been a champion. Martin Alvarez had presented Conquistador to his wife on her thirty-second birthday and he was Patty's favorite. As they raced across the narrow valley, she felt the muscular bay moving between her legs, reminding her of the things Martin had done to her that morning before she left the hacienda. There were two stallions in her life. Patty smiled at the thought.
One way to cut the heat was to race through the gaps between the stone monuments that spread out before her. In the canyons, the narrow rock walls shot up to the sky and cast cooling shadows over the trail. Conquistador knew the route of their morning run by heart, so Patty could concentrate on the view. Patty believed that the mesas had been painted by nature and sculpted by God. She never tired of looking at them. They were red or brown or yellow, depending on the light, and she imagined that she saw the faces of Indians or the bodies of muscular warriors in the rock.
The land in front of the canyon was flat and the huge boulders that marked both sides of the entrance were big enough for a man to hide behind. Conquistador was drawing alongside the massive stone pile on the right when two men appeared abruptly from behind the boulders to the left. They wore navy-blue ski masks, jeans, and jackets that were zipped to the neck, a bizarre outfit to wear in a land where the heat of the day was over one hundred degrees. As the man in front raised his hand toward Patty, palm outstretched, the other man leveled a rifle at her horse.
Patty knew instantly what was happening. Martin was rich, very rich, and he loved Patty past caring. Everyone knew this, and Patty was certain that these men knew it, too. They would use Martin's love to make him pay a fortune in ransom for her. And once he paid she was certain that she would die.
Patty dropped her body forward, hugging Conquistador as she kicked her heels into his flanks. The bay sprang forward. Wind like a freight train barreled past the quarter horse. Hooves beat against the parched ground, dust flew. The men jumped aside. Patty saw a swirl of light and shadow in the canyon, and freedom. Then a shot rang out in the still desert air.
2
There were seventy thousand people living in Laurel County, Arizona, but there was no debate over who among them was the richest and most powerful. Martin Alvarez was a bear of a man with a broad flat face the color of tanned leather. He wore his hair in a ponytail, had diamond studs in his ears, and wore buckskin jackets, hand- tooled cowboy boots, and bolo ties. Martin had started with one used-car lot on the outskirts of town and now owned car dealerships all over the state, as well as a statewide chain of retail stores and profitable land holdings. But Martin's proudest possession was his wife, the redheaded, green-eyed former Miss Laurel County.
Patty Alvarez was fifteen years Martin's junior. When the most powerful man in Laurel County started courting her she had been scared to death, but she knew that marrying Martin meant security. And there was the prestige of being Mrs. Martin Alvarez. She would go from being a name scratched into the stalls in the high-school boys' room to the top of Laurel County society. So she had said yes when Martin proposed and had been happily surprised to find that she had grown to love the husband who doted on her.
The Martin Alvarez seated behind the large oak desk in the hacienda's home office was a man on the verge of violence. The only thing keeping him civilized was the absence of a target. Seated on the other side of the desk were FBI Agent Thomas Chandler, Detective Norman Chisholm of the Laurel County Sheriff's Office, and Ramon Quiroz, the Laurel County district attorney. Several other law enforcement officers were also crowded into the room. Two FBI technicians were working on Martin's phone.
'I know you've told Mr. Quiroz and several others what happened today, but I'd like to hear it firsthand, if you don't mind,' Chandler said.
Martin looked ready to explode. He was tired of talking, he wanted action, but he restrained himself and recounted the day's events to the FBI agent.
'Patty rides every morning. Sometimes we ride together, but I had a conference call at seven, so she rode alone. She usually takes the same route and she's usually back between eight and nine. When she didn't return by ten I grew worried. I brought one of the men and we went looking for her.'
Martin paused. Chandler watched him control his anguish and anger.
'We found Conquistador near the entrance to a canyon roughly four miles east of here.'
'Conquistador is her horse?'
'Was. He's dead,' Martin replied bitterly.
'And your wife was missing?'
Martin nodded. 'But there was blood on the rocks where Conquistador fell.'
'I've got my forensic people out there now,' Chandler said. 'They'll analyze the blood to see if it's from the horse.'
He did not mention the other, obvious possibility.
'What did you do after you found Conquistador?'
'I called Ramon from my cell phone. Then we waited by the horse.'
'Tell me about the call from the kidnappers.'
'As soon as Norm arrived he told me to go home. He was worried it was a kidnapping and they'd call while I was out. They did, about two hours ago. They said no cops, but Ramon and Norm insisted that I bring you in.'
'That was a very smart move.'
'Unless they kill Patty,' Martin said, turning his steady eyes on Chandler.
'These people want money, Mr. Alvarez. That's what this is all about. There won't be any money if they kill your wife.'
Chandler waited a beat, hoping that Martin would relax a little. He didn't.
'Please tell me, word for word, as best you remember, what was said during the call.'
'It was a man but he disguised his voice. He said, `We've got your wife. If you want her to live it will cost you one million dollars. We want it in unmarked bills. Nothing larger than hundreds.' I told him it would take a day to get the money. He said he would call back with instructions. I asked to speak to Patty. He hung up. That's everything. The call didn't take long.'
'Okay,' the FBI agent said.
'I want honesty, Chandler,' Martin demanded. 'Total honesty. What are my wife's chances?'
Chandler looked grim. He shook his head.
'I have no idea what your wife's chances are. There are too many variables. So I'm not going to guess or give you a best-case scenario. The honest truth is that I don't know. All I can promise is that we will do everything in our power to get your wife back.'
3
The kidnappers told Martin to leave the ransom money under a log that crossed over Rattlesnake Creek in the mountains several hours' drive from Desert Grove. Martin's banker had the money ready, but on Chandler's instructions, Martin told the kidnappers that it would take two more hours for the bank to put the ransom together. Martin drove to the bank to pick up a large duffel bag stuffed with money while Chandler used the darkness to infiltrate a heavily armed team into the woods near the stream.
Thomas Chandler had been raised in Philadelphia, educated in Boston, and trained for his job in Quantico, Virginia. Nothing in his childhood, his schooling, or his FBI training had prepared him for lying for hours in a cold, damp forest on sharp, stony ground. Chandler had only been able to remain motionless for a little while. Soon he was shifting his body every few minutes, doing the best a city boy could to move quietly.
Scanning the area around the creek only took his mind off his discomfort for a little while. The wide stream twisted through the woods, the water deep and clear as it boiled over several boulders that changed the course of the creek. Through night-vision glasses the area looked like a neon video game.
Chandler was turning his collar up as protection against the cold mountain air when a noise made him freeze. He checked his watch. It was after ten, just about the time Alvarez would be arriving. A twig cracked and the agent saw a flashlight beam light up a stretch of the trail that wound through the woods to Rattlesnake Creek. Chandler focused his night vision-glasses on the spot where a tree felled by lightning lay across the waterway. Moments later Martin Alvarez came into view carrying a large duffel bag across his broad shoulders. Chandler watched Alvarez
