Disclaimer: See Chapter One

A/N: Again, thanks for the wonderful reviews. Positive comments really give a writer inspiration to keep writing.

Also, it appears I have misspelled Larry's last name in the first chapter. I will correct that from this point forward.

Four

Parked in a shady spot behind the Traveler's Stop convenience store, Larry Fleinhardt stood silently beside his car, his elbow resting on the top of it while his fingers tugged absently at his lower lip. His position offered him a clear view of the final length of highway 13, and over the past hour, his eyes had been focused attentively on the stretch of asphalt, waiting for a solitary figure to materialize. Civilization was encroaching on the desert, and a housing development was being constructed on the highway near the convenience store, but none of the few vehicles that he had occasionally seen coming and going was the bicycle he was looking for.

With a sense of growing trepidation in his heart, the CalSci professor withdrew his cell phone from its belt clip, as he had done five times during he past thirty minutes, and called Charlie's cell, but once again, as he had gotten the past five times he had called, the computerized voice informed him that the number he was trying to reach was unavailable.

As he tucked the phone back into the holder, Laurel Wilson emerged around the corner of the convenience store carrying two tall cups of lemonade that she had just purchased. "Any sign of him?" she asked as she offered one of them to him.

"No, no sign at all." Ignoring the cup of lemonade that she extended toward him, he rested his chin in his hand and gazed up the highway again. "Something's wrong," he said, his brow furrowed in worry.

"Maybe he forgot," Laurel suggested. "You know how Professor Eppes is sometimes. He's . . . well, let's just say he has the ability to tune out the rest of the world when he has something on his mind. He could have ridden right past this convenience store and never noticed it was here!"

Larry shook his head slowly in disagreement. "He can be forgetful about some things, but I don't think he would forget about this. He's been riding a long way; he's going to be hot and tired and looking forward to concluding this expedition."

"Maybe he got here earlier than expected, and called his brother to pick him up."

"That would imply that he miscalculated the length and duration of the trip, and the odds are very much against that." At her urging he finally accepted the cup of lemonade, but instead of sipping on the straw that protruded through the plastic lid, he set it on top of the car. He scratched the worried creases in his broad forehead with his fingertips. "Even on the off chance that he had called his brother, why would he turn off his cell phone?"

For this, Laurel had no answer. "Isn't he an FBI agent? Maybe you should call him."

Larry nodded, slowly. "I know. I was just thinking I should do that, but I just kept hoping . . ." He did not complete the sentence. Reaching for the phone again, he withdrew it from its clip again and punched the button that displayed the various phone numbers that were stored in its memory. He kept Don Eppes' number in case of emergency, but he had hoped he would never have to use it. Pressing the down button on the keypad to scroll down the list to the proper number, he highlighted the FBI agent's number, then pressed the "call" button.

After two rings, it was answered, and an authoritative voice on the other end said, "Eppes."

"Don, this is Larry Fleinhardt. I'm really sorry to bother you with this, but I was wondering if you have heard from Charles in the past few hours."

He heard a brief pause and the squeak of a chair as Don Eppes sat up straight. "No, Larry, I haven't. Wasn't today the day he was going to take that bike ride in the desert?"

"Yeah." Larry's eyes drifted up the abandoned highway again, hoping beyond hope that he would see a bicycle approaching, but saw nothing except the dirt, rocks, and desert plant life beyond the housing development. As he watched, a construction crew was wrapping things up for the evening, getting into their vehicles and driving away. "Well, I'm at the point where I was supposed to pick him up, but there is no sign of him. I've called his cell phone several times, but I keep getting a message that it's unavailable."

"Maybe he forgot to charge the battery," Don suggested.

"No, I saw him take it off the charger myself before we left."

There was silence on the other end of the phone as Don pondered the information that Larry had just provided. He knew his father had been worried about this trip, but he hated to jump to conclusions where Charlie was concerned. After all, he was a grown man capable of making his own decisions, and he resented being treated like the baby brother. "What time was he supposed to have met you?"

"Almost an hour ago."

"Well, that isn't very long, and it was a long trip to make on a bicycle. Maybe he miscalculated his time of arrival," Don suggested.

"Don, have you ever known Charles to miscalculate anything?"

Don was quiet for a moment again, then admitted, "No, not with the proper data."

"Even if he had miscalculated, I don't think he would have been more than a half hour off at the very most. You know how precise his calculations are." He glanced over his shoulder toward the sun that was sinking toward the western horizon. "You know, it's going to be dark in a few hours. I'm worried, Don."

"Okay. Let's not jump to any conclusions just yet. The highway he's on is rarely used, so I doubt if there has been any kind of vehicular accident involving anyone else. He might have had some other kind of problem with the bike, or maybe the mileages listed on the map he made his calculations from were incorrect. Have you back-tracked his route to see if maybe he's stranded somewhere?"

"I was just about to do that, but I wanted to let you know what was going on first."

"I'm glad you did. Let me know what you find out."

"Okay." Larry pressed the "end" button, and slipped the phone back into its pocket on his belt. After removing the cup of lemonade from the top of his car, he turned to Laurel and said, "I'm going to look for him."

Laurel looked startled. "Larry, it will be dark in a few hours. What happens if you get out there and get stranded, too?"

"I have my cell phone, a reliable car, and a full tank of gas. I can't just leave him out there. He could be hurt or something."

Laurel did not ask what the "or something" meant. She glanced briefly, longingly, up the adjacent highway that lead toward home. She had been hoping for a quiet, romantic evening with Larry, perhaps sharing a hot bath and a good meal, but she understood that circumstances had nullified that possibility, at least for tonight. "I'll go with you, then."

"Would you mind?" he asked, gratefully. "If something has happened, I might need help."

"All right." She squeezed his wrist warmly. "I'm sure he's okay; probably just on foot somewhere because that old bicycle broke down."

"Yeah, I'm sure you're right," he agreed, but his positive words belied his concern. If that was the case, why hadn't he used his cell phone to call?

They got into the car, and Larry pulled out onto the lonely stretch of highway that led toward Las Vegas.

xxxxxxxxxx

After hanging up with Larry, Don immediately called Charlie's cell phone to verify that the phone was not in working order, and received the same recorded message that Larry had described. With his thumb, he pressed the "end" button, terminating the call. For several moments, he sat quietly gazing at the keypad, his brow furrowed in thought. "What are you up to, Charlie?" he murmured.

He was so deep in thought that he did not hear David Sinclair enter the office until he spoke. "Here's my report on that Rosemont case," the handsome black man said as he placed a file folder on Don's desk.

Don looked up, startled.

David nearly laughed at Don's jumpiness, but then saw the concern on his boss's face and thought better of it. "Are you all right?" he asked. "You look worried."

"Nah, it's probably nothing." He shrugged and leaned back in his chair. "Then again, it could be something. With Charlie, you never know. For the past few days, he's been worked up over this bike ride he's been planning. Something to do with a sponsored endurance thing that's coming up at CalSci. It's all he's been talking about, working on these formulas and equations to figure out how long it will take, how far it is, and a bunch of other things that I don't understand."

David smiled fondly. He liked Charlie. Then again, everyone seemed to like the mild-mannered professor. "To me, it's all just a string of numbers and symbols, but I guess they mean something to him."

"Yeah. He's been driving Dad and me absolutely nuts about it in ways that only Charlie can."

"Little brothers can be a pain at times."

"You got that right. Anyway, he decided he wanted to take this preliminary bike ride all alone down old state highway 13, of all places, to prepare for the race."

David shrugged, failing to comprehend the significance of that.

"I forgot, you aren't from around here. The locals who are familiar with that highway call it 'Satan's Ribbon'. It used to be a fairly common route between L.A. and Las Vegas before they built the Interstate, but now it is the most desolate, unused stretch of road in the state."

"So why did Charlie pick that particular stretch of road to ride on?"

Don raised his hands as if in defeat. "That is anybody's guess. It's impossible to figure out how my brother's mind works, sometimes. Most of the time, in fact," he added. "Maybe he wants to prove something; I don't know. Anyway, his friend Larry was supposed to pick him up an hour ago at a designated place, but Charlie hasn't shown up yet."

Concern flickered across David's face. "Think something's happened?"

"I don't know. He probably just had a problem with the bike. Larry's backtracking his route now to see if he's sitting on the side of the road somewhere." He flipped the cell phone closed and leaned forward again, resting his elbows on his desk. "I'm just trying to decide whether to call Dad now, or wait until I hear back from Larry."

"I can't help you with that decision, but if you need someone to help look for him, let me know."

"Thanks, David. I appreciate that," Don said, sincerely. He glanced at the clock on the wall. It was after six thirty, past time to wrap things up for the day, so it meant a lot that his colleague was willing to put in his personal time to help find his brother. He watched as the black man walked out of the office, then turned his attention back to the cell phone in his hand.

He did not want to worry his father if Charlie turned out to be all right, but on the other hand if something serious had happened he knew Alan would be angry that he had kept it from him. Flipping open the cell phone again, he brought up the numbers he had stored in its memory, and his thumb lingered over his father's number. After a moment of indecision, he pressed the number, and waited.

After several rings, Alan's voice answered, "Hello?"

"Hi, Dad."

"Don!" He could sense the smile on his father's face upon hearing his older son's voice. "I'm glad you called. I was wondering if you would want to come by and have supper with me. Charlie said he and Larry will probably stop for pizza, and I would really like the company."

"Um, Dad, I . . . " He stopped, wishing he had not called. How do you tell your father that your younger brother might be missing?

Alan heard the hesitation and the unusual discomfort in his son's voice, and understood that he was calling to tell him something that was difficult to say. "Don, is something wrong?"

There was no backing out of it, now. "I'm not really sure. Larry just called and said that Charlie hasn't shown up yet at the convenience store where they were supposed to meet."

Alan's heart flopped over with a sickening feeling. I knew it, he thought to himself. He glanced quickly at his watch. "He was supposed to be there an hour ago. Has Larry called him? Is he answering his cell phone?"

"Something seems to be wrong with it. Larry keeps getting a message that the number is unavailable. I called it myself just before I called you, and I get the same recording. Larry is backtracking Charlie's route right now to see if he can find him, but I just thought I should let you know what's going on."

"I'm glad you did. But he only needs to backtrack as far as the Oasis rest stop. Charlie called me from there a little after lunch to rub it in that he was doing okay. It's gone out of business, but he rested there for a while. Just before he hung up, he said he was getting ready to start out again."

"Okay, so he did complete the first half of the trip," Don mused. "That will cut the search area in half. Thanks, Dad. I'll call him with that information."

"Keep me posted."

"I will, Dad. And don't worry! I'm sure he's fine. His bike probably just broke down or something."

Don disconnected the call, then found Larry's number on the caller I.D., and called him back.

Driving down the road, Larry shifted slightly on his seat to retrieve the phone from the belt clip again. He glanced quickly at the number on the display, and recognized it. "Hello?"

"Larry, its Don. I just called Dad, and he said that Charlie called him shortly after noon from the Desert Oasis rest stop, which was roughly the halfway point on his trip. So, we know that he made it at least that far. When you reach that point, if you haven't found him, I want you to give me a call back. No, wait. Just call me regardless of whether you find him or not. I want to know that he's okay."

"Will do," Larry promised. Disconnecting the call, he placed the phone on the seat beside him within easy reach, and explained to Laurel what Don had just told him.

Reaching out, she placed an affectionate hand on his arm. "I'm sure he's okay, Larry. He probably just broke down out there somewhere, and is waiting for someone to come pick him up."

"I'm sure you're right," he agreed, wishing he felt as confident as his words sounded. He squinted through the windshield, his eyes carefully scanning the road and the areas alongside it, taking note of each shrub in case Charlie was resting in the shade beside it. The sun was sinking lower in the sky behind him, and after a short time, he removed his sunglasses so that he could see the objects in a more natural setting. "This is such desolate country," he said, more to himself than to Laurel. "Very hot and dry. Heat exhaustion could be a factor here. Not to mention dehydration."

"Don't go expecting the worst, Larry," she urged. "He has a jug of water. If he's been using it sparingly, it should last him until we get there."

"Thank you for coming with me," he said, sincerely.

"Well, this isn't quite the evening I had planned for us, but that can wait. I'm glad I'm here."

He was too tired and worried to offer the teasing comments he wanted to make regarding their blossoming relationship following one "primal moment" a few months earlier, but she understood.

They fell silent again, concentrating on searching the areas on either side of the car as they traveled mile after mile after mile along the narrow two lane road. Traveling well below the speed limit, Larry and Laurel, friends, colleagues, hiking partners, and recently lovers, searched the desolate landscape for any signs of the missing mathematician. They saw only the dry, dusty terrain and the desert plant life, and by keeping their eyes riveted on the areas at the sides of the road, they passed right by the large X on the road without ever seeing it. All the while, the sun was setting lower in the sky behind them.

Finally, just as the sun was sinking over the western horizon, they saw the cluster of buildings and the rather dilapidated sign announcing The Desert Oasis. Larry turned on the blinker to announce his intention to turn into the parking lot, even though there was no one around to see it. Slowly, he pulled alongside the bank of pumps at the service station, and turned off the engine. For several moments, they sat in silence and gazed at the abandoned establishments.

"Wow, this place has been vacant for years!" Laurel exclaimed, breaking the silence with such abruptness that Larry felt his body flinch in response to it. "Look at those old pumps! I haven't seen pumps like that in more than ten years! Look, there isn't even a credit card slot."

"It's like stepping into the past, isn't it? The ravages of time have not been kind to this place." He opened the car door and got out. Laurel did the same on the other side. "Charles?" Larry called. "Charles, are you here?"

When there was no answer, he leaned back inside the vehicle and pressed the car horn. The sound it made was loud beneath the awning, yet it seemed to dissipate quickly, carried away by the heat and the breeze, and as it faded, it was replaced by the light wind whispering in the rafters.

Larry nervously dragged his fingers through his hair and turned slowly in a circle, waiting for the expected reply from his friend. After several long moments, his heart sank with the reality that Charlie was not present. "He's not here. If he was close enough to hear it, he would have responded. This is not good." Reaching into the car again, he retrieved the cell phone from the seat and called the FBI agent again.

Don must have had the phone waiting on the desk top, anticipating the call, for his response was instant. "Eppes."

"Don, I'm at the Oasis now. Charles is not here, and we didn't see any sign of him or the bicycle on the way up here."

"Damn it," Don muttered, more to himself than the professor. "I was hoping that if he had an accident of some kind that he would have hiked back to the Oasis to wait for someone to pick him up."

"Unless he was too far out, in which case he would have started walking toward the Traveler's Stop," Larry added. "Or else found a shady spot at the side of the road and waited for us to come get him. In any case, we should have come across him on the road. Do you think someone might have picked him up?"

"I have no idea, but I can't rule out that possibility. Have you seen much traffic on that highway?"

"Not a single vehicle."

Don sighed. Leaning his elbows on his desk, he drummed his fingertips on the desktop, trying to think of what the next step should be, especially in regard to the growing darkness. "How much light do you have out there?"

"The sun's almost gone. We have ten, maybe fifteen minutes of sunlight left."

"That isn't anywhere near enough time to get a search team in place before dark. I think you should start heading back this way."

"Don't' you think we should search the area?" Larry asked, watching as Laurel walked away from the service station and was looking around, shading her eyes against the setting sun in the west. He could hear her calling Charlie's name.

"It's almost dark," Don said in response to Larry's question. "Searching a large area of the desert is difficult enough during the day, but it's impossible at night. You would only get yourself lost. We'll head out early in the morning."

Larry hesitated. "That means he'll have to spend the night out here. Alone."

Don grimaced at the very thought of his younger brother spending the night in the hostile environment, particularly on the chance that he might be injured. "I don't know what else we can do. He's my brother and I'm as worried about him as you are, but I can't risk someone falling off a cliff or down a ravine that they couldn't see because of the dark. I'll start getting a search party organized, but it'll take time."

Larry was forced to concede that the FBI agent was right. He squirmed uncomfortably in his concern for his friend and colleague. "You're right. I just feel so helpless."

"I know," Don agreed. "So do I."

Larry hesitated briefly, reluctant to even speak the words, but knew that they needed to be said, "Don, what if he had an accident? Maybe someone happened by and struck him, or maybe they came across him hurt. They might have taken him to the hospital. It would explain why he hasn't phoned. The phone might have been damaged or lost."

"I was thinking the same thing, but didn't want to say it," Don admitted. "I'll notify the local police departments to be on the lookout for him and check with the area hospitals. Just in case. If he's not at any of them, we'll head out at daylight."

"All right. We'll start heading back. And if you find out anything, please let me know."

"I will," Don promised.

Larry hung up the phone and placed it on the seat of the car. With a sigh of despair, he glanced at the western horizon, willing the sun to stay in place a while longer, long enough to conduct a search of the immediate area. Ignoring his silent pleas, the sun continued its downward drift.

Leaving the car, he walked toward Laurel, joining her at the top of a sloping rise of ground. From there, they could see a great distance, but there was no sign of the missing mathematician.

"Don thinks we should head back," he told her. "There's nothing we can do after dark. He's putting together a search party, and they'll head out at first light."

Somberly, they walked back to the car, and after one final visual inspection of the abandoned rest stop, Larry drove the car back toward Los Angeles.

TBC