Disclaimer: See Chapter One

Eight

Charlie opened the driver's side door and slid into the car while Erica opened the other door and climbed into the passenger seat. First, he turned to look into the rear seat and on the floorboards, hoping to find some bottled water or a box of cookies, anything to fill the empty space in their stomachs and soothe their dry throats, but found only a wadded up hamburger wrapper and an empty paper cup, presumably Jessup's last meal before heading out into the desert.

Facing the front of the car again, he inserted the key in the ignition and turned it, feeling the power of the vehicle as it roared to life. As the engine idled, he sat quietly for several moments, contemplating the fact that he had not driven a car in a very long time. It felt alien to him, and his hands moved along the various controls, getting accustomed to the feel of being behind the wheel again. The automatic gear shift was on the floor, the radio controls just above it. A tape was protruding from the deck, and he pulled it out to look at it. It was a homemade tape, probably someone's favorite songs, for it was labeled in handwritten script, 1980's Rock. It looked like a woman's writing, he noted, with its small, precise lettering. Above the deck were the controls for the windshield wipers and the heater and air conditioning. Above the steering wheel was the gas gauge, and he observed it curiously. The tank was nearly half full. That was good; at least they would not run out before they reached civilization.

Glancing at Erica, he saw that she was staring at him, wondering why it was taking him so long. "It's been a long time since I've driven a car," he explained.

She looked startled. "You do know, don't you?"

"Oh, yeah! Of course, I know how!" Looking at her worried face, he chose not to reveal the fact that his license had been revoked, but his obvious discomfort was making her nervous. "Well, I guess we should get going," he said at last.

He shifted the car into drive, eased off the brake, and the car crept slowly forward. Applying a little more pressure on the gas pedal, it accelerated faster than he had anticipated. To compensate for the unexpected speed, he slammed the brake, sending Erica sliding off the seat and onto the floor.

"Sorry," he apologized, seriously embarrassed. "It's been a long time, and these pedals are a little touchy. I haven't quite got the feel of it yet. You okay?"

With a rather accusing stare, she climbed back into the seat and reached for the seat belt, a gesture which, combined with her expression, made him feel slightly offended. "Maybe you should put yours on too," she suggested as she securely fastened the belt.

He gave a shrug, realizing that she was right. "Good idea."

He quickly strapped on the seat belt, then eased off the brake again and applied a little less pressure to the gas pedal. The car moved forward at a more controlled speed. As they reached the edge of the building, he rotated the steering wheel and felt a surge of satisfaction when the car moved around the corner.

Maintaining a carefully restrained pace, Charlie guided the car back onto the blacktop and moved past the pumps to the parking lot entrance. Coming to a complete stop, he looked up and down the highway to verify that no cars were coming. Through the open windows they could still hear Doyle Jessup shouting at them. Charlie ignored him, concentrating on the long ribbon of asphalt, then, deeming it safe, he pulled the car out onto the road headed west.

He accelerated slowly, making certain that he was able to control the vehicle, before he gained too much speed. A speed sign flashed past which read 55 miles per hour, and he automatically lowered his eyes to the speedometer. He was traveling at 45 miles per hour, and felt pretty comfortable at that speed. It was a safe speed, and he was content to remain at that pace.

After a few moments, Erica turned around in her seat to look behind her at the abandoned diner, and he heard her heave a deep sigh of relief. "You okay?" he asked.

"We're safe," she said. "Finally, we're safe!"

He smiled. "Yep, that we are. Jessup isn't going anywhere. I'm surprised that Don hasn't showed up yet, but there is a convenience store up ahead. We'll stop there and phone for help."

She settled back in her seat and looked out the window at the landscape as Charlie continued to drive toward civilization.

xxxxxx

"Wait! What was that?" Alan called out abruptly. His head whirled around to look out the back window. "Stop!"

Responding to the urgent request, Larry immediately braked, honking his horn at the same time to announce to the SUV ahead of them that they were stopping. "What is it?" he asked, noticing that Don's brake lights had come on in reaction to the sound of the horn.

"There's something on the road back there."

Larry glanced up in the rear view mirror, observing the road behind them as the car came to a complete stop on the asphalt, but saw only the long stretch of highway that faded into the distance. "I didn't see anything. It was probably just an animal."

"It wasn't an animal!" Alan insisted. "I only caught a glimpse of it as we drove past, but it looked like some kind of mark on the road. Back up!"

Shifting the car in reverse, Larry drove backward until the large X came into view beside the car. "You're right," he said. "Someone has clearly been here, and logic suggests that someone is probably Charles." Putting the car in park, he opened the door and stepped out to view the letter that had been written in sandstone on the pavement.

Alan quickly exited the vehicle on the passenger side and hurried around the rear of the car to join him, and they stood, one on each side of it, looking down at the mark.

They heard the whine of the SUV's engine as Don shifted into reverse and backed up, stopping just in front of Larry's car. The three men got out of the vehicle and approached them.

"What've you got?" Don asked, but he spotted the X in the road before the question had been completed. He removed his sunglasses for a better look. "Was this here yesterday when you came by?"

Larry shrugged. "I'm afraid I didn't notice. Laurel and I were looking off into the landscape searching for Charles. I didn't see it this time either for the same reason."

"Which is what we were doing just now," David admitted. "We missed it too."

"Well, given the fact that no one ever travels on this road, I think it's a pretty safe bet that it was him," Alan said. "The question is, why?"

Don walked slowly around the letter, examining it. "Well, judging from the size of it, he wanted to make certain it was seen." He lifted his eyes to the clumps of brush just off the side of the road, then moved slowly toward them as if searching for something.

"What are you looking for?" Larry asked.

"Anything that looks like he might have --- " He broke off suddenly, and stepped behind a clump of brush.

"What is it?" Alan asked with sudden alarm. Had he found Charlie? Had he crawled off the road badly injured? Was he ---? "Donny?"

Don emerged from the brush with the bicycle.

Alan felt his heart leap into his throat, instantly recognizing the familiar vehicle that was his younger son's primary means of transportation. "That's Charlie's!" He spun around, searching the wilderness, a panicked expression on his face. "Oh, dear God where is he?"

Don placed the bike on the asphalt and knelt down to examine it for damage. "Looks like he had a blowout," he said, indicating the gaping hole in the front tire. His eyes scanned the frame, noticing the dents and the scuffed paint, and his fingers reached out to touch one particularly scraped area.

With somber expressions, the others crowded close to examine the damaged bicycle.

Larry was shaking his head slowly. "Traveling at a high rate of speed, a blowout could cause some pretty serious injuries, especially on the front tire. When it locks up, it would typically send the rider over the handlebars. I sincerely hope he was wearing his helmet and pads."

"His equipment is here," Don said as he stood up again. He indicated the helmet with the gloves and pads. "He couldn't have been too badly injured, since he was cognizant enough to take them off and hide the bike. This pretty much confirms my assumption that he took off across country. He put the X on the road so he could locate the bike again once he was picked up." At the bottom of the helmet, he found the shattered cell phone, and held it up for the others to see. "Here's why he couldn't call us."

"You were right," David said.

"Okay, let's get going," Don said, glancing at his watch. "That traffic jam on the interstate has put us behind schedule. I had hoped to be at the Oasis by now."

"Yeah, can you believe that?" Larry asked. "Of all the days to get stuck behind a six car pile-up! Why don't we put the bike on my car? I left the rack on it just in case we needed it."

Don and Larry lifted the bicycle onto the rack and secured it, then the climbed into their vehicles and sped away again.

They had not gone far when Don noticed a burgundy sedan driving toward them. It was not doing anything out of the ordinary and appeared to be traveling well within the traffic laws, but the presence of the vehicle itself on the deserted stretch of highway seemed unusual, and attracted his attention. Don watched it carefully as it approached, and as the two cars passed, both drivers glanced at each other.

Don's head instantly whirled around as the car passed. "That's Charlie!" He immediately applied the brakes.

Charlie had also recognized his brother, and slammed on the brake so hard that the tires squealed loudly and left twin streaks down the asphalt as they ground to a halt.

In spite of the SUV's large size, Don expertly maneuvered the vehicle into a U-turn on the narrow highway in which only the right front tire slipped from the asphalt onto the soft shoulder, and accelerated toward the now parked sedan.

Behind him, Larry and Alan had experienced the same jolting recognition, and the professor conducted a U-turn behind the SUV. Charlie had opened the car door and stepped out onto the pavement, waiting for them.

Don screeched to a halt behind him, and leaped out of the vehicle, instantly noticing that his younger brother was a bit worse for wear. When they reached each other, he placed a welcoming hand on Charlie's shoulder, and was startled when he stifled a cry of pain as he shrank away from the gesture, his own hand immediately going to the injured area. Concern flashed across his face. "Charlie? What the hell?" He placed both hands on the sides of his brother's face and examined him carefully, taking note of the huge bruise on his forehead. He probed at the contusion on his forehead with his fingertips.

Charlie was squirming uncomfortably beneath Don's inspection, and jerked his head back when his brother's probing fingers found a particularly sore spot. "Ow!"

Don removed his hands. "Sorry. What happened to you?"

"It's a long story, and I'll be happy to tell you about it, but right now –"

"Charlie!" Alan exclaimed as he jumped out of Larry's car before it had come to a complete halt and rushed toward his son. Don stepped to one side as Alan took his son into his arms for a tight embrace. Then, he drew back to examine him for injuries. "Oh, my God, Charlie! You're hurt!" His fingers went toward the same bruise that Don had been exploring, but stopped just short of touching it, his fatherly instinct advising him that it would be tender.

"I'm okay, Dad," Charlie assured him. "Just a bit sprained and bruised."

"I'll feel better once you're examined by an expert."

Don's eyes had fallen on the bruises that were beginning to form on his neck; bruises that faintly resembled fingers, and he reached out and gently lifted Charlie's hair from his neck, frowning at the marks that completely encircled his throat. "Who did this to you?"

"Doyle Jessup!" Charlie told him. "He tried to strangle me."

Don's eyes snapped up to his brother's face. "Jessup? What, you mean the escaped convict?"

"Yeah. The very same."

Before he could say more, the paramedic approached him with his medkit. "Here, let me take a look at those bruises."

Charlie took a step backward, avoiding the paramedic's hands. "No, not here. Jessup is tied up back at the Oasis. We need to get someone out there to pick him up before he manages to get out of the ropes. I'd hate for him to escape again."

"Ropes?" Don asked, surprised. "Wait a minute. Are you telling me that you captured Doyle Jessup?"

"Yeah. I tied him pretty tight, but he was really struggling, so I don't know how long they'll hold him. We need to get back there if you want to take him into custody."

"You'll let the paramedic take a look at you when we get there, right?" Alan asked, firmly.

Charlie nodded. "Sure."

"Who's you friend?" Larry asked, his attention diverted to the girl who stood beside the car door, watching the reunion through curious but nervous eyes.

Charlie made a beckoning gesture with his hand, and the child moved toward him and took his hand for security. "This is Erica Davenport. She's from San Bernadino. Jessup kidnapped her yesterday morning. He was gonna . . . " He shrugged. "You know."

"We get the picture," Don said. "All right. We can discuss all this later. Let's go get Jessup."

Charlie turned and started back toward the car, which was still idling in the road, but Don clamped a hand on his shoulder – fortunately, the uninjured shoulder.

"Not you, buddy. Don't forget, you're not licensed to drive."

Charlie turned to face him, a hint of a smile playing around the corners of his mouth. "Are you going to arrest me for driving without a license?"

"We'll let it slide this time," he replied with a wink. "Extenuating circumstances." He turned to his partner. "David, you take the car. Charlie will ride with me."

"I'm riding with you, too," Alan said.

Wade smiled, understanding the family bonding. "Given the limited seating in the SUV right now, I'll ride with David," he offered.

The men dispersed, each climbing into one of the three vehicles. Erica huddled close to Charlie, the only one with whom she was familiar. By the time they arrived at the Desert Oasis, Charlie had filled Don in on the highlights of his past twenty four hours. The details would be discussed back at the office.

As they pulled into the parking area beside the restaurant, Don's eyes fell upon the criminal, who was still struggling against his tethers. "I'll be damned," he muttered. "That's Jessup, all right." He stopped the car near the awning, and turned off the ignition.

When David had parked beside the SUV, the two agents approached the escaped convict, one on each side, their hands resting lightly on their guns, prepared to draw them if necessary. However, it quickly became apparent that Charlie had done an adequate job of securing him. While David covered him, Don bent over to check the ropes.

"They're secure," he said. "He's not going anywhere."

"Please loosen these things!" he pleaded. "My hands have gone numb! I swear, I ain't gonna try nothin'! Just loosen these ropes!"

"How 'bout I replace the ropes with handcuffs," Don suggested.

"Please! Yes!" the killed begged. "Anything; just get these ropes off me!"

"First time I've ever had a criminal begging me to cuff him," Don said to David as he removed the restraints from the cuff case on his belt. He squatted down and placed the cuffs on Jessup's wrists and fastened them securely. Then he attempted to untie the ropes, but they were too tight. "Idiot," he muttered. "You've struggled so much that you've tightened the knots. You should have known better than that. I'm going to have to cut them off. Hang on. I think I have a knife in my car."

Jessup was near tears. "Just hurry, please! I can't stand this much longer."

Don stood up and walked to the back of the SUV and opened one of the large cases of FBI equipment. He quickly located the knife, and walked back to the criminal. It was apparent to all that he was in no hurry, but most of all to Jessup, who by now was moaning his discomfort.

Don knelt down beside him again and applied the knife to the rope. After a few moments, the ropes fell free.

Jessup flexed his hands. "I can barely move my fingers!"

"They're moving just fine," Don told him, moving to his feet, where he removed the ropes that bound his ankles.

Then, with Don on one arm and David on the other, they hauled the killer to his feet and escorted him toward the SUV.

Charlie immediately opened the opposite door and slid out of the vehicle. Erica scooted out behind him, and Doyle Jessup was seated in their place.

"Sorry, but I have to transport him in my car," Don explained as he put leg restraints on the prisoner to keep him from trying anything foolish."

"That man there!" Jessup said, gesturing with his head toward Charlie. "He assaulted me! Hit me over the head with a club! Damn near knocked me senseless!"

"And what have you done to him?" Don snapped. "Your finger marks are visible on his throat where you tried to strangle him! He has a bruise on his forehead where you hit him with the club! Don't you get any ideas of trying to make an issue out of this, because I'm making sure his injuries are well documented! You're not going to get any sympathy from anyone, plus you'll be doing extra time for assaulting him and for killing that prison guard."

Jessup shut up, and with a scowl on his face, leaned against the backrest.

"David, read him his rights and call it in."

"Sure thing," David replied.

With the prisoner secured, Larry and the paramedic got out of the other vehicles and approached them.

Alan took Charlie by the arm. "You promised to let the paramedic have a look at you," he reminded him.

Charlie nodded, submitting to his father's gentle tug on his arm, and allowed himself to be led to the curb in front of the restaurant. Wearily, he sank down on it. Wade squatted down in front of him and as gently as he could, probed at the contusion on his forehead with experienced fingers.

"That is one nasty bruise," he said. "How hard were you hit?"

"Hard enough to knock me down," Charlie answered.

"Did you lose consciousness?"

"No, but it was close. It sort of paralyzed my whole body. I couldn't move for awhile."

Erica sat down beside him and watched while the paramedic examined the professor. When he glanced at her, she asked, "Do you have any water, please?"

"I sure do," he said, opening the medkit. He withdrew a six-pack of eight ounce bottles of water, popped one off the ring-holder, and opened it for her. "Slowly," he cautioned. "I know you're thirsty, but if you drink it too fast you'll get sick." He held the bottle out to her and allowed her to take it.

She immediately tipped it up and gulped it eagerly.

Wade reached for it, pulling it back down. "Easy there! Remember what I said?"

"Sorry," she said. "I couldn't stop."

"Just keep sipping it slowly, but don't guzzle, okay?" He opened another bottle for Charlie. "Same thing," he warned. "Drink it slowly.

Charlie took the bottle, intending to take only a couple of swallows, but once the swallow reflex was engaged, he found it difficult to stop as well. The water was warm, but it was wet and very refreshing, and he had swallowed four or five times before Alan finally grasped the bottle and forced it down.

Charlie grinned, sheepishly. "I can't remember ever being this thirsty."

"You're badly dehydrated," Wade said, removing a small penlight from his shirt pocket. "Look straight ahead," he said.

Charlie forced himself to still while the paramedic flicked the penlight in his eyes, testing them for the proper reaction to light.

"Any nausea? Changes in vision? Headaches?"

"I had a headache for a while yesterday after I was hit, but no, no problems with my eyes. The only time I came close to hurling was when that scumbag was in my face, and I had to smell his rotten breath."

"That bad, huh?"

"Like a dead skunk!"

Wade chuckled. "That's pretty bad!" He clicked off the penlight and returned it to his pocket. "Looks good," he announced. "Both eyes are equal and reactive, and I couldn't feel any indications of a fracture. You might have had a mild concussion, but there doesn't seem to be any lingering damage. I'd have your doctor take a look at it, though, just to be safe."

"I will make sure that he does," Alan said.

"It's a well known fact that he's got a hard head," Don quipped. "By the way, can I have one of those for the prisoner? The last thing I want is a police brutality charge coming out of this."

"Sure thing," Wade said. Snapping another bottle from the holder, he handed it to the agent. "If he's been without water for a while, make sure he drinks it slowly, or it may end up on the floor of your vehicle."

"Thanks for the warning," Don replied. He took the bottle to the prisoner, and held it for him while he took a drink.

David returned the microphone to the hook, and said, "The car was reported stolen night before last by a resident of Palmdale. She had been working late, and stopped for a stop sign on the way home when he pulled open the driver's door, yanked her out, and then drove off."

"She was lucky that she was an adult," Don commented. "Isn't that right, Jessup? You prefer them young, don't you?"

Jessup scowled, but did not answer.

"Yeah, and it was a good lesson in why people should lock their car doors!" David continued. "After he got the car, he drove right on down Highway 138 until he got to San Bernadino. He probably spent the night in the park, then the girl happened by the next morning. They're going to notify her parents, and have them meet us at the office."

"Good. I bet they'll be relieved."

David leaned against the car and watched while the paramedic examined Charlie's sore shoulder. "You know, he solved three cases in one day! The escaped prisoner, the stolen car, and the kidnapped girl. Not bad for a college professor!"

Don smiled. "He never ceases to amaze me."

Sensing Don's eyes on him, Charlie looked up and their eyes met. Don gave a slight nod, but no words were necessary. The expression said it all: Good job, Buddy.

tbc

A/N: One more to wrap things up.