The officer had nodded, looking across at Mr. Smith. `I think that might be a safe assessment'
There had been nothing left for her to do at the substation. They wouldn't even let her see Brad, but the officer did promise to relay a message to him. She would be checking in at the Days Inn and would be placing a call to his parents in Orange County, as well as his friend Billy. She would also try contacting the DA, or a local judge, to see what she could do in speeding the arraignment process up. If she couldn't get the wheels grinding tonight, she would cancel their hotel reservations in Cambria and remain in town until Monday morning. In fact, she would be waiting at the substation bright and early Monday morning when the paddy wagon showed up to transport him to the Ventura County Courthouse. She would be in court for the arraignment, hopefully with their lawyer. And the minute he was out they were going to have a little talk, the three of them, about filing a lawsuit against Mr. Smith.
She had left the substation and driven to the Days Inn five blocks east. There was a Denny's on the comer, which she supposed was where dinner would be eaten tonight. She had checked in and called his parents. Luckily, they had been home. Brad's father, Frank, was an executive at Farrar & Sorts, an investment firm, and the cushiony salary and thirty years with the company had left him and Joan, Brad's mother, pretty well off. To devote more time to her art, where she excelled in watercolor, Joan had been able to take early retirement as a junior high school teacher after slugging it out for twenty years. Due to his position at Farrar and his years with the company, Frank had plenty of flex and vacation time. They had been very upset and alarmed by what happened. "Do you want us to come up?" Joan asked.
"Yeah," Lisa had said, sitting on the bed, twirling the telephone cord between her fingers. She would feel better if Brad's parents were here. She wouldn't feel so alone.
Joan asked if she would be okay by herself tonight, and Lisa said she thought she would. *We'll be up in the morning, then," Joan had said. "Between ten and eleven.'
Lisa glanced at the clock on the nightstand. It was now closing in on six PM. Her stomach rumbled. She hadn't eaten a thing since this morning and she was hungry. She stood up and began rummaging in her purse. The cop that had pulled them over-he had finally introduced himself as Officer Chris Lansing-said that Brad would be fine for the weekend. He was in his own cell, and he would be served three meals a day. Lisa's heart went out to Brad, who was a good man. He surely didn't deserve to have this happen to him, but at least he had his own cell and the jail itself was empty. "If we get anybody else for the weekend, they'll have their own cell. Don't worry, Mrs. Miller, he'll be fine."
She was reflecting on what a gentleman Officer Lansing had become the more he learned about what really happened, when her thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door.
She whirled to the door, her heart leaping slightly in her chest. That couldn't be Joan and Frank, not this early. Even if they had changed their minds about coming up tonight, it would still take them three hours or more to get up here from Huntington Beach. She went to the door and peered through the peephole. Nothing.
She opened the door and peeked out, and that's when the door slammed back violently and hit her above the left eye.
She fell back and hit the wall as the door slammed open. Her mind was spinning, trying to track what was happening, and then he was looming over her, his beard scruffy in his grin. "Thought you were rid of me, huh, bitch?" Mr. Smith said. Then he swung one hard, callused fist down onto her head and Lisa saw stars, then blackness.
Four
The next thing she was aware of was her head hurting.
Lisa came awake gradually, as if swimming up from the bottom of a pool. The darkness turned to gray, then a murky color punctuated by lights and muffled sounds. The lights grew brighter, but everything was blurry. A shadow loomed over her and hung there; she was frightened, thinking the shadow was going to descend and take her down into darkness again.
Then her blurred vision cleared and she blinked. She was lying on her back in the motel room's queen-sized bed. Her arms were tied behind her back, and the strain on her shoulders was what brought the pain to the surface. She shifted on the bed and then she saw him, sitting on a chair by the end table. He smiled and rose to his feet. Instinct took over and she kicked out with her feet, but she didn't get anywhere: he had tied her ankles together, too.
Mr. Smith laughed. "Now now, Mrs. Miller. No need to get antsy."
"Let me out now!" Lisa screamed. The sound of her scream was loud, even to her ears. She let loose another loud, piercing scream and tried to lunge off the bed at Mr. Smith.
Mr. Smith's cocky grinned disappeared. He swarmed over the bed, his body pinning her down as she screamed and flayed on the bed. You cocksucking motherfucker, I'm gonna kill you-"
Now now, let's not have any of that." He damped one large, meaty hand over her mouth to shut her up. Lisa clamped her teeth over the fleshy part of his thumb and bit down hard. Mr. Smith yelled and jerked back, holding his thumb. Lisa squirmed violently and tried to scream again, but managed only a slight croak. "You bitch!" He held up his bleeding hand to Lisa, his features seeming to say /can't-believe-you-bit-me!
Lisa took a deep breath and yelled at the top of her lungs. Her back arched as she lifted her upper body off the mattress. Mr. Smith fumbled in a small bag she saw on the nightstand, and he extracted a handkerchief. He picked up a small bottle resting by the bag, poured something in the handkerchief, set the bottle down, and advanced toward the bed. Lisa's eyes widened in shock, and she struggled. Mr. Smith approached her and Lisa opened her mouth to scream again, but the handkerchief was stuffed into her mouth, the wet part clamped down over her nostrils, and then she was breathing in a heavy, acidic stench and she saw stars. The room was spinning, and she barely had time to recognize the looming figure of Mr. Smith over her as her mind reeled from the scent of whatever it was he had given her, and then her last thought was Oh my God, the baby=
When she woke up again, she had a splitting headache. She tasted something in her mouth and ran her tongue along it. It was a loth rag, wedged into her mouth and tied around the back of her head. She was gagged.
The sun had dropped outside and it was darker in the room now. She lay on the bed, her heart pounding, letting her eyes grow accustomed to the dark. She heard him before she saw him, from the chair at the writing desk opposite the bed. "You're awake," he said. "You don't have to lie there and pretend to still be out. I know you're awake"
She almost let out a sob of frustration and fear. She felt tears at the back of her throat; her face felt hot and flush. She was no longer hungry, but there was an empty feeling in her belly anyway-the empty feeling of fear.
The dark shape sitting at the chair rose to its feet and walked over to the side of the bed. Lisa could barely make out Mr. Smith as he stood over her. "I had to gag you," he said, "because you were being unreasonable. There's no need to be unreasonable. It's a good thing for you nobody heard you. If somebody had heard you and come to investigate, you wouldn't have woken up, little lady. No sirree."
Lisa began to cry.