Survivor: 1 (44 page)

"We are talking," Frank said. He looked crazed and
desperate. "You need to listen."

"Okay, I'm listening." Please, just put the gun down!

*You already told me everything 1 need to know. I'm
fucked. My life is over, it's gone, it's fucked. They're going
to find out everything, and I don't want to be around
when that happens."

"What are they going to find out, Frank? Are they going
to find out that you really were involved?"

Frank's face trembled; he looked on the verge of tears,
as if he was trying to hold his emotions in. He struggled
to compose himself, still pointing the gun at William. "I
never wanted them to find out. You've got to believe me.
I've kept it secret for so long ... nobody knew. Not even
you. Joan certainly never knew, and she never would
have understood. She would have left me in a second if
she'd found out. I knew I could never show her that side
of myself ... she never even indulged in light bondage
with me. You know what I mean, William? The bitch
never even consented to just a little light B&D, a little slap
and tickle, a little role-playing. Know what she called it?
She called it sick fantasies for sick perverts."

William didn't know what to say. He could only stand there silently, hands raised in surrender, hoping Frank
would calm down.

"1 kept it to myself," Frank continued. "I ... it hurt me to
hear her say that, so.... I kept it to myself .. "

William licked his lips. "I'm listening, Frank. Go on ...
you can tell me everything."

Frank looked up at William again, his eyes wide, panicked. "Why should I tell you everything? You're just going
to tell Joan that-"

"What's the harm in her knowing now?"

Frank's grip on the gun tightened. "If I shoot you now,
nobody will know!"

'Ibat's not true, Frank. On the way over here, I talked
to one of my investigators. He's the one who found out
the information on you" William paused briefly, hoping
this would get to him. It did; Frank's face paled."How else
would you think I found out? Why else would I bring this
subject up to you?"

"Oh ... God .. ." Frank moaned. His back was leaning
against the tiled bathroom wall. He still had the gun
pointed at William, but he was loosening his grip. "I'm ...
so ... fucked ...

"It doesn't have to be that way, Frank I can get you
help. Please put down the gun!"

"You can't help me. They'll still find out and I'll be ruined. Everything I've worked at to keep that part of myself
secret ... it'll all come out and I'll be called a monster,
only I never actually killed anybody! I just liked to watch!
It'll be just as bad-"

As William's suspicions bore fruit, he tried to fight
down his revulsion. "You liked to watch? Why? I don't understand, Frank, what led you to this. Why .. "

"I don't know," Frank moaned, tears pouring down his
face. "I don't remember how it started, it just happened! I just ... found myself attracted to it ... found that the
hardcore imagery turned me on sexually and ... the
more I got into the extreme hardcore scene, the more I
liked it. It just ... it just kind of grew from there."

William was regaining some of his confidence in controlling the situation. If he could keep Frank talking, keep
talking to him in a smooth voice and get him to let down
his guard, he would rush him. "Why Lisa, though? I can
accept you had ... that you were living this secret life
as ... as a voyeur of ... of this stuff, but ... why Lisa?"

Frank wouldn't answer at first. He kept the gun pointed
at William, his features displaying the range of emotions
that were battling to the surface. William could tell he was
losing it. "I couldn't imagine what Joan's reaction was if
she'd known I was into heavier stuff than just the light
bondage, which she was so ... so repulsed by. I kept it secret. I had to. I needed Joan, needed that security of a wife
and a family and a job. I needed that ... that respect that
comes from doing well in business. But I also ... needed
to indulge every once in a while. I ... I didn't like to ...
actively participate ... but ... I just liked to watch ...
and... and.."

"How long have you been into this, Frank?" William
asked calmly.

Frank wasn't looking at William now, although he still
kept the gun trained on him. A long time," Frank said,
looking at the tiled wall in front of him. "I was fortunate
enough to keep it hidden, to live that other life so nobody
knew. It was like ... any other thing. Some guys get
turned on by normal pornography, others get turned on
by fetish stuff ... all that never did anything for me. What
I liked was ... very extreme hardcore S&M. At first it was
okay that it was all an act, that ... the people in the
videos were all consenting adults. I could fantasize that
the bottoms were being taken by force. But ... after a while that wasn't enough. Can you believe I was actually
asked to leave one of the bondage groups I was involved
with?" He looked at William. "When they found out I
wanted to watch a scene where the slave was really being taken by force, that she was an unwilling participant,
I was told to leave and not come back. They looked at
me like I was a freak. That's when I knew that ... something was wrong."

"Why didn't you get help?"

Frank ignored the question. He was looking back at
the wall in front of him, still holding the gun. "I did some
more searching, was able to find out through one of my
contacts about a more select group, and I got in. That ...
made me feel better. Knowing there were others like me,
who just liked to watch ... who were just as outwardly
normal and were professional people on the outside in
their everyday lives and contributed to society, even
though it was a very small group of people. At least I
knew I wasn't alone. I still contributed greatly to society, I
rose up in management, I provided for my family, gave
them everything they needed. But when I needed release, I knew I had an outlet. I was.. ' . fortunate enough
to gain the trust of this group. I was good at keeping my
mouth shut, at just showing up at the gatherings and
watching, paying any amount of money they asked for to
watch and then go away. But then-"

"Why Lisa, Frank?"

Frank had slumped down into a sitting position on the
bathroom floor, his back still against the wall. The arm
that held the gun was less in control now, but William still
didn't dare take a step forward to try to take it from hishands. He hoped to be able to talk Frank out of it. "The
minute I saw her, I knew that she was the one."

William paused. "What do you mean?"

'When I saw her, I couldn't get her out of my mind. Every time I saw her, I ... I imagined what it would be
like being with her ... doing to her what ... what I saw
in the few ... snuff films I saw. I kept fantasizing over and
over what it would be like to ... torture her and see her
suffer. Maybe that's how it works for ... the people who
are into this. I know that's how it was for me. I didn't pay
to see some ... some anonymous whore get snuffed and
imagine I was the one doing it to her. I always pretended
that it was somebody else and ... in the last few years
that somebody I visualized was Lisa."

William felt cold listening to this. To think that it wasn't
malice or greed or some monetary reason that had
driven Frank to arrange for Lisa's murder, but the simple
desire to watch her suffer and die left William reeling.

"For a long time it was just something I could fantasize
about," Frank said, panting. "I could fantasize about it
and it was okay, but then ... then when Brad got engaged to her and they started coming to the house more
she ... she became part of the family and they got married and then ... then I ... started becoming more ...
emotionally attached to her ... more ... I couldn't control the thoughts, they got stronger and ... I didn't want
her ... didn't want to someday lose control and ... and
be alone with her one afternoon or something and lose
control of myself and make an advance towards her. That
would have been trouble and ... Brad and Joan ... they
would have hated me forever. So I kept trying to suppress
those feelings, but they wouldn't go away! They just
wouldn't go away, no matter what I tried to do!"

"So you did it," William said, barely able to control the
revulsion he felt for the man who was sitting in a crumpled heap across from him. "You didn't even try seeking
psychological help, did you? Instead you raised the
money and tried to have her raped and killed so you
could own her, because you felt she owned you! The only way you could control your sick feelings over her was to
control her, and the only way to do that was to watch her
suffer and actually possess a visual documentation of
that! Isn't that right, Frank?"

Flank turned to him. "So you do understand?"

No, I don't. And I'm not even going to try to pretend to!

"I knew you wouldn't.'ihat's why I have to do this.' And
with one swift motion he stuck the barrel of the gun into
his mouth and pulled the trigger.

The gunshot was loud, and the suddenness of the act
made William yell and jump. His back hit the bathroom
door and he felt wetness in his crotch as he peed himself.
The force of the gunshot rocked Rank's head back
against the wall and he slumped down, eyes open and
staring at the ceiling. Twin fountains of blood gushed out
of his nostrils like water shooting out of a faucet. The
handgun that he had shot himself with lay in the clutches
of his limp right hand, now resting on the tiled bathroom
floor. A puddle of blood was slowly seeping outward
from the body; more blood stained the wall and mirror in
erratic splatters.

Then William's stomach convulsed and he threw up, not
even aware he was yelling and crying at the same time.

"How can I help you today?"

The ticket agent at the US Airways desk was young and
blond. She smiled sweetly at Mabel.

"Yes," Mabel said, handing over a dog-eared US Airways envelope that held her travel information. Her
hands shook, and she tried to keep the shakiness in her voice to a steady level for dramatic effect. "I was supposed to fly out yesterday morning at eight A.M., but I
missed my flight. I was visiting my sister and she had an
accident yesterday. I couldn't make it to the airport because I was in the hospital for most of the day, and I
couldn't get my nephew to drive me out here because-"

'The agent took the ticket. "Let me see if I can help!

Mabel nodded, looking crestfallen. It wasn't hard to
act her way through that; she was tired. She'd gotten
some much-needed sleep last night, but her body was
still bruised and sore from that long hike around the
desert pass yesterday. She'd gotten so much sleep that
she'd snoozed right past her originally scheduled departure time. She sniffled. "I really hope I can make it back,"
she said, her voice low and brittle. "I had to call a cab to
take me out here because we still can't locate my
nephew, and I need to get back home to get the proper
papers for my sister's will if she ... you know ... if
she..."

The ticket agent was typing information into the computer while Mabel talked, and now her smile widened.
"Don't worry about anything, Mrs. Schneider. We can put
you on the next US Airways flight out of Las Vegas into
Philadelphia."

Mabel looked up, trying to act hopeful. "Really?"

"Really." The woman typed more keystrokes into the
computer. "We have a flight leaving in thirty minutes.
Flight 293. It gets in at ten thirty-six P.M. Is that all right
with you?"

Mabel nodded. "Oh yes, that would be lovely. 'Thank
you"

"No problem! The blond woman was all smiles as she
went about preparing Mabel's ticket. Mabel smiled. If
she'd made it this far, she was going to make it home. It
had taken her three hours to pick her way around the low hills where they had intended to kill the Miller
woman, and by the time Mabel reached the area where
they had parked the cars, it was pouring rain. The SW
was gone, but the Saturn had still been parked by the
large rock. Mabel had taken the set of keys that Animal
had left with his clothes, and she had given his body a
quick inspection. He'd still been alive; he was unconscious, a knife stuck in his gut, and Mabel had seen the
weak rise and fall of his chest. She'd pulled the blade
out, then stuck it into his right eye, bringing slow, shuddering release. Then she'd licked the blade clean and
gone to where the fat guy lay slumped on the ground,
thick blood congealing out of his ears. He'd still been
alive too; at least she thought he was. It had been hard to
tell with the pouring rain and her own shot nerves,
which were screaming at her to get the hell out of there.
She'd knelt down beside him and slit his throat for good
measure. Then she'd gotten into the Saturn and, after
resting up for a moment, she'd started the engine and
driven away.

It had taken her four hours to get back to her motel.
Maneuvering through the rain had been terrifying, the
only time she had been scared in a long time. She drove
slowly, trying not to drive over large rocks if she could
help it, and tried to remember the path Tim had taken
them down. It had taken her an hour to find the road, another hour after that to find the main highway. By the
time she found the first road, the rain had flooded the
desert. She had felt panicked, hoping that she wouldn't
be washed away in a flood. Once she'd reached the main
highway, she'd felt better. The Saturn had three quarters
of a tank of gas, plenty to get her back to the Strip. She'd
headed back to Vegas, taking her time, and once she
reached the city she tried to remember where her motel
was. She remembered the name, but not the location, and one phone call to information services was enough
to put her in touch with the front desk, who gave her implicit directions. She was safe in her room by eight P.M.,
and after a hot bath she fell into bed, exhausted.