Disclaimer: See Chapter One

A/N: We have seen Alan inside Don's office before, but I'm not sure if it has ever been specified whether or not he has a visitor's pass or whether his son escorts him up. For this story, assume that he has a pass and that security knows him, because I wanted to get him into Don's office unannounced.

Six

"All right. Thank you very much," Don said into the telephone. Replacing it on its cradle, he leaned back in his chair and rubbed his weary eyes with his fingers. "Nothing," he announced. "He's not at any of the area hospitals." There was relief in his voice that Charlie was not lying injured in one of the hospitals, but also a note of disappointment that his brother had not been found.

Still looking crisp and fresh in his dark suit and tie, David glanced at the clock on the wall. The hands had moved past twelve-thirty, and were slowly making their way toward one o'clock. They had been hard at work for hours, calling all the hospitals, morgues, and precincts in and around the Los Angeles area, inquiring about accident victims. It was unknown if Charlie was carrying any identification on him, so they covered all angles, including unidentified patients or victims in their investigation, but always the answer was negative. No one matching Charlie's description had been found.

Turning his attention back to his partner, David watched as Don closed his eyes and rubbed his temples with his fingertips, as if nursing a headache. The special agent had long since shed his suit coat and opened his collar, and his crumpled shirt added to his haggard appearance. "Don, you're exhausted. Why don't you try to get some rest? I'll wake you if anything turns up."

Don looked up, his fingers pausing against his temples, and stared at him as if he was out of his mind for even suggesting such a thing, yet he understood that David was concerned about him. He was very tired, his head was throbbing, his eyes felt like fried eggs, and he knew he probably looked like something the cat had dragged in, but he knew that sleep would be impossible to achieve, so he shook his head as he opened his desk drawer and removed the bottle of aspirin that he kept there. "My brother is missing, and may be hurt. There is no way I could rest until I know he's okay." He popped two white tablets in his mouth and washed it down with a glass of water.

David nodded his understanding. "I've checked the area police departments that might have been notified of an accident, and they have no information to give us either," he said. "No one, civilian or otherwise, has reported an accident of any kind on or near Highway 13."

"I didn't expect there would be. Dad insists that no one travels that highway anymore, so the chances of him being struck by another vehicle or someone happening by and finding him are pretty remote." Leaning back in his chair, Don's eyes drifted to the map of Southern California that he had pinned to the bulletin board, taking particular notice of the huge expanse of the Mojave Desert. "No, he's out there, somewhere." After a long moment, he glanced appreciatively at his partner. "I appreciate you sticking around, David. It would have taken me all night to get through all these phone numbers by myself."

David shrugged and waved away the comment. "Hey, I wouldn't be anywhere else. I'm glad to help. So where do we go from here? I'm fresh out of ideas."

Don shook his head slowly, his eyes still fixed on the map. After a few moments, he rose from his chair and went to the map and inserted a push-pin to mark the location of the Desert Oasis. "Okay, we know he made it this far," he mused, speaking as much to himself as to his partner. Another push-pin was inserted at the location of the Traveler's Stop. "And this is where he was supposed to meet Larry, but never made it. Something happened between these two points; something that prevented him from calling for help; something that apparently disabled his cell phone."

"You're still thinking an accident of some kind," David guessed.

"It's the only thing that makes any sense. Something must have happened with the bike. It might have broken down, or maybe an animal ran across the road and caused him to lose control of it, or any number of other mishaps. Traveling at a high rate of speed, it could have been a pretty serious accident. The phone may have been dropped or crushed, rendering it unusable and thereby preventing him from calling for help."

"Which brings us back to the same question; where is he? And why didn't Larry find him or the bike on the road?"

"That is the question, isn't it?" Don asked. Trying to solve the mystery, his eyes continued to study the map, following the thin gray line that represented Highway 13. "If he was not incapacitated, he might have tried to walk. But which direction?"

"Well, the Oasis is closed, so he couldn't expect to find help there. Most likely he would go toward the Traveler's Stop," David suggested.

"Not necessarily," Don said, slowly, his brow furrowed with concentration. "The sun is pretty hot out in the desert. If he was reasonably close to the Oasis, he might have backtracked to find shade, knowing that someone would eventually come along looking for him." He slowly traced the highway with his forefinger, starting at the Traveler's Stop and working his way back toward the Oasis. Noticing how the road made a long, gradual curve, a scenario began to form in his mind, so strong and so abrupt that David actually saw the brightness that flickered in his eyes, driving away the weariness with sudden alertness. "He cut across country!" he said, abruptly. "Of course! That's how Larry missed him! He wasn't on the road."

David moved closer for a better look at the map. "He wouldn't leave the road, would he?"

"I think he might. See here? How the highway curves back toward the Oasis? By cutting across country, it looks like he could have shaved at least a mile and a half off the walk. He would have known that, and in the sun and the heat, I think he would have utilized that to shorten his walk."

"So, do you think he wandered out into the desert and got lost?"

"Not if he was fully functional. I'm learning never to underestimate my brother. To him, everything is math, and that includes finding direction. Once, when we were kids, I went hiking with some of my friends. We didn't find out until we were well under way that Charlie had followed and was tagging along behind us. To make a long story short, we ended up getting lost. It was Charlie who found the way back. He was something like eight years old at the time, and it was one of the first times I started to respect his abilities."

David was smiling, enjoying the story. "He's really something, isn't he?"

"Yeah. That he is. I asked him later how he did it, and he told me he was charting the sun's path in his mind, but he wasn't boasting about it; he just stated it like it was the most natural fact in the world, like anyone would think to do it." He turned back to the map, resting his forearm against the wall beside it. "No, the only way he would get lost would be if he was disoriented from the accident or ---"

"Accident? What accident?" Alan Eppes asked from the door to Don's office.

Both agents turned around, surprised to see the senior Eppes standing there, his visitor's pass clipped to his shirt pocket. He was staring at them with wide eyes, his hair standing wildly on end as if he had run his fingers through it repeatedly from worry.

Don glanced at his watch, taking quick note of the time. "Dad, it's nearly one o'clock. You didn't need to come down here."

"What's this about an accident?" Alan asked, ignoring the question as he stepped into the office. "Have you found something out? Did Charlie have an accident?"

"We're not sure," Don replied. "What are you doing here?"

"What do you think I'm doing here?" Alan challenged. "Did you really think I could sit at home doing nothing when my son is out there somewhere? When I called your apartment, I got no answer, so I knew you would be here. Why didn't you call me? What have you found out?"

"We haven't found out much, I'm afraid," David told him. "We've been calling all the area hospitals and other facilities to see if someone matching Charlie's description was brought in, but that turned out to be a dead end."

"I told Don repeatedly that no one travels that road!" Alan retorted. "I would have been surprised if someone had found him and brought him in."

"Well, apparently you were right about that," Don agreed. "Larry didn't see a single vehicle on that road when he went looking for him. I think he's still out there in the desert."

"Alone," Alan added, a frightened expression in his eyes.

"Dad, don't torture yourself. I'm sure Charlie's fine. My best guess is that he had an accident of some kind, probably right in this area here," he said, pointing to the location on the map just before the road began its curve. "It most likely disabled his phone."

Alan withdrew his reading glasses from his shirt pocket and held them up to his eyes to study the position on the map that Don had indicated. "What are you basing this assumption on?" he asked. "Larry found no sign of him."

"I know. I have no conclusive evidence to back up my theory. All I have are logic and deduction and a rather rudimentary knowledge of the way his mind works. He called you from the Oasis, saying that he was getting ready to start out again, so we know that whatever happened, happened somewhere between the Oasis and the Traveler's Stop."

Alan nodded in agreement. "Okay."

"If he broke down close to the Traveler's Stop, he probably would have started walking toward it or stayed where he was, knowing that Larry would start looking for him when he was late. I'm thinking he broke down closer to the Oasis."

Alan shrugged. "He still would have known that someone would be out to pick him up."

"Yes, but it would have been earlier in the afternoon. And it would have been hours before anyone would have realized that he was missing. Would you want to sit in the hot sun for four or five hours waiting for help to arrive? I think Charlie decided to walk back to the Oasis. The buildings would provide adequate shade while he waited for someone to come and get him. If he wasn't too far along on the trip, it would definitely have made the walk back worth his time. See how the road curves toward the Oasis? I think he probably cut across country to trim his walking distance. That would explain why Larry didn't see him on the road."

Alan continued to scrutinize the map with a worried frown, and after a long moment, he nodded his head, accepting the probability of the speculation. "There is a lot of wilderness there." Lowering the glasses, he looked directly into Don's face. "You know, he was getting low on water when he called me at noon."

Don grimaced, clearly caught off guard with this new revelation. "I was unaware of that. How much did he have with him?"

"He took only one bottle. He intended to buy another one at the Oasis when he stopped for lunch, but he wasn't counting on it being out of business." Noticing the solemn concern that had appeared on Don's face, he added, "There! Now you see why I'm so worried? If he did cut across country, how are we going to find him? I just feel so damn helpless!"

There was a note of panic in Alan's voice, and Don attempted to calm him by placing both hands on his father's shoulders. "Dad, Charlie's smart. If he's been using the water sparingly, he may be okay for a while yet. At first light we'll head out to the Oasis and start searching the area. If he was making his way toward it, there is a possibility that he will have reached it by now, and might even be waiting for us."

"And if he's not?"

"If he's not, I'll have a chopper scour the area between the rest stop and the convenience store for any sign of him."

"Donny, what if he's hurt? In the desert, people die of dehydration. It will be worse if he's hurt. He may not be thinking clearly. It's only been a year . . ." His voice trailed, then he added. "I can't lose one of my sons, too."

Don's grip on his father's shoulders tightened. "We're going to find him, Dad. I promise; we'll find him."

Alan returned his glasses to his pocket and looked at his older son through fearful eyes, wondering what condition they would find Charlie in.

xxxxxx

Charlie lay quietly on his side on the cool linoleum floor of the abandoned restaurant, his arm folded beneath his head to form a pillow. It was not the most comfortable position. His arm was going numb from the weight of his head resting on it, and the floor was very hard against his shoulder and hip. Shifting position, he rolled over onto his back, seeking a more tolerable arrangement of his body, but that was not much better. The hard floor was not comfortable to the contusion on his hip. Finally, he reached the conclusion that linoleum was just too hard to sleep on, so, with a soft sigh, he sat up and leaned his back against the counter. Stretching his legs out in front of him, he rested his hands lightly on his abdomen. Sitting was only a slight improvement from lying down, but at least they were safe for the moment, and the temperatures were cooling down a bit, providing them with welcomed relief from the heat.

In the darkness of the building's interior, he could see Erica's motionless form lying on the floor beside the wall, but he was unable to determine if she was sleeping or not. He hoped she was. The poor child had survived a harrowing day and was clearly exhausted, as was he, but he had found himself unable to relax. His stomach was a hollow void that gnawed hungrily, demanding to be filled. He had eaten nothing substantial since breakfast, and he had eaten sparingly then, eager to be on the road. His mouth felt uncomfortably dry. And he was worried about what the coming dawn would bring.

Doyle Jessup was sleeping just across the parking lot from him and the girl, a disturbing thought now that he had taken the time to consider the ramifications of his decision to spend the night inside the building. The alternative was equally troubling: stumbling around in the desert in the middle of the night could have proven extremely dangerous, for it was not only the rough terrain that had concerned him, but snakes and scorpions as well as other creatures resided in the harsh environment. Plus, he knew that Don would probably begin his search for him at this rest stop come morning, for their father would have told him that he had made it this far. He could only hope that Jessup either failed to search the restaurant, or that Don would arrive early. Very early.

After a long time, he saw a movement on the floor as Erica lifted her head. He could feel her peering through the darkness at him. "Are you asleep?" she asked, timidly.

"No. The floor is too hard, and my mind won't settle down enough to relax," he replied.

"Mine either. And I'm awful thirsty. Do you think there might be a water fountain or a water faucet here?"

Both of them were starting to feel the early symptoms of dehydration, but unfortunately he knew there was nothing to be done about it. "I wish there was, but this place has been closed for years. They would have turned off the water a long time ago. Don will probably bring some when he comes looking for me. Think you can hold out a few more hours?"

She sighed with disappointment. "I guess." Moving slowly with fatigue, she pushed herself into a seated position, and pressed her back against the wall, facing him. "Mom and Dad are probably worried about me."

"I imagine they are," he agreed. "Try not to think about that. Just think about how happy they will be when we finally get you back home."

"What if nobody comes?" she asked, fearfully. "They don't know where to look for us! I don't really even know where we are, but I know we're a long way from San Bernadino! What happens if they don't come?"

"My brother knows where to look for me," Charlie told her. "I was riding my bike down this highway, training for a race that's coming up at the university. Remember, I told you that Don is an FBI agent, and he knew I would be on this road. They were probably looking for us earlier this evening, when I didn't show up for my ride home, but they would have had to call off the search because of darkness. They'll be back in the morning, I promise."

"You're not just saying that to make me feel better?"

"No, I'm not just saying that. Don will come." There was conviction in his voice when he added, "He'll come."

In the thin, silvery stripes of moonlight that managed to penetrate the cracks in the plywood that covered the windows and doors, he saw her nod her head, accepting his promise of rescue.

"Do you have any brothers or sisters?" he asked. "If you do, I bet they'll be glad to see you, too."

"No he won't. I have a brother, but we hate each other. He'd probably be happy if I never came home."

Charlie laughed, softly. "Believe me, he cares more about you than you realize."

"I'll believe that when I see it. Are you married?"

"No, no. I'm not married."

"How come?"

Charlie chuckled softly. "My dad wants to know the answer to that as well, and I don't really have an answer. I just haven't really found the time for dating, much. Plus, I'm a bit . . . how would you put it? I guess you could say I'm a bit eccentric."

"What does that mean?"

"It means I'm different, not like other people. I get so involved in what I'm doing that I don't even know when other people are around. Someone can be talking to me, and I won't even hear them; won't even know they're there. Girls don't seem to like it because they think I'm ignoring them. It's hard to explain, but I just get so deep in what I'm doing that I somehow manage to shut out everything else."

"I do that sometimes, too. Charlie?"

"Hm?"

"That man out there. You've said his name a few times. Do you know him?"

"Not personally, no; but I know who he is. I consult with the FBI, sometimes. You know, help them solve crimes in which I can apply certain mathematical equations. Anyway, I saw his case file on Don's desk. His name is Doyle Jessup, and he's a prison escapee."

"What was he put in jail for?"

He hesitated, reluctant to divulge the severity of Jessup's crimes to a girl who had almost been his fourth victim. "Well, he attacked and kidnapped several young girls."

Erica seemed to realize that there was more to the story than he was saying. There was a long moment of silent before she asked, "Did he kill them?"

Charlie gazed at her silhouette through the darkness. It was not his wish to upset her, but he did not believe in answering a question with a lie. The truth could be toned down just a bit, in order to cushion the severity of it. Withholding the fact that he had brutally beaten every one of his victims, he said, "One of them died later of injuries he inflicted on her. He was tried and convicted of her murder."

"He would have killed me too," she said with certainty. "I know he would've."

"How did he get you?" he asked, curiously.

"I was at a slumber party at a friend's house, and I was walking home the next morning. It was only a couple of blocks away, and I walk to her house all the time. I was cutting through the park when he grabbed me. I kinda saw his car as I walked past it, but I didn't really pay any attention to it. People go to the park to jog and walk their dogs, so I didn't think he was someone who was going to hurt me. He came up behind me and put something over my head, like a sack made out of cloth, and he tied me up and put me in the trunk."

"No one saw this? No one heard you screaming?"

"I don't know if anyone else was in the park. I guess I wasn't paying enough attention. Mom always tells me to keep my eyes and ears open when I'm by myself, but sometimes I think about other things."

"I know all about that," he said, knowingly. "So, what happened then?"

"He drove a long way before he finally stopped. By then I had managed to untie the ropes and pull the sack off my head, so when he opened the trunk, I threw the sack over his face, jumped out of the trunk, and ran. I had no idea where I was; I just knew I had to get away from him, but I could hear him chasing me." Her voice broke, remembering the terror hearing his heavy footfalls running behind her. "He caught me in that ditch thing, and started dragging me back to the car."

"That's when I came on the scene," he concluded.

He could hear her gasping as she tried to stifle the need to cry. "I was so scared!"

He knew she was about to break down, and although he felt a little helpless with the prospect of comforting a weeping girl, he was the only one there to offer reassurance. He slid across the floor to her, and took her into his arms. "Hey, I saw how you fought him. I thought you were very brave the way you were hitting and kicking him."

As his arms went around her slender body, she buried her face against his chest and began to cry. "I want to go home!" she wept, her voice muffled against his shirt.

"I know you do. So do I." She clung to the front of his shirt with her fist, and he cuddled her against him, resting his cheek on top of her head as her body shook with her sobs. He didn't know any other way to comfort her. "Hey, it'll be okay," he assured her. "I'm sure we'll get you home in the morning."

"He's still out there, just across the parking lot!" she sobbed, her voice muffled against the fabric of his tee shirt. "What if he finds us?"

Charlie did not want to even think about that possibility. He could only hope that come dawn, Doyle Jessup would drive on down the road and never look back.