Almost from the day he came back to Desert Grove with his bride, the gossips said Melissa had married Gene for his money. Martin and Patty Alvarez saw a lot of the couple and it had been Patty's opinion that Melissa was never in love with her husband-he was someone safe and comfortable who would worship her and never betray her.
Alvarez poured Arnold a tall Scotch and forced him to take a drink. When Gene was calm enough to speak coherently, he told Martin what had happened that day.
"Melissa left for work this morning. I went to the office. Around nine-thirty, Marge called from Mel's chambers to ask if Melissa was sick." Gene looked up, his face the very picture of despair. "She never made it to work, Martin."
Martin's first thought was that she had run out on Gene and the tedium of Desert Grove. He knew Melissa had grown tired of Gene and the town fairly quickly. Martin based his conclusion on the fact that she'd come on to him at his Fourth of July barbecue. Martin had rebuffed her gently and had never told anyone about the pass, but he watched her closely after that and noticed her flirting with more than one man.
"Marge said no one had seen Melissa at the courthouse. I called home, thinking she was sick and had gone back to the house. There was no answer, so I drove home in case she was sleeping or had fainted or . . ."
"And she wasn't there?"
Gene shook his head. It was still hard for him to talk.
"But all her clothes were there. So were the suitcases. There wasn't any note. She hasn't run off, Martin."
A feeling of dread began to grow in Martin's stomach.
"Did you call the sheriff?"
"No. What would I have said? I mean, she was only gone for a few hours. I was worried, but after I called the hospital and they said she wasn't there, I kept thinking that she would call and explain what happened. The sheriff wasn't going to do anything, anyway, until there was proof that something had happened to her."
"And now there is?" Martin asked fearfully.
"There . . . there was a call." Gene stopped and caught his breath. "The voice was disguised. It was so low that I couldn't understand it at first."
Gene started to cry again. Finally, he choked out what he had to say.
"They have her. It's the people who took Patty."
Martin felt sick.
"It's the same people," Gene sobbed. "The caller said so. They'll kill her if I call the police. What should I do? I love her. I've got to save her."
Gene looked at Alvarez for an answer, but Martin couldn't think straight.
"Did they let you talk to Melissa?"
"No. I asked, but they refused."
"What do they want?"
"Seventy-five thousand dollars or they're going to kill her."
"Can you get your hands on that much money?"
"Just. I've got a retirement account. The money means nothing to me. It's Melissa. If they kill her . . ."
"What are you supposed to do?"
"The kidnappers are going to contact me around five tonight at my house. They said they're watching me and they'll know if I go to the cops or have a tap put on my phone."
"What do you want me to do, Gene?"
Arnold raised his eyes to Alvarez's face. It was a block of stone.
"I can't risk going to the police or the FBI. Look at the mess they made in your case."
Martin nodded. Gene leaned forward, his hands clasped like a supplicant before a king.
"Can you bring them the money, Martin?" Arnold looked down. "I . . . I'm not brave. Look at me. What could I do to save her? But you're tough. If there was a chance, you could fight them . . ."
His voice trailed off. The plea was pathetic and desperate.
"That makes no sense at all, Gene. I'm no Rambo, and these guys won't fight fair. This isn't like one of those kung fu movies where the villain throws down his weapons and fights the hero hand to hand. They'll have guns and they'll shoot me in the back if it suits them. They shot it out with the FBI."
"I'm sorry. You're right, I don't know what I was thinking." Gene sounded thoroughly defeated. "I have to take the chance that Melissa is alive and that they'll return her to me if I pay them."
Alvarez looked at the clock on his desk. It was a little after three. His mind was racing. He doubted that Melissa Arnold was still alive, but that didn't mean that he would let his friend deal with her killers. They were the people who murdered his Patty and this was a chance for revenge.
"Let me take you home," Alvarez said calmly, giving none of his feelings away. "I'll stay with you. Let's see what they say. Then we'll decide what to do."
8
By the time the call came, the money was waiting inside a gym bag and Martin had reached a decision. Gene had the receiver pressed to his ear before the second ring. Martin heard him say, "I understand" and "Yes," then, "Is my wife-" and knew by the way Gene's features crumbled that they had hung up on him without letting him talk to Melissa or assuring him that she was all right.
"Gene?" Martin asked softly.
Arnold stared at the phone.
"What did they say?"
"There's a side road off the highway." He sounded dazed. "It's near the bridge that crosses the McPherson River where they have the picnic grounds."
"I know it."
The McPherson River was twenty miles from Desert Grove in a deep canyon. The Park Service had developed a picturesque area near it. Rafters set out from a small park with a picnic area. Last summer, Martin and Patty had rafted that river with Gene and Melissa.
"Tonight, as soon as it gets dark, I'm supposed to drive up the road for a mile and park the car near the trail to the river. They want me to walk down to the river and follow the trail until it curves around the cliff side. I'm supposed to leave the money there and drive home."
"What then?"
"They didn't say."
It was a strange plan. The trail from the road to the picnic area was the only way in or out. On the other hand, at night, the location was pretty isolated and the kidnapper would see anyone who tried to follow Gene.
"I'm going to take them the money," Martin said.
Gene looked startled. "Forget that. I was crazy to ask you before."
"Someone has to wait here in case Melissa comes home."
"I can't ask you to do this for me."
"You're a good friend, Gene. And I'm not asking for your permission."
Gene started to argue, but the determination he saw on Martin's face stopped him.
"Thank you," he whispered. "I'll never forget this."
It was cold in the desert that night, and Martin was wearing jeans and a windbreaker to fight the chill. The bag of money bumped against his legs as he descended toward the river. Tucked in his waistband was a licensed .45-caliber automatic. A hunting knife hung from his belt in a scabbard. Martin had a simple plan. He would kneecap the person who came for the money, then torture him until he told Martin where to find Melissa Arnold and named everyone involved in the kidnappings.
In sunlight, this was a beautiful spot-high red cliffs, carefully cultivated greenery at the jump-off spot, and the always soothing shush of the rapidly flowing water. At night, with the possibility of a killer lurking in the dark, the spot lost a lot of its glamour.
There was no light except the stars and a half-moon, so Martin moved slowly. It was about a quarter mile until the cliff jutted out where the river turned. The first rapids, a gentle class two, was a short distance past the bend. The trail narrowed where the river curved. A little ways on it dwindled to a footpath. Martin walked past the curve of the rock and looked around. There was scrub brush and not much else except for the high cliff wall. If someone was lurking behind one of the many outcroppings of rock, he wouldn't be able to see them. Martin left the money then walked back along the path and hid in the shadows.