Survivor

by J. F. Gonzalez

  "You know, this is crazy," Detective Orr said after the round of phone calls had been made. They were in San Bernardino, heading east toward the mountains. "I mean, we're on it. We'll probably have these guys in custody by tonight."

  "I'm not taking any chances," William Grecko said.

  "We'll get Lisa to look at surveillance video at the bank and get some blowups of the suspects," Detective Orr said. "We might come up with a match somewhere. The FBI has gotta have heard of these guys by now, from what Lisa says they're into."

  "Maybe" William Grecko said. "But like I said, I don't want to take chances."

  Detective Orr was silent. After a minute, he asked Lisa, "Would you be available to look at some video when we get back to Irvine?"

  Lisa looked at William, who nodded. "Yeah. Her and Brad's flight isn't until ten-thirty tonight. Long as we can get them on the flight, sure."

  They were silent again as they drove through San Bernardino County and made their way to the foothills and began the ascent into the mountain range. When they reached the Lake Arrowhead city limits, Detective Orr broke the long silence. "I'm going to call ahead to the San Bernardino substation at Big Bear and give them our M. If there's anything you remember, don't be afraid to tell me."

  Lisa met his gaze in the rearview mirror. 'I won't; she said. The minute they had begun ascending the mountains, Lisa had tried to piece together what she could remember from her trip up with Tim, but she couldn't. She'd been blindfolded! Weren't they fucking listening to her?

  William squeezed her hand. `You'll be fine"

  Lisa turned to him and made a halfhearted attempt at a smile. She did feel better that William was with her and taking care of her. But the closer they got to Arrowhead, the closer they got to Big Bear. And with that realization came the sinking sense of dread she felt the last time she was up here with Tim Murray. Knowing they were on the same road was creating a sense of fear in her that was churning in the pit of her stomach.

  The Big Bear substation was small, about the size of a small-town real estate office; with a closet-sized waiting room, two or three offices, and a holding cell in the back, it bore all the necessary requirements for a small-town police station. They were seated in Sheriff Dean Sweigert's office, and Lisa was beginning to feel claustrophobic.

  She had begun to panic the closer they got to the station, and William had rummaged around in his briefcase for some antidepressants. Lisa gulped two of the capsules down and put her head between her knees, eyes dosed, willing herself to calm down. By the time they arrived at the station she was feeling a little better, but she was still nervous.

  The first thing Dean Sweigert had done when Lisa sat down was pull up a chair in front of her. He looked into her eyes, his features grim, serious. His brush-cut hair was gray, his face weathered, tanned, features sharply chiseled. She pegged him to be in his mid-forties. "You are a very lucky lady," he said, his tone soft yet strong. "And we're going to find the people that did this, so help me God."

  Lisa nodded, not wanting to meet his gaze.

  "Detective Orr told me everything on the phone a few hours ago," he said. "1 can't believe that people can be ca- pabJp of such barbarity. And in such a place as Big Bear." He shook his head. He reached for a file on his desk and pulled something out, which he now held up in front of Lisa. It was a photograph. "He told me about what happened to Debbie Martinez during the time she went missing. Is this the woman you saw?"

  Lisa looked at the photograph and choked back a sob. It was Debbie Martinez all right. Debbie was seated on a stone ledge with her back to a small canyon, smiling at the camera. It looked like the photo was taken at a natural park-Yosemite, perhaps. She was wearing a white cotton shirt, blue jeans, and a red scarf around her neck. Her black hair fell to her shoulders. She looked beautiful. "Yes," Lisa said, nodding as she held back the tears. "'Rat's her.'Ihat's Debbie…" '

  Dean Sweigert placed the photo back in the file. Her husband filed a missing-person report on her nearly two weeks ago. We've combed the entire area looking for her." He looked up at Detective Orr and William Grecko, then back at Lisa. To you think you can help us? Do you think you can remember the cabin you were held in?"

  *1 don't know," Lisa said, dabbing at her eyes. "I was blindfolded during the trip up here, and they blindfolded me when they took me out!"

  "There's three cabins within a mile and a half of the Martinez place that might be where you were taken," Dean said. "We've spoken to the owners already. Two of them deny having seen her, and the third cabin is owned by a corporation that's involved in multimedia or something. They use it for weekend retreats. They claim it was being rented the weekend Debbie disappeared!

  "Were any of these cabins within easy walking distance from the Martinez place?' William Grecko asked.

  "One of them was," Dean said, leaning back in his chair. "She could've walked to the other two pretty easily. Debbie ran three miles every day. A mile walk or so would have been nothing to her."

  Tim boarded up one of the windows," Lisa said, sud denly remembering her ordeal. She looked up at Dean, then at Detective Orr and Billy. "Right before Debbie showed up, he was boarding up the window to the bedroom I was in so I wouldn't escape. Maybe-"

  Dean moved toward his desk and reached for his radio. "I'll have somebody check it out."

  "Does the name Tim Murray mean anything to you?" Detective Orr asked Dean.

  Dean shook his head. "His name isn't on any of the deeds to the properties we checked out."

  "What about Jeff?" Lisa asked. She shuddered at the thought of calling him Animal. "No last name. I never did learn his last name."

  "I'm afraid not," Dean said. He was just about to speak into the radio when a tall uniformed ranger poked his head in. Dean looked up. "Yes, Glenn?"

  "Sorry to interrupt, Mr. Sweigert," the ranger said, looking nervous, "but I couldn't help overhearing. Um… I think I know what cabin you may be referring to."

  Dean Sweigert set the radio down. "Okay.. "

  Glenn cast a nervous glance at Lisa. "You said one.of the guys that abducted you was named Tim? And another called himself Jeff?"

  Lisa nodded.

  "Was there a guy named Al with them?"

  Lisa nodded vigorously. "Yes"

  Glenn looked pale. "Tall, thin guy? 'Thinning blond hair, looked like he was in his late thirties maybe?"

  Lisa nodded. 'That's him. That's AI "

  "And Tim… kinds dumpy-looking guy with glasses? Bushy beard, sandy-colored hair, big beer belly?"

  "Yeah," Lisa said. Her heart pounded.

  Dean's eyes widened in surprise. "You saw these guys?"

  "'The other guy, Jeff," Glenn said, ignoring Dean. "Nice looking guy, early thirties maybe, dark hair. Kinda yuppie-looking "

  "Yes " Lisa felt her stomach sink as Glenn described the man she could only think of as Animal. A monster.

  Glenn turned to Dean Sweigert." the night Neal phoned the report in on Debbie, we canvassed the area south of the Martinez cabin. V pulled up to the Golgotha cabin and came across these guys. They looked like they were leaving and they were packing camera equipment into a van. Neal knew Tim, asked him if he had seen Debbie around, and Tim said he hadn't seen her. I… I didn't think anything of it at the time-'

  "You really saw these guys?" Dean sounded surprised and angry.

  Glenn nodded. He licked his lips nervously. "Yeah. Like I said, Neal looked like he knew this Tim Murray character. I questioned all three of them. One of them claimed it was the first time they'd been up here. Tim said they were using the cabin for the weekend to shoot a low-budget film." He looked nervous, scared, and sick. It was obvious that word of the crime had traveled around the station. 'I… I had no idea that these " guys… that they.-.

  "It's not your fault," Detective On said softly, sighing in obvious frustration.

  Glenn took a deep breath and bowed his head for a moment. Lisa could tell that the ranger was having a hard time dealing with this. He took an
other deep breath, then looked up at them again. "Christ, I feel so sick about this. I had no idea they were the guys. I mean, at the time I questioned them we were dealing with a missing-person thing and… shit!"

  'It's okay, Glenn," Dean said, looking grim.

  'What's this Golgotha cabin?" Detective On asked.

  "It's owned by the Golgotha Publishing Company," Dean told him. "They're some kind of multimedia corporation. Self-help books and videos, CD-ROMs, corporate training shit. 'They're apparently financed by one of the big churches in Orange County. The cabin itself is owned by the board of directors and sometimes they come up here for retreats." "

  "I asked Neal about this Tim guy after we left," Glenn said, looking nervous. "He said that Tim rents the place out from somebody, but he never told him who owns it. Neal never asked."

  *You questioned these guys? The Golgotha people?" Detective Orr asked Dean.

  Dean moved over to the filing cabinet and began rummaging through it. "Yeah, we did. I got on the phone with one of them a few days after Debbie disappeared. One of their board members claimed the cabin was rented that weekend. That a film crew was making some kind of student film for a Christian University."

  "I don't believe it," Lisa said. Hearing that the perversities that had been carried on in that cabin were being hidden by the guise of organized religion was making her sick.

  "Did you get the name of the person you spoke to?" Detective On asked.

  "Yeah" Dean found the paper he was looking for. "Oliver Gardenia" He looked at Lisa. "Ring a bell?"

  Lisa was trying to remember. "I don't know. I… I think Al might have mentioned somebody named Sam at some point during the weekend, but.. " She didn't remember an Oliver Gardenia.

  "Even though the corporate name is listed on the deed, Oliver's name and signature are on some of the other paperwork, so that's who I called."

  "Make me copies of everything you got," Detective Orr said, moving to another desk and picking up the phone. "Mind if I use your phone?"

  "Go ahead."

  And as the investigation kicked into high gear, Lisa could only sit back and let William Grecko comfort her as she sought to retreat from the madness.

  Twenty-three

  Brad was at home packing clothes for him and Lisa into a single suitcase when the doorbell rang.

  He had gotten a call from William Grecko an hour and a half ago telling him to pack and to be ready to leave when he and Lisa returned. William said he had set them up at an undisclosed location in Las Vegas and that they were leaving this evening. When Brad asked how Lisa was doing, William said she was fine. "'There's more, but I'll tell you everything tonight" Billy's tone of voice told Brad that things were brewing and that he couldn't talk about it on the phone. He would find out soon enough.

  Brad moved through the house to the front door, wondering who was at the door. It couldn't be Lisa's parents, who were still in town. He had talked to them already and they were waiting by the phone per his instructions. He had talked to his parents this afternoon, telling his dad, then his mother, everything. His mom had gasped in shock, then had given the phone to his father, Brad had heard her crying in the background as he told his father. Dad had been silent, his voice shaky. He'd sounded shocked. He'd asked Brad if there was anything they could do and Brad told them no, not yet, Billy was taking care of everything. He'd call later.

  He looked through the peephole, couldn't see anything at first due to the brightness of the porch light, and then a face swam into view.

  Brad sighed and unlocked the door, opening it. "Danielle," he said.

  Danielle Kwong stood on the porch, dressed in a black conservative business suit. Danielle was Lisa's partner at the law office, and she and her boyfriend often accompanied him and Lisa to the movies or to dinner on sporadic FYiday evenings. "I'm sorry I can't talk, Danielle," Brad said. "I was just getting some stuff packed up."

  "That's okay," Danielle said. Her tanned oval face was bright and inquisitive, and despite her smile Brad could read a sense of concern in her exotic features. "I was just on my way home and thought I'd stop by to see how Lisa was doing!

  "She's better," Brad said, not bothering to step aside to let her in, which he normally would have done. "But she's not here now"

  "Oh. "A hint of disappointment in her voice.

  "I'm sorry," Brad said, feeling awkward in his treatment of her. Billy's words echoed in his mind. Pack your things and wait for me. Don't tell anybody where you're going. "It's just that I'm short on time and I'm already running late. When Lisa gets home, we're leaving straight for the airport."

  "Where are you going?"

  Las Vegas is a big place, he thought. It's not going to hurt to say we're going away for the week, is it? Brad decided it wouldn't hurt to tell Danielle at least that much. After all, she was a close friend and she'd been concerned and shocked at what happened to Lisa. She had volunteered to run errands for Brad and told him numer ous times that she was there if they needed help or just wanted somebody to talk to. Danielle Kwong was the definition of the word Mend. He could trust her. "We're going to Vegas for a week. We need to get away and just… relax. You know?"

  Danielle smiled. "I know. And you guys need the vacation. Well, tell Lisa I stopped by and that I hope she's feeling better. Maybe you can have her call me at the office?"

  'Of course," Brad said.

  "Okay." Danielle stepped off the porch. "'Thanks. Bye!"

  "Bye" Brad closed the door after her.

  When the door was closed, Brad leaned against it. I didn't fuck up by telling her where we re going, did f? Billy's paranoia was starting to rub off on him. Whom could Danielle tell that would alert the murderous scumbags who had almost killed Lisa? Danielle and Lisa worked in Family Law, not Criminal Justice. Lisa spoke highly of her colleagues; he was certain that if William Grecko wasn't a loyal and trusted friend and ally, they could rely on a number of lawyers in Lisa's firm to help them. Danielle Kwong maybe, or Kyle Bennett. Hell, Lisa was friends with George Brooks, one of the senior partners. 'There was no end to the resources they could tap into if they hadn't been blessed with Billy's friendship. Besides, Billy Grecko was getting them out of town as a precaution. As he'd told Brad on the phone this afternoon, "I don't think these guys will be coming after you, but I want to play it safe. Most likely they're lying low right now. They won't be stupid enough to try to go after you this quickly. If we can get some solid leads in Big Bear, we'll be on their trail quickly and then we'll have them in jail where they belong'

  We N be fine, he thought as he checked the lock on the front door and retreated to the bedroom to resume pack ing. By eleven we'll be on a plane to Vegas and Billy will have somebody there to meet us and take us to wherever it is we're staying. Even if somebody finds something out through Danielle-which is impossible-they'll have a hard time finding us in Las Vegas. Billy is probably going to have us in some safe house or a hotel under assumed names or something. We'll be safe.

  Brad finished packing and waited for Billy and Lisa to come home.

  "So talk to me."

  "Al's body'll never be found." Tim Murray grinned. The minute he entered Rick Shectman's office, he had settled his bulk down on the lime-green chair in front of the cluttered desk. He had only been awake for two hours. Last night had been an intense whirlwind. "Remember the movie Pulp Fiction?"

  Rick Shectman looked indifferent. "Vaguely."

  "A buddy of mine owns a scrap-metal yard in San Fernando," Tim continued. "I gotta key to his place. It's way the hell out in the middle of an industrial center. Me and Animal went out there around four in the morning. The best thing about it is that his shop is right next to an airport." Tim laughed. "There ain't no houses or anything anywhere near this place. And he runs so much shit through that yard, junked cars and shit. In fact, I've done some work for him… set him up with a few films. Anyway, he'd made it clear to me a while back that if I ever needed his services for disposal I could count on him. I called, and
he agreed to meet us there bright and early at six-thirty when he opened up shop. Animal and I got there early and I found a vehicle on the premises that was set for destruction. Animal cut Al up… you know… dismembered him and shit before we threw the pieces in the trunk of the car." Tim tried to hide his revulsion as he re membered what else Animal had done before wrapping Al's headless torso in a dirty blanket and placing it in the trunk. He'd seen Animal cut holes in people's sides before and fuck them during torture sessions, but he'd never thought of a neck stump as a sexual orifice before last night. Animal's excuse had been Might as well fuck another hole before we crush him up like a pancake. Besides, who'll know? Strangely enough, Tim hadn't gotten sick watching Animal stick his dick down the gray tubing of esophagus that was sticking out of Al's bloody neck stump and pumped away. He had gotten sick, however, thinking about what Animal had done to that infant; those images came to him unbidden now, and they had come last night while watching Animal violate Al's headless corpse. It had taken all of his willpower to not throw up. "Anyway," Tim continued, looking at Rick, trying to fight back the images, "we just cut him up and put him in the trunk and waited for Mark" to show up. When he came in he didn't ask questions, just moved the car in for destruction with a bunch of others and we watched as he and the first-shift supervisor mashed those cars to little chunks of metal. The car we put him in wound up being mashed with four other cars into a metal cube about four by four feet!

  "I surely hope no offending bodily fluids leaked out of this metal cube," Rick said.

  "Nah!" Tim said. "Whatever leaked out looked like oil. And Mark, he don't give a shit. He owed me a favor, and something tells me he's done this kind of thing before."

  Rick nodded. "What about Al's vehicle?"

  "We left it in East LA," Tim said, chuckling. "Left the keys in the ignition. AI'd shit if he found out his precious Pbrsche is probably cut up into spare parts now by a bunch of wetbacks."