Unspeakable

her without even looking at Holly.

With the rain clinging to her eyelashes and dripping from the tip of her nose, she walked all the way to the Columbia Valley Travel Office. There were color photographs in the window of all the different river trips that tourists could take up the Columbia and the Willamette, to Multnomah Falls and Mount Hood and the International Rose Test Garden, a mass of yellow roses. She looked around for a few moments, but there was no sign of Daisy anywhere, and she began to walk back.

She called into several stores and restaurants, asking if anybody had seen a little girl of eight in a pink jacket and jeans, but all she got in reply was the solemn shaking of heads. In the doorway of the Portland Family Bakery she sent a text message to Mickey, telling him what had happened.

His reply came back almost at once: 'Don't worry Ill get on it go home.'

Mickey Brings Bad News

She sat at the dining table, still wearing her wet raincoat, while Marcella stayed with her.

'I can't believe that she would have gone anywhere without telling me.'

'Ms. Summers, Daisy is a good girl always, you know that. But even good girls sometimes play a little mischief.'

'She's been upset lately, you know, about not having a father. I think she's getting to the age when she really needs a man in her life.'

'Hmmh! That depends ifyouneed a man in your life. You've been very good to Daisy, Ms. Summers, raised her good.'

Holly tried to smile. 'I don't know what I'd do without you, Marcella. I wish you'd call me Holly.'

Marcella shook her head. 'How many times you ask me this, hah? And each time what do I say? I work for you, I give you respect. In this times now, nobody give nobody no respect. Not husbands for wives, not parents for children. Every place you look is no respect.'

A few minutes after eight-thirty, with still no sign of Daisy, the red light over the doorbell flashed, and Marcella went to answer it. It was Mickey, looking as if he had swum from the other side of the Willamette River.

'What's happened? Have you found her?'

Mickey glanced at Marcella. 'I need to talk to you in private.'

'You can trust Marcella.'

'I know, but this is kind of tricky, and it's important for Daisy's sake that nobody else knows about it.'

'Well? all right. Marcella, can you leave us alone for a while?'

'It's okay. I go downstairs and see Leo in the kitchen. You call me when you need me.'

After Marcella had gone, Mickey said, 'I had a call about twenty minutes ago from a snitch called Nicky Moranes. He said that Merlin Krauss had asked him to pass on a message.'

'Merlin Krauss? A message? About what?'

Mickey took out a clean but fraying handkerchief and wiped his face and his neck. 'It seems that Krauss has found out that you lip-read and that you're qualified to give evidence about what he was saying about knocking off Mrs. Rossabi. Don't ask me how he found out.'

He took a deep breath, and then he said, 'Holly, I'm afraid to say that he's taken Daisy and he's not going to give her back unless you guarantee that you won't testify against him in court.'

Holly slowly sat down. She could actually feel her face turning to chalk. 'He'stakenher? Did he say where she was? Oh God, he hasn't hurt her, has he?'

'He said she was safe and well. But he wants to meet you face-to-face and hear you promise that you're not going to help to convict him.'

'Of course I will! Where is he?'

'Holly, it's not as easy as that. Merlin Krauss is wanted for conspiracy to commit homicide in the first degree-and now kidnapping. I don't have the authority to let you negotiate an amnesty for him. That's in addition to exposing a civilian to potentially mortal danger.'

'But we're talking about Daisy's life! And you can't force me to testify against him, can you? And what kind of case will you have if I don't?'

'Holly, you're putting me in a real difficult position here.'

'Difficult position?Difficult position? This is my little girl, Mickey! This is my dead husband's only child!'

'We're talking about a guy who arranges murders here, Holly! A guy who kills people for fun and profit! You think you can trust him to let Daisy go, and you too? If you go to see him, he'll probably whack you both!'

'I have to try, Mickey, and you have to let me. Tell me where he is.'

Mickey shook his head. 'This goes against any kind of kidnapping or hostage procedure.'

'Who else knows about this? Your captain? Your commander?'

'So far? nobody but me.'

'Then if nobody else knows about it, you won't have to take the responsibility for it, will you? All you have to do is tell me where Krauss wants to meet me.'

'I'm sorry, Holly, I can't. I'm going to have to call this in and see what a negotiating team can do to get Daisy free.'

Holly reached across the table and gripped his hand. 'I'm begging you, Mickey: Help me. If Daisy gets hurt, then I wouldn't want to go on living anyway.'

Mickey looked at her intently for a very long time. She saw something in his eyes but she couldn't understand what it was. Tension? Anxiety? Or relief? The artist Goya, who was suddenly struck deaf, had once said that it gave him the ability to see what was really there, and not what he wastoldto see.

'Okay,' said Mickey at last, dry-mouthed.

'So where? Tell me where he is.'

'He's in a house about five miles south of Bonneville, about an hour along the valley.'

'How am I going to find it?'

Mickey stood up. 'I'll take you there. You're under too much stress to find it yourself. Besides, if I come with you, you stand at least a half-decent chance of getting out of there in one piece.'

'You don't know how much I appreciate this.'

'Hey, I have a very soft spot for Daisy. I'm Uncle Mickey, remember?'

'Yes, you're Uncle Mickey.'

He checked his watch. 'Let me go first?. I'm parked around the corner by Kendrick's. It's very important that nobody knows that we left together.'

'What shall I tell Marcella?'

'Tell her-I don't know-tell her that you called one of Daisy's friends and they think they know where she is. Tell her she can go home.'

'Mickey? thank you.'

'Yeah,' he said. 'Right.'

Surprise Surprise

It started to thunder as they drove eastward on Interstate 84, along the Columbia River Valley. Holly couldn't hear it, but whenever the lightning flashed, she could see that the clouds were purple.

Mickey drove as fast as he could, but the rain was hammering down so hard that he could hardly see anything in the darkness up ahead of them, and when another car came toward them, the windshield was filled with brilliant spangles of blinding light.

Because it was so dark, it was difficult for them to have a conversation, but as they neared the Bonneville turnoff, Holly touched Mickey's arm. 'What shall I say?' she asked him. Mickey turned to her so that she could see his lips in the light from the instrument panel.

'Don't volunteer anything. Just ask Krauss what he wants and tell him you agree. Don't challenge him. Don't lose your temper. Don't call him any names.'

'I'm okay, Mickey. I've had to deal with worse people than Merlin Krauss.'

'I don't think so. Not yet.'

The road became a track and the forest all around them was as black as the forest in a fairy tale, where people wore dark cloaks and slippery shoes. Mickey's Aurora wasn't designed for off-road driving, and they jounced and jolted through puddles and potholes.

Mount Hood was so close now that Holly had to bend her head down to see it. Every now and then its snow-covered peak was lit up by oddly colored flashes of lightning.

'Ass end of noplace at all,' said Mickey.

After nearly fifteen minutes, with branches and briers scraping at the car's paint, they turned up a sharp left-hand hairpin, and there stood a large cedar-built house on stone pillars with a wide deck outside. Eight or nine vehicles were parked outside, most of them luxury-edition Jeeps and Toyotas. The large windows of the house were all brightly lit, and as she climbed out of Mickey's car Holly could see people moving around inside.

'Merlin Krauss is holed up here? It looks more like a party than a hideout.'

Mickey said nothing but took hold of her elbow and led her up the steps to the deck. As they approached the house, a patio door slid open and a young man appeared through the net curtains, holding a glass of sparkling wine in his hand. He was wearing a black turtleneck sweater and slacks, and at first Holly didn't realize who he was. But then he lifted his glass and said, 'Mickey! You did it! You're a genius!'

He was the young lawyer whose lascivious conversation she had lip-read in the coffee shop in the courthouse, the one who had admired her 'gazongas.'

Holly frowned at Mickey and said, 'What's going on? What'shedoing here?'

The young lawyer stepped back and gave her a mock bow, 'Kenneth T. Mulgrew Junior, at your service, but just for tonight you can call me Kennie. Divorce settlements and prenuptial agreements a specialty, not necessarily in that order.'

'Mickey, what the hell's going on? Where's Daisy? Where's Krauss?'

She tried to twist her elbow away but Mickey gripped it tightly. 'Come on inside, Holly. There's some people who can't wait to meet you.'

'Mickey-let go of me, you're hurting.'

Mickey pulled her