7
In closing arguments, Aaron Flynn played up the deal Dobbs had cut with the district attorney. The man was basically walking away, Flynn told the jurors. He was even out of jail pending sentencing on the attempted kidnapping count, which was the only charge the state was going to bring against him. But even though the jury knew Dobbs had a motive to lie, he seemed to be telling the truth and Paul McCann had no alibi for the time of the kidnapping. Two hours after they retired to deliberate, the jury was back with a verdict of guilty on all charges, including the charge of murder.
McCann didn't take the verdict well. He broke down. He screamed and cried. He swore he was innocent and that Dobbs was lying. Flynn promised to fight his case all the way to the United States Supreme Court if necessary. The appeal he promised would begin as soon as Melissa Arnold, the court reporter, prepared the transcript of the case.
But that never happened. One week after Paul McCann's trial ended, Melissa Arnold disappeared.
Someone was knocking on Martin Alvarez's bedroom door. He sat up groggily and stared at the clock on his end table. It was 2:30A.M.
'Senor Alvarez,' a man called out. Alvarez recognized the voice of one of his guards.
'Come in.'
A barrel-chested young man entered the bedroom.
'What is it?'
'Senor Arnold is here.'
'What does he want?'
'He wouldn't tell me, but he's very upset.'
'All right. Take him to my office, and see if he wants something to drink. I'll be right down.'
The day after his arrest, Lester Dobbs had led the police to Patty Alvarez's grave in the desert. Martin was home when he got the news that Patty was really dead. He had identified the body, returned to his hacienda, and remained there, leaving only to attend Patty's funeral and Paul McCann's trial. Several friends had tried to pay condolence calls, but Martin had turned them away. This was different. Gene Arnold was more than Martin's lawyer. He had worked for Martin for peanuts when Martin was nobody. He had always been there for him when times were hard.
Alvarez dressed quickly. When he walked into his office he found his friend and lawyer pacing back and forth, his cheeks tear-streaked and his hair uncombed.
'She's gone,' Gene said.
'Who's gone?'
Gene slumped on a chair and buried his head in his hands.
'Melissa,' he moaned.
Gene Arnold was five eight, balding, and had the start of a paunch. He was not much to look at, in other words, which made his marriage to Melissa Arnold so surprising. He had met her during a deposition in Los Angeles, where she was working as a freelance court reporter. According to Gene, she had just left a terrible marriage. He had been pulverized by her looks and had proposed after one date. They married at a wedding chapel in Las Vegas and honeymooned at Caesars Palace.
Almost from the day he came back to Desert Grove with his bride, the gossips said Melissa had married Gene for his money. Martin and Patty Alvarez saw a lot of the couple and it had been Patty's opinion that Melissa was never in love with her husband-he was someone safe and comfortable who would worship her and never betray her.
Alvarez poured Arnold a tall Scotch and forced him to take a drink. When Gene was calm enough to speak coherently, he told Martin what had happened that day.
'Melissa left for work this morning. I went to the office. Around nine-thirty, Marge called from Mel's chambers to ask if Melissa was sick.' Gene looked up, his face the very picture of despair. 'She never made it to work, Martin.'
Martin's first thought was that she had run out on Gene and the tedium of Desert Grove. He knew Melissa had grown tired of Gene and the town fairly quickly. Martin based his conclusion on the fact that she'd come on to him at his Fourth of July barbecue. Martin had rebuffed her gently and had never told anyone about the pass, but he watched her closely after that and noticed her flirting with more than one man.
'Marge said no one had seen Melissa at the courthouse. I called home, thinking she was sick and had gone back to the house. There was no answer, so I drove home in case she was sleeping or had fainted or . . .'
'And she wasn't there?'
Gene shook his head. It was still hard for him to talk.
'But all her clothes were there. So were the suitcases. There wasn't any note. She hasn't run off, Martin.'
A feeling of dread began to grow in Martin's stomach.
'Did you call the sheriff?'
'No. What would I have said? I mean, she was only gone for a few hours. I was worried, but after I called the hospital and they said she wasn't there, I kept thinking that she would call and explain what happened. The sheriff wasn't going to do anything, anyway, until there was proof that something had happened to her.'
'And now there is?' Martin asked fearfully.
'There . . . there was a call.' Gene stopped and caught his breath. 'The voice was disguised. It was so low that I couldn't understand it at first.'
Gene started to cry again. Finally, he choked out what he had to say.
'They have her. It's the people who took Patty.'
Martin felt sick.
'It's the same people,' Gene sobbed. 'The caller said so. They'll kill her if I call the police. What should I do? I love her. I've got to save her.'
Gene looked at Alvarez for an answer, but Martin couldn't think straight.
'Did they let you talk to Melissa?'
'No. I asked, but they refused.'
'What do they want?'
'Seventy-five thousand dollars or they're going to kill her.'
'Can you get your hands on that much money?'
'Just. I've got a retirement account. The money means nothing to me. It's Melissa. If they kill her . . .'
'What are you supposed to do?'
'The kidnappers are going to contact me around five tonight at my house. They said they're watching me and they'll know if I go to the cops or have a tap put on my phone.'
'What do you want me to do, Gene?'
Arnold raised his eyes to Alvarez's face. It was a block of stone.
'I can't risk going to the police or the FBI. Look at the mess they made in your case.'
Martin nodded. Gene leaned forward, his hands clasped like a supplicant before a king.
'Can you bring them the money, Martin?' Arnold looked down. 'I . . . I'm not brave. Look at me. What could I do to save her? But you're tough. If there was a chance, you could fight them . . .'
His voice trailed off. The plea was pathetic and desperate.
'That makes no sense at all, Gene. I'm no Rambo, and these guys won't fight fair. This isn't like one of those kung fu movies where the villain throws down his weapons and fights the hero hand to hand. They'll have guns and they'll shoot me in the back if it suits them. They shot it out with the FBI.'
'I'm sorry. You're right, I don't know what I was thinking.' Gene sounded thoroughly defeated. 'I have to take the chance that Melissa is alive and that they'll return her to me if I pay them.'
Alvarez looked at the clock on his desk. It was a little after three. His mind was racing. He doubted that Melissa Arnold was still alive, but that didn't mean that he would let his friend deal with her killers. They were the people who murdered his Patty and this was a chance for revenge.
'Let me take you home,' Alvarez said calmly, giving none of his feelings away. 'I'll stay with you. Let's see what they say. Then we'll decide what to do.'
