"Yeah," Tim said, turning back to Animal, who appeared to be gaining control of himself. The body of the baby's mother, Alicia, was lying on the plastic tarp floor at the foot of the bed. Her sightless eyes stared up at the ceiling. Her face was a mass of contusions and cuts. Her torso was sliced open, the flesh spread apart like a dressed-out deer to show her inner works. Animal hadn't dragged them out like he usually did when they filmed a snuff flick; he'd merely jacked off over them and come inside her body cavity.
Tim looked at Debbie's horribly violated remains, then back down at Alicia's corpse, still in a sense of awe at Animal's performance tonight. Three times was the most Animal had ever come during a shoot, and tonight Animal had come at least five times. Five orgasms, three dead bodies.
The sound of Al packing up his camera gear snapped Tim back to reality. "We gotta get the fuck out of here," Al said. "Animal, go take a fucking shower and wash that shit off of you. Brush your teeth, too. I can't have you looking like a fucking horror-movie serial killer all fucking evening.*
Animal turned around, and for the first time Tim was struck with cold fear as the dominiatrix's muddy eyes fixed on him from behind the leather mask. It was the first time Tim had ever felt this way about Animal; mostly he liked Animal just fine. The guy was witty, smart, funny, nice to be around. And he was good-looking, too. He really did look like an all-American boy. He certainly knew how to put the charm on around the women. When he wasn't playing the role of a dom, he was a financial consultant for a large international firm. He made good money, surely more than enough so that he didn't have to partake in the role of a sadist for the snuff and torture films he starred in. But then, as he had explained to Tim one afternoon after they'd dropped off a film to a buyer who had commissioned it: "I like pain, and I enjoy inflicting it on others." There was no arguing with logic like that.
And as for his stage name, well, when he donned the mask and slipped into the role of a dom for one of his and Al's films, he was… well, an Animal.
Animal's eyes flicked from Tim to Al, then back to Tim again. He rubbed his hand over his sweat- and blooddrenched naked torso. The room they were in was splattered with it. The plastic tarp they had rolled onto the floor was slick with blood; it was also running down the tarp they had nailed up along the walls. It was on the ceiling. Al would have to get in here tomorrow and paint the ceiling. Getting rid of the bodies was going to be easy. All that needed to be done was to move the bed frame, roll the bodies into the tarp, and stick them in the back of the van. Tim had found a nice secluded dumping spot a few weeks ago. It was in a remote area; no one would think — of looking for them out there.
"Time's a-wastin', people," Al said, winding up cable.
Animal turned and walked into the small bathroom off the bedroom. A moment later, the shower came on. Tim wandered outside for a breath of fresh air; the smell of blood, puke, and shit was too much for him right now. He had produced eighteen snuff films over the past ten years, and he had never gotten used to the smell of death.
Tim looked up at the star-filled night, breathing in the fresh mountain air. Despite that bit with the baby, it had gone good tonight. Debbie and that Alicia chick were perfect; those in the circle had been itching for something different in the flicks he produced. They had wanted something new, something fresh. Tim could surely see where they were coming from. Watching the same breed of whores and bun boys getting raped and sliced up was getting old. But it was definitely safer. Nobody ever missed the kind of kids that sold their asses on the Hollywood streets when they turned up missing. Christ, they were from all over the fucking place. They came from the cornfields of Nebraska, the deserts of Arizona, the heavily wooded areas of Maine, the swamps of Louisiana. Fuck, one guy they'd used had come from Alaska! That guy had been a real masochistic freak. He had gotten off on some pretty heavy shit. Animal had only been too happy to oblige.
But these two women… that was a different story. Both of them had been good-looking as hell, much better-looking than the homeless chicks they usually used. They looked as if they had just stepped out of a Vogue shoot or something. That was one of the requirements the client wanted for this shoot; he'd even had somebody in mind and had provided Sam with a physical description and a license-plate number. It had been risky, but Sam said the client would double the money to match the risk and Tim had taken it. And then he had gotten even more lucky with Alicia and her kid.
Tim frowned. He didn't doubt Al's claim that Sam would double the price a third time due to the fact that they'd found a baby. He'd heard of a pedophile group in the Pacific Northwest that was rumored to be interested in a snuff film with a baby in it. What he was worried about was letting Lisa Miller get away. He'd had strict orders, down to the make and license number of her car and her physical description, to grab her and bring her to the cabin by Saturday. Al and Animal were to do the rest. Tim didn't give a fuck-he was being paid double for the risk, and the plan he'd formulated had worked perfectly.
Then everything had fallen to shit.
First that Debbie Martinez bitch wandering into the cabin. Stupid cunt. That had been a minor annoyance, but he'd taken care of it. He'd mentioned what happened to Sam, and while Sam hadn't been pleased he'd grudgingly agreed to find a buyer and encouraged Tim to have Animal finish her quickly. Tim assured Sam he'd do that, and the three of them had driven to the cabin to do just that. Animal had managed to draw it out, though, which was fine in some ways, but they'd stopped production midway through. Animal was spending a lot of time with the bitch-he really must've been wanting to fuck this bitch up for a long time, because he was really enjoying it. Al had wanted to resume the next morning, and Tim had seen no reason to disagree. Debbie surely wasn't go ing anywhere, and Lisa Miller was tied up tighter than a gnat's ass. So they'd left.
What had fucked things up… what really fucked it up was Lisa Miller selling this other chick and her kid down the river for her own life.
The minute Al heard Lisa say she could get ahold of an infant, rim had seen the dollar signs in Al's eyes. There was no arguing with him after that. If Sam wanted to change his mind, that was his business. He understood business. And as they transferred Lisa to the van for the drive to Orange County, Al had pulled Tim and Animal aside briefly and told them that the minute they grabbed Alicia and the baby they were to grab Lisa's skinny white ass too and haul her back in the van. They weren't letting her go, and as far as the original job went that was still on the agenda. Let Lisa think they were letting her go; ignorance was bliss, right?
As it turned out, the money didn't matter to Animal. He'd been wanting to do a baby for some time.
What hadn't been in the script was Lisa Miller escaping. Bitch had slammed Animal pretty good in the solar plexus. Must have been a lucky shot. But there was no way Tim was hanging around to chase after her. Animal had limbed back in the van and Tim had sped off back to the cabin. Al had been pissed as donkey shit, and he was flying off the walls. He'd been indulging in the face Drano while he and Animal were gone, too. Tim had spotted the mirror and razor blades and Al had kept rubbing his nose and sniffling, his pupils dilated as he yelled at them for letting Lisa go. Animal had had to hold Al back as Tim told him he'd take care of it. "We'll get her," he'd said. "I know where she lives. When we're done tonight, I'll take my cousin's truck and cruise by her place and scope it out. We'll get her, don't worry."
"Jesus hick!" Al had thundered. He'd twisted out of Animal's grasp. "What the hell am I going to do now that she's gone? Shit!*
'ell Sam we got the film," Tim said, the ruse springing into place perfectly. "Tell him we got it all. When are you supposed to make the delivery?"
"In two weeks!" Al said, running a shaky hand through his thinning hair.
"Piece of cake," Tim said, exchanging a glance with Animal. Alicia and the baby were still in the truck, and Tim remembered hearing the infant cry as he'd tried to calm Al down. "She doesn't know us, she doesn't know where this place is, and she doesn't
know you.'
'But she saw Animal's face!" Al had almost screamed the words.
"Yes, she did," Tim said. How do you argue with logic like that?" But we're going to get her. Trust me on this. Besides, I think right now we got something else on our plate we gotta take care of."
That had broken the spell. Al had huffed dramatically, then motioned for Animal to bring Alicia and the baby in, and Tim had spent the next few hours watching in horrified fascination, then disgust and fear and sickness, as they worked. And as the gut-wrenching scenes unfolded, Tim had felt those old feelings from years ago erupt to the surface of his psyche.
And now they had it. Three snuff films, one that of an infant. Ready to roll and bank on.
Tim extracted a cigarette from the pack he kept in his breast pocket. He lit it with shaky fingers, dragged in deep. Fuck, but this had been an intense shoot. Animal had just been… watching him and that baby had just been…
No, Dad, please don't hurt Binky!
The look in Alicia's eyes that screamed No, my baby! No, please-
Remembering the anguish he felt, seeing it on Alicia's face.
He felt the tears again. "Oh fuck, what've I done?"
Al stepped outside, lugging camera equipment. He was no longer paranoid and seemed to be his old self. He glared at Tim. "Quit fucking around and help me carry this shit to the van."
Tim struggled to rein his emotions in. He took a deep breath, struggling to hold back the tears. Time to focus; time to get through this night. He took a drag off his cigarette. "Yes, boss," Tim said, as he helped Al dismantle the camera equipment.
It was closing in on three A.M. and they had just rolled the last tarp containing the body of Alicia and the remaining scraps of her baby daughter into the van when headlights lit up the cabin.
Tim looked up, his heart leaping in his throat.
"Who the fuck do we have here?" Al said.
"Where's Animal?" Tim asked, suddenly feeling scared. He had insisted they clean up as much as possible at the cabin, including removing the boards he had nailed up on the back bedroom window, and he was glad they did.
"Here" Animal stepped up behind them. He was dressed in blue jeans, a white chambray shirt, black loafers. His brown hair was combed and styled perfectly. He was carrying a briefcase that contained the tools he used for shoots. He smiled, his eyes gleaming. "Don't worry," he said. "We can handle this."
When the vehicle pulled up, Tim saw that it was one with the words BIG BEAR P.D. painted on the doors. The driver turned the engine off and the passenger door flew open. A tall man with angular features and short brown hair leaped out. He looked frantic. ""Iim! Hey, Tim, you seen Debbie around?"
No, I haven't, Neal," Tim said, trying to calm his nerves. He'd had a feeling this might happen, and he was hoping they could get the hell out of here before Neal showed up. Neal had probably shown up at his cabin and freaked out when he saw that Debbie wasn't there.
The cop stepped out of the vehicle. He was wearing a light windbreaker. Are you the owner of this cabin, sir?"
"No, Officer, I'm not." Tim offered them a smile. "I'm just renting it from the owners."
You sure you haven't seen Debbie?" Neal was suddenly looming in front of him. He could feel the panic washing off the man in waves. His eyes were-frantic.
"I'm sorry, Neal, I haven't." Tim feigned a look of concern. A sudden sense that he had the upper hand burst through him. It made him feel better, in control of the situation. is there anything wrong?"
"She's gone!" Neal said, his voice a fast clip. "She was supposed to be at the cabin when I came up yesterday, and she was gone!"
The cop was calm and professional. "Mr. Martinez reported his wife missing earlier today. He'd been looking for her and calling us all day, and we got involved this evening. Are you sure you haven't seen her recently?"
"No." Tim shook his head.
"Can I ask who your two friends are?" the cop asked.
Tim turned back to Al and Animal, who had been listening with interest. Al turned on the charm, instantly transforming from snuff pornographer to a guy who looked like he might be a contractor or a cabinetmaker. "I'm Al Pressman," he said.
"And I'm Jeff," Animal said, turning on the charm as well. "Jeff Scott'
"How long have you been up here with Mr….?'
"Murray," Tim said. "Tim Murray"
"How long have you been with Mr. Murray today?" the cop asked.
"All day," Jeff answered.
"And you haven't noticed anything unusual?"
"No"
"Did the three of you come up for the weekend?"
"Yes," Al said. "We've been up here since late Saturday."
"Are you sure you haven't seen Debbie?" Neal asked frantically. Tim could see that the man was imploring them for help. His eyes were wide and frantic with panic. "She just walked out of the cabin. She left her car, her purse, everything at the cabin. I thought maybe she might have taken a walk by here or-"
"I haven't seen her all weekend," Tim said. He was feeling the pressure mount again.
The cop nodded. "Mr. Martinez says he called yesterday and his wife didn't answer the phone. And she never returned his calls."
"I was working this weekend," Neal said, pacing back and forth in front of the jeep. "I couldn't get off. We were going to meet up here today. And when I got here, she wasn't there!"
"What does she look like?" Al asked, his features masked with concern.
The officer described Debbie Martinez to them, and as he did, Al and Jeff frowned, shaking their heads. "No" Al said. "I haven't seen anybody looking like that. We haven't really been out much."
"Can I ask what's in the van?" the cop asked.
Tim felt as if he had been punched in the stomach.
"Camera equipment," Al said.
"Camera equipment?"'Ihe cop looked at him.
"My friends and I " Tim said, attempting to explain as his mind raced. "Wre're amateur filmmakers. We've been up here all weekend working on a film project'
The cop was looking at the van, as if trying to see through it. Tim felt the lead in his belly grow solid. He glanced at Al quickly and saw that Al was watching the cop, trying hard to look casual. Only Jeff bore the slightest trace of normalcy; he looked both concerned for Neal and curious as to why Debbie Martinez could disappear.
"When was the last time you saw Debbie Martinez?" the cop asked, turning back to Tim.
Tim shrugged, trying to come up with the right answer. "I don't know-few weeks ago maybe?'
And you two?" The cop nodded at Al and Animal.
"I've never seen her; Al said.
"I was up here a few weeks ago with Tim," Animal said. -That was the last time I saw her."
The cop turned to Neal, who was hugging himself in the brisk coolness of the Big Bear night. "Why don't we try the Harper place and Keene's shack down 772?'
"Okay." Neal headed to the passenger side without looking at Tim or the others.
"Sorry to have troubled you folks,' the officer said.
"No problem, Officer; Tim said.
Al lifted the last carrying case containing the camera as the officer started the Jeep's engine. The headlights popped on and the Jeep pulled away, heading down the road.
'That was a close one,' Tim breathed, watching the taillights recede.
"Don't just stand there watching them leave!" Al barked. "Help me pack this shit up and let's get the tuck out of here!"
And Tim turned to do just that.
They got the hell out of there.
Eighteen
Lisa had been feeling a little sick the past day or so, and this morning it had been worse. She was curled into her favorite chair by the sofa, trying to ignore the pain. Brad could tell there was something wrong, but every time he asked if she was all right she said she was fine.
It had been two weeks since what they were now referring to as "their vacation that went to hell." Since that time, both of them had been questioned numerous tim
es by the LAPD, the San Bernardino County Sheriff's department, and the Ventura County Sheriffs Department, and Lisa had been examined at USC Medical Center. She had been taken to the hospital, where a thorough examination had been performed. Aside from a few bruises and scratches and dehydration, she was fine. The surprise she had hoped to tell Brad on their vacation was revealed that day, and Brad treated the news with a mixture of joy and relief. The medical personnel questioned her thoroughly about her attack, trying to determine if penetration occurred, and Lisa assured them that, no, they didn't rape her. They did other things to her, but they didn't rape her that way.
Brad was so happy she was alive that he seemed to brush off the story she told the police: She had been on her way to the Denny's near the motel when a van pulled up and she was grabbed. She was pulled into the van and somebody knocked her out with a rag drenched in chloroform. The next thing she knew, they were driving up to the mountains. They kept her in the van the entire weekend, slapping her around a little, forcing her to perform oral sex on them, and doing drugs, probably coke. Maybe it was crystal meth. Whatever it was, they were snorting it, it made them hyper, and it made them homy, but no matter how much they forced her to perform oral sex on them they never got hard. The first time she told this story, the detective nodded. "Speed freaks become impotent after a while. If they hadn't been, the attack probably would have been worse.'
She couldn't describe her assailants, no matter how much she was questioned. It had been dark, but she was certain there were four of them. They were big, they might have all been black, but they could have been Hispanic or Samoan or something. They were big and darkskinned, and some of them had kinky hair, and some of them were speaking a funny language that sounded like it could have been Spanish, it all happened so fast that she just didn't remember. They asked her repeatedly if Caleb Smith had anything to do with this, and at first her mind had drawn a blank until one of the detectives reminded her of the road-rage incident that had landed Brad in jail. She shook her head. 'No, it wasn't him. The van these guys were driving was white, with no windows. It wasn't Caleb Smith at all.
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