this young man into my courtroom for that? I should fine you, Mr. Carr."
"I'm sorry, Your Honor."
Judge Plummer pounded his gavel. "Case against Mr. Brad Miller dismissed, by request of the prosecution"
Five minutes later, Brad was walking briskly out of the Ventura County courthouse, his parents and William Grecko trailing him. His eyes were wide with fear. "We've got to find Lisa!"
"Brad!"
He stopped and turned around as his parents and William Grecko caught up with him. William Grecko was panting, sweat dotting his forehead. He smelled faintly of rum.
"What? We can't fuck around. It's been, like, three days-"
"Brad" Billy was suddenly in front of him. He took Brad by the shoulders, his eyes locked with his. "Listen to me very carefully.'
Brad's eyes suddenly went wide with fright. "What happened? You found. her! Please tell me you found her-"
Billy paused, his eyes flicking from Rank to Joan, then back to Brad. He looked nervous. "Brad, let me explain this to — you."
"Will you just tell me what's going on!" Brad's voice cracked. Joan almost broke down at the sight of her son.
"Son, there's not much to go on," Frank said. He looked nervous and scared, and he traded a glance with Billy, who stepped back from Brad. Brad turned to look at his father. "Billy has a friend with the Bureau. He was able to get a couple of detectives over at the hotel and.. "
— Mey couldn't find anything," Billy finished. He looked dejected. "They talked to all the employees at the motel. Nobody saw or heard anything. There's no sign of a struggle in the room. Your car is still in the parking lot, your luggage is still in the trunk, but Lisa's stuff… her purse and suitcase… they're gone-"
"What do you mean there's no sign of a struggle?" Brad cried.
"'The police have been unable to find Caleb Smith anywhere," Bill continued. "The Bureau ran a list of aliases and checked them all out against the composite that was done back at the station. Neither man they came up with was Smith. It's almost like he just vanished into thin air."
"You've got to be kidding!" Brad cried, his hands going up to his face. He looked absolutely panic-stricken.
"I'm trying to push this down the pipe as fast as I can, but my friend at the Bureau says that we need more to go on," Billy said, and now he did look defeated. It was in his eyes, his posture, the way his shoulders slumped. It seemed to permeate the air around him, much like the smell of rum that was seeping out of his pores. "We have nothing at the motel, no reasonable cause for suspicion on Caleb Smith, whoever he may be… we have no witnesses, no-"