Chapter 5

Jeannie watched the windshield wipers of her father's old Ford convert big snowflakes to drops of water as the rhythmic thumping did little to calm her anxiety. It was well into the evening by the time she and her father passed through Sacramento. They stopped for a quick meal at a highway diner after filling up with gas. Mike slipped away to a payphone to check in with Hasseejian only to learn there were no new developments in the Midlem murder or Steve's disappearance.

Sometimes no news was good news, but in this instance, Mike feared that was not the case. He caught a glimpse of his daughter sitting alone at the restaurant table and poured every ounce of resolve into the effort of showing minimal concern to the young woman.

"You ready to get back on the road, Sweetheart?" he asked as he noticed her half eaten plate was in the same state as before his phone call. "Why don't you finish that?"

"Sure, Mike," she said quietly. She picked up the remainder of her sandwich and took a couple of bites. "I'm ready."

The pair returned to their vehicle. "We'll put the chains on once we get into the foothills. After that the roads will probably start changing," he said as he saw the wet, but not slick condition of the roads in Sacramento.

An hour later, Mike pulled over in Weimar and quickly placed the chains on the tires. "I don't do that often, but it's simple enough to do," he said as he moved the car only a foot forward over the links. He quickly finished the process by securing the chains tightly on each tire. "There, now. All set. Okay, Buddy boy, we are on our way," Mike said aloud. He felt it important to convey a since of control for the protection of his daughter. He glanced over to Jeannie who sat very still. "It will be okay, Sweetheart."

She nodded quietly, "I know."

Mike took a deep breath in. "You know, I can still smell the gingerbread you packed. It's taking all of my strength not to take a bite or two."

Jeannie nodded to the back seat where lying wrapped in a kitchen towel was the now-cool loaf of gingerbread cake. She had decided at the last moment to bring it, carefully packing it straight from the oven back at the house. "You'd better not, Mike Stone. That's Steve's Christmas present. Like I said, I called his Aunt Ruth and got the recipe. I thought he might appreciate it sooner rather than later."

"I'm sure he will," Mike agreed. "I'm guessing that you'll give it to him after scold him for making us worry so."

"Something like that," she added with a slight grin.

The Ford slowly crept back onto Hwy 80 as they made their way through the Sierras.

With a snow jacket wrapped around him, a blanket and a blasting car heater added the effort of warming Steve's still shivering body. As his clattering teeth calmed, he engaged the deputy to find out more about his rescuer. He learned that the deputy worked for the small town of Kingsbury near the state line of California. It was a small mountain town with a very small police station. Their primary task was to save stranded travellers and outdoorsmen in the rugged terrain.

"I heard about the murder at the hotel in Tahoe. It came in over the wire," Weston commented.

"Do you know Detective Daniels?" Steve asked.

"Yes, I've gone hunting with him and a couple of his men. He's a good guy." Weston read people well and knew that Steve was no harm to him. Steve told the deputy about his abduction and he thought he had talked them into returning to Tahoe, only to be stranded out in the cold.

"That's hard luck for you. Harder luck for the guy that got murdered, though." The deputy's words put things into perspective for Steve. He didn't know the victim, but to be killed shortly before Christmas would be hard on the survivors.

After a moment, Weston asked about being a cop in San Francisco and what that must be like. Steve was happy to share a war story or two. "Not much real crime happens out here," the deputy commented. "As a matter of fact, I'm the only one on duty. We have others on call to help in case there's trouble during the storm, but with Deputy Griffith home with a bad cold, it's just me."

Steve made a mental note that there was no traffic approaching them on the two lane road as they continued their drive to the police station. He could see that someone was following them but assumed that it was just another traveller.

As Weston turned off the main mountain road to a Kingsbury side street, the car followed them. Under the street light as they neared the station, Steve turned and squinted at the familiar car, "Hey, wait a minute..."

"What is it?" Weston asked.

"I don't believe it. It's them! It's the family I told you about. The ones who claim the father accidentally killed Midlem. They are the ones who dumped me!" Steve tried his hardest to keep cool.

"Just hang tight. Are you armed, by the way?" Weston wondered.

"No."

"Didn't think you were." Weston looked in his rear view mirror to see an older couple and their teenaged son exit the vehicle. "See them?"

"Yeah, I do. That's definitely them."

Weston lifted the snap that secured his gun for the second time that night and exited his vehicle. "Stay here," he instructed.

As Weston approached the family, Steve suddenly felt uneasy. The cop was alone, without backup, and this family had already murdered one person, even if it was by 'accident'. Wishing fervently that he had a gun, Steve knew that he had to get out of the warmth of the vehicle and do what he could to give support to the other lawman.

Grimacing as the cold air hit his wet clothes, Steve slid stiffly from the car. Weston had stopped Marty and Agnes was now clutching her husband's arm, looking anxious. Marty seemed to be answering whatever Weston had asked. Ryan stood slightly to one side, a scowl darkening his face. Steve felt a pang of sympathy for the youngster. He had had a tough day, first with his father accidentally killing someone and then getting involved in a kidnapping. He walked a few steps closer.

"I'd like you to come with me," Weston said to Marty and gestured to the police station.

"Yes, all right," Marty sighed and turned slowly in that direction. Weston stood aside slightly to allow Marty to precede him. Agnes was still clutching Marty's arm and had started to cry. Ryan had not moved.

"You, too, son," Weston added, glancing at Ryan.

For a long moment, Steve thought the youth was not going to budge, then the shoulders slumped and Ryan turned towards the station. Weston relaxed.

Too soon! Steve thought, but there was no time for him to warn Weston or do anything other than take the few steps necessary to close the distance between them and stop Ryan going for the cop's gun. He plunged forwards, hand reaching for Ryan's wrist and his feet slipped on the icy pavement and in the next instant, Steve found his wrist in Ryan's grasp and Weston's gun resting against his temple.

"We're not going in there," Ryan declared. "Mom, Dad; come away, please."

"Ryan," Weston warned and took a half step forwards.

"Don't come any closer!" Ryan shrieked. "I'll kill him!" The click of the safety coming off stopped everyone in their tracks.

It had been a long time since Mike had driven in snow. He remembered the advice he had been given about steering slowly and he kept his speed to sensible levels. The roads had clearly been ploughed and gritted, but the snow was relentless and Mike hoped that he was not taking both himself and Jeannie into a disaster. He wanted to put the pedal to the metal and speed to Steve's rescue, but that was impossible. The time it was taking to drive through the worsening conditions was straining his nerves to the limit.

"Steve will be okay, won't he?" Jeannie asked, her voice small. She wasn't looking at Mike; her attention was fixed out of the window, although there was nothing to see with the snow falling and the darkness.

"Yes, he will," Mike promised stoutly, not allowing a single trace of doubt to lace his voice. "Steve's tough, you know that."

"Of course," Jeannie agreed, but the anxiety in her voice tore at Mike's heart. She was an adult and she knew that even tough people could be hurt or killed by factors outside their control.

"We'll be there soon," Mike said. "I bet Steve will be waiting for us."

"Sure," Jeannie nodded.

Unhappy with the exchange, but not sure what else he could have said, Mike turned back to the road. He was feeling the strain of the unfamiliar driving conditions and fought back a tired sigh. There was no point in adding to Jeannie's worries. He risked a glance down at his watch and saw that they were making good time.

And the car began to slide.

Mike tried to correct the slide when he heard Jeannie's voice speak to him. As he did his best not to panic her or let her know they might be in trouble, he responded as calmly as he could. "What did you say, Sweetheart?"

"I said do you think he has been hurt skiing and was taken to a hospital? Maybe they just don't have any idea whom to contact since he might not have had his id with him? Lord knows there are plenty of ski accidents happening almost every day," Jeannie wondered.

"I don't know. He's an expert skier but I guess accidents can happen even to the best of us," Mike replied. He pulled from his deepest memory something Steve told him once of an experience he had. He heard Steve's voice as though he was right there with them calmly telling him what to do but he recalled it too late and the back passenger tire sank into a snow covered rut. He turned on the emergency flashers and told Jeannie to stay in the car while he got out carefully with a flashlight to assess their situation.

As he checked how badly they were stuck, a truck passed, turned around and then parked in front of their car. With their emergency flashers and brights on, the man retrieved a chain and attached it the bumper of Mike's car. Mike watched what he was doing and then decided to speak to the man. There was no response, so Mike tried again. This time, the man reached into his jacket pocket pulling out a card and handed it to Mike who placed it closer to the headlight to read. "I am Mike, I am mute."

Mike laughed at the irony and handed the card back, shaking the other Mike's hand. With hand motions, the other Mike showed him what to do. Both returned into their vehicles. Once they got Mike's car out of the rut and back on the road, they stopped again to remove the chain from Mike's car. Mike and Jeannie waved good-bye to their rescuer and were back on their way.

As they continued on their journey at a slower pace, both Jeannie and Mike were lost in silent thought and prayer. Both wished they knew what had become of Steve and wondered if the local authorities had any leads as of yet.

Jeannie had a dreadful thought. As tears fell from her eyes, she thought that Steve had not just disappeared, but was dead. Whoever killed that man at the resort had taken Steve and tortured him, thinking he knew something he did not know and ended up killing him in the process. Finally Jeannie began having body wracking sobs. Mike heard her and found a lit roadside park and pulled in. He held her trying to comfort her and find out what has caused this besides the fact that Steve is missing.

"He's dead, Mike," she whispered. "Whoever killed that man at the resort has taken Steve. I just know it."

"Jeannie, we don't know he is dead. He could just be somewhere being held against his will or he could be hurt somewhere. Yes, I do think something bad has happened to cause him not to be in touch but I refuse to believe he is dead. Try not to think that way," he soothed. "We have to keep thinking he is alive and will be with us again soon. If we give up hope, then Steve is lost and I refuse to lose that boy just as much as you do. Please try to think more positively. And who knows? If they did take him, he might have managed to get away. We just have to find him."

Back at the police station all stood stock still; the parents and Weston out of shock and fear of not knowing what Ryan might do if anyone made a move. Steve felt the gun trembling as Ryan's hand shook and began to feel a bit fearful himself. Sometimes a nervous person was deadlier than a calm person with a gun.

As he tried to think of what to say to defuse the situation he found himself in, all of sudden from behind they heard a voice say, "What in the devil is going on here?"

As Ryan's attention was distracted by the voice, Steve took a risk using a self-defence move to knock his hand away.

And then the gun went off...

Mike thought they were making progress. After being saved from an evening stuck in an icy mix, the detective and his daughter continued their way on Interstate 80 in hopes of getting to Tahoe before midnight. It was slow going, but they were able to move at a constant pace. Mike had a sinking feeling when he suddenly saw several cars approaching with their headlights on.

"What's wrong, Mike?" Jeannie asked. She saw the worried expression he wore despite the darkness.

"Lots of cars coming from the opposite direction. Not sure what's going on, but I guess we'll soon find out," he answered. As they drove over the crest of a hill, a solid line of brake lights appeared before them. He could see about a half mile ahead that people were carefully turning around. Beyond that was a series of police lights flashing red and blue against the snowy mountains.

"Daddy, what is it? An accident?" Jeannie asked.

"I don't think so, Sweetheart. I think the road is closed." Mike couldn't hide the disappointment in his voice. "Let's go ahead and see what's happening up there. Perhaps I can speak to one of the patrolman. Maybe there's another way to go."

It took another half hour for Mike and Jeannie to get to the head of the line. Indeed, everyone before them turned around and headed back west. Mike rolled his window down after retrieving the badge from his breast pocket. "Excuse me, officer. My name is Mike Stone. I'm a lieutenant with the San Francisco Police Department. I need to get to Tahoe tonight."

The young highway patrolman nodded as he studied Mike's badge and saw a weathered and worried look on the man's face. "I'm sorry sir, but you won't be getting to Tahoe tonight in this weather. Interstate 80 and Highway 50 have both been closed. It's a blizzard. They are expecting nearly three feet when it's all said a done. The road crews can't keep up."

Mike nodded his understanding. "Is there any way at all I can get to Tahoe? Perhaps I can either drop farther north or farther south."

"That will take you many, many hours. How urgent is your business? Is it a police matter, sir?" the officer inquired.

"You could say that. My partner was visiting Tahoe and may have been a material witness to a murder at a hotel there."

"Hey, not the murder at Mount Sumner?" the officer inquired.

"That's the one. We've lost contact with our man there and we're quite concerned something has happened."

"Yes, it came out on the wire. A man named Midlem was killed. Another man is now missing," the officer repeated what he had heard. "Look, Lieutenant, like I said, the roads are closed. Your best bet now would be to fly into Reno, then get a car and drive over to Tahoe. The roads aren't nearly as bad there. It's the mountain passes here that are the problem."

"Daddy, does he mean we have to go all the way back to San Francisco?" Jeannie spoke quietly.

"No, young lady, there's a regional airport in Sacramento with flights that make regular short hops to Reno. Your best bet would be to go back to Sacramento and see if you could either get on one of the short hoppers. If that doesn't work, perhaps try the airport administrator to see if there might be something they can do. Sometimes there's room on a cargo plane."

Mike thanked the officer and resigned himself to the idea that they would turn back. He looked at the clock on the dash and figured it would be quite late by the time they got to Sacramento.