Mr. Smith leaned over her and she could make his features out more clearly through tear-blurred eyes. He was grinning. "Everything's going to be fine," he said. "You got a nice little bump on your noggin, but it's barely noticeable, which is good. We're just going to wait until it gets dark, then we're going to hit the road. That's why I had to tie you up and gag you. Once it's dark and the coast is clear, I'll move you to my van and we'll head off."
Head off to where? Her mind screamed. She tried to control her sobs, but couldn't. The tears flowed freely and her breath was harsh. Why are you doing this?
As if he had heard her silent question, he smiled: "I know you're probably wondering why I'm doing this. If it'll make you feel better, I've never done this kind of thing before-kidnapping people, that is. I'm not some psycho or some serial killer. I'm not going to hurt you!
So why are you doing this?
Mr. Smith leaned over her. "You guys presented yourself to me so perfectly. The citizen's arrest? That was just my way of getting you separated from your husband. By the time he gets out of jail Monday morning, you and I will be over the hills and far away."
Lisa felt a sudden weight of fear in her belly. Oh my God, he's going to kill me!
Mr. Smith leaned closer to her. She could smell his breath; it smelled of onions. "So your hubby gets to spend the weekend in jail-and you?" He chuckled and straightened up, rising to his full height. "You get to spend the weekend in my company. We're going to have a good time together." He walked to the window and parted the drapes, peering out at the darkness.
Lisa's heart raced. What was he going to do with her? She felt a sinking sense of dread. It wasn't just her anymore-there was the baby to think about now. She was almost paralyzed with fear at the thought of the fetus in her womb being hurt, but somehow she barreled past that. Her hands moved to and fro behind her back, testing the bonds. He had trussed her up pretty tight. It would take a miracle to untie herself, and unlike the heroes and heroines of novels, she didn't think she'd be able to free herself.
Mr. Smith turned back to her. "You might be wondering what I'm going to do to you. Like I said, Mrs. Miller, I've never done this before. I ain't no serial killer, and I ain't no rapist, either. It's just that, well.. " He shrugged. "Maybe I'll tell you later if you behave. How's that sound?"
He grinned wide again, his teeth gleaming in the darkness. "We'll leave when it gets dark. We have a good threehour drive ahead of us."
Lisa's breathing became quick and labored as Mr. Smith stepped loser to her and leaned over her prone, trussed-up form on the bed.
Five
When Joan and Frank Miller pulled into the parking lot of the Days Inn the next morning at ten-thirty, they saw the kids' Lexus parked in front of room 6. There were four other cars in the parking lot: a black Camaro, two SUVs, and an Accura Legend. Rank pulled in next to the Lexus and turned it off. "Here we are," he said.
"I wonder if she was able to talk to Brad this morning," Joan said, grabbing her purse and sliding out of the passenger seat.
"If she hasn't yet, maybe the three of us will be able to this morning," Frank said, shutting the driver's-side door and stretching his back. The three-hour drive had begun very early for them. They had been out of the house by seven o'clock.
Joan crossed over to room 6 and rapped on the door. They stood there for a moment, waiting for Lisa to answer, and then Joan knocked again. "Maybe she's in the shower," Frank suggested.
"Maybe' Joan rapped harder on the door and they waited, spending the next three minutes knocking every twenty seconds or so, trading puzzled looks. Joan put her ear to the door and frowned. "I don't hear anything."
"She couldn't have gone anywhere," Frank said, motioning to the Lexus. "Her car is still here."
"Do you think she might have walked to the police station?" Joan shaded her eyes with the flat of her hand as she gazed down Rim Road. "The police station is only five blocks that way."
Frank shrugged. "It's possible. She might be at the Denny's having breakfast, too. Why don't we take a little walk and find out?"
Their little walk took them to the Denny's, then to the Ventura County Sheriff substation. Once at the substation, they inquired at the front desk about their son. The desk clerk, a young woman with black hair carefully pinned back, consulted a computer. "He's in the jail's holding and receiving area," she said.
"Has he had any visitors this morning?" Joan asked. It had been warm this morning in Orange County, and she had dressed in a pair of white slacks and a blue blouse. It was a little chilly in Ventura, and she pulled a white sweater over her shoulders.
The clerk shook her head. "No, he hasn't. Are you family?"
"We're his parents," Frank said. "Can we see him?"
"Let me check" The clerk picked up the extension on her desk, punched a number, and got somebody else on the line. "Mr. Miller in 4D? His parents are here. Can he have visitors?" She paused. "Okay, thanks." She hung up and turned to Frank and Joan. "The jail warden will be out in a minute"
Five minutes later, a door opened and a young officer looked out. "Mr. and Mrs. Miller?"
As they followed the officer down the hall to the rear of the building where the jail was, Frank asked again if Brad had received any visitors this morning. "None," the officer said.
"Are you sure?" Joan asked. "We were thinking our daughter-in-law might be here already."
"You're the first to see Mr. Miller this morning," the officer said. He inserted a key into a large metal door and opened it, ushering them inside. "Last cell on the left. Press the buzzer outside the door when you're finished.*
'Thanks." Frank took Joan's arm and led her through the door and down the hall.
Brad was waiting for them at the front of the cell, his hands gripping the metal bars. His hair looked ruffled and there were dark circles under his eyes. He smiled when he saw them. "God, am I glad to see you guys!"
Joan went to her son and reached through the bars, grasping his hands and pulling him closer. She kissed his cheek. "We're glad to see you too, son.'
"You okay, Brad?" Frank asked, taking Brad's hand and squeezing it affectionately.
"I'm tired. I didn't get any sleep in here last night."
Joan was nervous, not just for the situation at hand, but because they hadn't seen Lisa. "Lisa hasn't been by this morning has she?"
"No," Brad said, his face strained. "I thought she would have been here by now. She called you last night, didn't she?"
"Yes, she called us last night from her room," Joan said, casting a worried glance at Flank.
"She gave us her room number last night when we talked to her," Frank said. Joan could tell her husband was trying to appear calm. "We got here fifteen minutes ago and went to her room, but she wasn't there!
Brad frowned, worry creasing his features. "Rut's weird.*
"Her car was there," Joan said, as if to reaffirm to her son that everything was okay. "Maybe we just missed her at the Denny's or something."
"Why don't I head back and see if I can find her," Frank said, looking from his wife to his son. "Maybe we did miss her."
"You do that," Joan said. "I'll stay here."
Frank nodded, gave his son a smile, and pressed the buzzer at the end of the hall. The door opened and he stepped through, pausing briefly to talk to the officer on the other side. The door closed and then it was just mother and son, alone in the jail.
Joan turned to Brad, trying to not appear so worried. "Have they been feeding you in here?"
"Yeah," Brad said, dangling his arms over the bars. "The guards are really nice. As you can see, I've got the entire block to myself." He tried to muster up a smile, but it came across as half-assed and forced.