The brother I assume. I don't want to embarrass myself further by asking. I had the impression as Dan relayed his story that he told me all this before. He's gracious enough not to say it.

"What were you doing in San Diego last night?" I ask.

Dan is leading the way up a brick path to the front door. "My brother needed some finishing work done on his house. Sylvie agreed to stay at a friend's for a couple of days so I could help him. He was waiting for me at that bar when he met you."

He gives me a sideways glance, which I quickly avert. I can't even imagine what kind of conversation we had that led me to that motel room.

Dan has his keys in his hand. He's a step or two in front of me. Suddenly, he stops so abruptly I almost bounce off his back. "The door," he says.

I look up. The path is flanked by tall bushes and at first, I don't see anything. But when I move around Dan, I do. The front door is open, the frame splintered in several places. It looks like someone kicked it open.

Dan starts to yell for Burt, for Sylvie.

I grab his arm and stop him from bursting inside. I pull him behind me and motion for him to stay where he is. I doubt he will, but at least I'll go in first. I let my senses do a quick initial reconnoitering. I don't feel or hear anyone inside.

Dan whispers urgently in my ear. "Your gun. You may need it."

I doubt it, but the panic in his eyes lessens a little when I unclip the gun from my waistband and hold it at the ready.

I slide around to the side of the doorway, flatten myself against the wall, peek in. It's quiet. I crouch low and move inside. My toe comes in contact with something soft and yielding. I know without looking. A body. When I glance down, the body stirs. It's a man. A man I recognize from last night. Dan's brother.

Dan is right at my heels. He gives a little cry and kneels down. "Burt. What happened?"

The man groans and tries to sit up. The effort brings a wave of retching. He has a nasty cut on his scalp. He grabs at his head and moans, blood oozing between his fingers.

I squat down beside him. The scent and the sight of his blood makes it hard for me to keep from touching my own fingers to his wound. Instead, I rock back on my heels and ask softly, "Is he still here?"

He shakes his head, slowly and carefully. When he meets Dan's eyes, there are tears in his own. "Alan got her. He has Sylvie."

He says it apologetically as though it's his fault she's gone. Dan puts his arms around his brother. "Did he say anything? Do you know where he was taking her?" His voice is calm, controlled.

Only I see the fury burning in his eyes.

Burt struggles again to sit up. "He said something about 'getting it back.' Sylvie fought him but he was too strong. He was going to kill me if she didn't agree to go with him. She did, and he hit me anyway. God, Dan, I am so sorry."

I stand and place a hand on Dan's shoulder. "Do you know what he meant by 'getting it back'?"

When he looks up at me, resolve hardens his features. "Their first date. He asked me for suggestions. I said take Sylvie hiking in Palm Canyon. She loves it there. Later, he told me he fell in love with her that day. That's where he's taking her. I know it."

"Can you show me?"

He nods.

Burt is moaning again, his eyes glazing. He may have a concussion.

"Call an ambulance for your brother. Then we'll go."

Dan moves stiffly, pushing himself to his feet, walking with measured steps to a cordless phone on a side table a few feet away.

There's a photograph on the table. Dan and a young woman. I memorize what she looks like while he speaks softly into the receiver. I have a feeling, glancing back at Burt, that serving her ex-husband with a restraining order is not going to solve their problems.

Dan brings the phone to his brother.

"They want you to keep talking to them until the ambulance comes. Can you do that?"

Burt takes the phone. "Go," he says. "Find Sylvie."

Dan turns but instead of starting for the front door, he disappears through an interior doorway. He's back in a second. His studiously vacant expression triggers a spasm of suspicion in my brain.

"Dan, where did you go?"

He ignores my question, and heads outside.

I follow, too, but pause once, to turn at the doorway. “Tell the police where we've gone."

Burt nods. I breathe the scent of his blood one more time before hurrying to catch up with his brother.

PALM CANYON IS A DESERT ANOMALY. AN OASIS tucked between canyon walls fed by an underground stream. When we pull into the parking lot, there are a half dozen cars lined up near the ranger station. Hikers, no doubt. There's no one on duty in the station on a Friday afternoon, though. State budget limitations have made it impossible to have full-time rangers.

Dan hasn't said a word. Wouldn't look at me or answer the question of where he went when he left his brother and me. I know how afraid he is for his daughter. I also know that kind of fear leads you to try stupid and desperate things. I'll have to keep an eye on him.

When we've parked and are out of the car, I stop him before he heads for the trail. He looks at me with the same blank expression.

"Let me take the lead," I tell him. "Alan doesn't know who I am. He does know you. If I go first, we may be able to surprise him."

He shakes his head. "You don't know what he looks like. You don't even know what Sylvie looks like."

"Dark hair, shoulder length, about five feet five inches tall, 120 pounds. She has her father's eyes."

He looks like I've just performed a magic trick.

"There was a picture on the table in the living room."

"You got all that from a picture?"

"It's what I do. Trust me. I'd ask you to stay here, but I know you wouldn't. All I am asking is that you don't try anything foolish and you don't get in my way."

His nod is wooden and not very convincing. But I understand. When my niece was in trouble, no force in the world could have stopped me from helping her.

We start into the canyon. It's after two in the afternoon and shadows are already lengthening. When we come to the first fork in the trail, Dan doesn't hesitate, but points to the right. We pass a group of hikers coming out.

I stop them. "We're looking for friends of ours. A couple. Did you pass anyone in the last half hour or so?"

A blonde wearing biker shorts and a tank top steps forward. She glances over my head. "We did pass someone. Your name isn't Dan, is it?"

Dan gives a startled jerk beside me. He steps in front. "Yes."

She frowns. "He said to tell you that they'd wait for you. That you would know where."

She looks to her companions with an expression that makes me suspect she wants to say more.

"Was there something else?" I prod.

She nods. "I may be reading too much into this, but I don't think the woman wanted to go with him. She was crying. I asked if she needed help, but she said no. The guy kept stroking her hair. He wouldn't let go of her arm. It was creepy. I was going to report it at the ranger station."

Dan doesn't wait to hear more. He starts down the trail at a run.

The blonde and her friends look like they might follow him. I touch her arm to get her attention. "There's no one at the ranger station. Call the police. Tell them which trail we took but warn them that it's a hostage situation."

The girl and her hiking buddies still look more excited than concerned. "Don't follow us," I snap at them. "This is not a game. There's a woman in danger, and you could get her killed. Get out of the canyon and call the police."