The Desert Thieves (12 page)

“Then where could they have gone?” Diane
asked. “One minute they were ahead of us, then they were gone.”

“I wonder if they could simply have gone to a different place in town,” Frank said.

Joe thought about it and nodded. “That may be,” he said. “But where? Professor, can you think of any place they would have gone?”

“I have no idea,” Townsend said with a shrug. “Maybe they stopped for gas.”

“Gas! That's it.” Joe said. “Is there a gas station that isn't on the main route into town?”

“There are a couple,” Townsend said. “You could easily have missed them.”

“Then they could have gotten gas,” Frank said, “and either returned to the motel or headed for the park.”

“So they could be anywhere,” Joe said.

“We should notify the police,” Townsend said firmly. “And I suggest we do it immediately. These men are obviously dangerous.”

Frank realized that he and Joe were going to have to move fast. Townsend could slow them down. “Professor,” he said, “I think calling the police would be a good job for you. They'll take you seriously once they find out who you are. Why don't you go up to the office and ask Grish to call for you.”

Joe caught on immediately. “Yes, Professor,” he said, “the police will respond faster if the call comes from you.”

“I'll help you replace that fuel filter right now, Professor,” Frank said.

Townsend nodded. “Diane, coming along?”

She looked first at Joe, then at Frank. “No,” she said. “I'll go with Frank and Joe.”

“We'll catch up with you at the office, Professor,” Joe said. “We have to let Grish know what's happening.”

“All right, then, I'll see you all at the office,” Townsend said, starting for his truck with Frank.

After Frank had fixed Townsend's truck and returned to the campsite, Joe said, “Frank, what did you find out about Perez? It's pretty obvious that Kidwell is involved.”

Frank grinned. “You won't believe what I learned about Perez,” he said. “First of all, he really is an artist—his trailer is full of paintings—and he's staying out here because it's cheap.”

“And second?” Joe asked.

“I don't think he's one of the cactus thieves,” Frank said. “I got him to talk about his involvement with Kidwell. It turns out that he has known Kidwell for a while. When he realized we considered Kidwell a suspect, Perez told him about it. They decided to try to get Grish off Kidwell's back by pointing the evidence toward Professor Townsend.”

At that, Diane let out a gasp. “Why?” she asked.

“Because you and your father have been here long enough to look like suspects,” Frank said.
“Perez is the one who planted that piece of organ pipe cactus under your truck. And get this: Perez also built that little trail marker near where your truck was parked. He was surprised that we took it seriously enough to spend a night up in the mountains.”

“But he didn't cut the fuel line?” Joe asked. “And he didn't sabotage the climbing rope? What about Kidwell's truck and tools? The thieves are driving his truck, and we found his shovel in the trailer with the stolen cacti. I think if Kidwell's involved, so is Perez.”

All of a sudden Perez stepped out from behind the motor home. “Pardon me for eavesdropping again, guys,” he said. “I heard you talking about me as I came up, so I stopped to listen. The answer to whether David Kidwell is one of the cactus thieves is no. I'm sure he's not. I think he's being framed.”

“Who's framing him?” Frank asked.

“I'm not sure,” Perez said.

“Wait. Could it be Grish?” Frank said. “He's the one who suggested Kidwell might be a suspect.”

“Grish? That's impossible,” Joe said. “He's investigating this case. And he's a friend of Dad's. . . .” Joe paused while he thought about Frank's suggestion. “We did see him in his office talking to that cowboy Slim,” he admitted.

“Grish could have sent the men in the yellow van to cut our fuel line,” Frank said. Joe nodded. “He
knew where we'd be. Now that I think of it, he even handled our climbing ropes before we used them last night.”

“Yeah, and he always wanted to be at the center of everything,” Joe said. “He wanted to know about any clue we found. Plus he was really serious about keeping this case under wraps.”

“Oh, my gosh!” Diane exclaimed. “If Grish is involved, my father may be talking to him right now!”

“She's right,” Joe said. “We'd better get over to the office quick!”

Frank and Joe jumped in the front seat of the car as Diane and Perez scrambled into the back. Joe spun the tires in the gravel as he sped away toward the office.

“I hope Dad's all right,” Diane said. “Sometimes he can get too indignant for his own good.”

“And if Grish is involved,” Frank said grimly, “he may be dangerous. He tried to hurt us several times.”

As they pulled into the office parking lot, they saw Grish, who appeared to be running from the direction of the pay phone. He didn't look up as they arrived but dashed to his official vehicle and drove off, leaving a cloud of dust.

“I don't like this,” Joe said.

“Me either,” Diane agreed, with an edge to her voice. “Where's my father?”

Diane jumped out of the car before Joe had even put it in park, and ran in the direction of the pay
phone, around the corner of the building. Just as Joe turned the ignition off, he heard her scream.

Frank and Joe bolted out of the car and around the building. There they found Diane, bent over her father. He lay facedown under the pay phone, the back of his head bathed in blood.

“Don't move him,” Diane said as they came up behind her. She was feeling her father's neck for a pulse. After a moment she said, “It's weak, but at least he's alive.”

“Grish must have hit him,” Frank said.

“He probably overheard the professor talking on the phone,” Joe said.

“Could be,” Frank said. “But one thing's for sure—Dad's in trouble. We have to figure out where Grish went, and fast.”

Diane looked up. “We'd better call the police right now,” she said. Then she added, “I can do that while you guys go after Grish.”

“Right,” Joe said. He touched her shoulder and said, “Good luck.”

Frank grabbed Perez's arm. “Perez,” he said, “I
want you to stay here with Diane. Grish might come back.”

Perez looked at the professor and then said, “Okay, but you guys will need some help.”

“Don't worry, we can handle it,” Joe said.

“Make sure you tell the cops exactly what's going on,” Frank said to Diane. “Maybe they can get hold of somebody at the state agriculture department. Definitely make it clear, though, that these thieves are dangerous. We've got the CB walkie-talkie in the car. If we can, we'll keep you posted.”

Joe was already revving the engine impatiently when Frank jumped into the car.

“So where are we going, anyway?” Frank said as they sped away.

“I don't know,” Joe said. “Grish probably has too much of a head start for us to catch up with him. But it's almost dark. Maybe we can spot his lights off to the side if he takes an alternate road.”

Frank said, “Maybe he'll head back to town. Didn't you say there were a couple of vehicles left at the motel?”

Joe nodded. “That's true,” he said. “The yellow van was still there when we left, and so was Kidwell's pickup truck. It's a long shot, but maybe we should head for the motel if we don't spot Grish along the way.”

“It's possible the thieves were supposed to get together back at the motel,” Frank said. “If they were smart, they'd be miles from here by now.”

“Yeah,” Joe said, “but don't forget that the two
guys in the trucks don't know we're on their trail. They probably think they're only pulling off one more job tonight, as the boss told them.”

“Grish, the boss,” Frank said. “Who'd have thought it? He seemed so dedicated to preserving the desert. I wonder what pushed him into doing this.”

“Maybe it was money,” Joe said. “He told us those big cacti are worth a lot.”

“I have a feeling it's more than money,” Frank said. “He's willing to hurt somebody.”

“I don't care how angry he is,” Joe said. “If he hurts Dad, he'll have more trouble on his hands than he knows what to do with.”

Frank nodded. “That's the truth,” he said quietly. “If he's smart, he'll just keep on going and forget about tonight's job.”

“Yeah,” Joe said. “But I have a feeling he's not that smart.”

“That's what I'm afraid of,” Frank said.

Joe pushed the car to its limit as they rode in silence, trying not to think about what could happen to their father if they didn't find him soon.

As they passed the motel in town, they saw the yellow van parked where it had been earlier. Beside it was Kidwell's truck.

“There!” Frank said, pointing. “On the other side of the parking lot. See it? Grish's truck. He's here.”

Joe continued driving for another block and then parked as they devised a plan.

“No sign of the big trucks, though,” Frank said. “I wonder what that means.”

“I don't know,” Joe said. “Maybe they came back here after I saw them leave, and then left again. They could already be out in Organ Pipe somewhere, getting ready to pull another job.”

“They could be anywhere,” Frank said. “Let's catch up with Grish first.”

Joe turned around and drove back, parking around the corner from the motel so they could reconnoiter. As they approached Grish's truck, the door to one of the bungalows was flung open. A man, hidden by the long, obviously heavy bundle he was carrying over his shoulder, shuffled out toward the open side door of the yellow van. The bundle could have been a rolled-up carpet or a small cactus. More likely, though, it could have been a body wrapped in a blanket.

With a shout, the boys bolted toward the man, who hefted the bundle into the van and stepped in after it. He pulled the door shut behind him. Before the boys could reach him, he started the engine and backed the van straight toward them. As they dodged to keep from getting run over, he sped past them, swerved around, and then tore away down the street. When he swerved, they saw that Grish was driving.

“C'mon, Frank,” Joe called as they ran to their car. They jumped in and raced after the van. “That might have been Dad he was loading in there,” Joe
said. “How can we make him stop without getting Dad hurt?”

“I don't know,” Frank said. “Wait, look! He's pulling over. This is way too easy. Something must be wrong.”

The van swerved to the side of the road, and as they came up behind it, the bundle was tossed out the side and the van sped away.

Joe slammed on the brakes, then pulled off the road. Frank jumped out and ran to the bundle. “Dad?” he called. “Dad, are you in there? Are you okay? Oh, man, I hope you're okay.”

Leaving the engine running, Joe jumped out to join his brother. “Be careful, Frank,” he said. “Dad, can you hear me? Dad?”

There was no answer. The van was disappearing in the distance.

“Take a corner of the carpet,” Frank said. “We'll open it slowly so we don't hurt him.”

Together they peeled back the carpet, turning it slowly and unrolling it. Finally they unwrapped enough to see there was a person inside, with his mouth, wrists, and ankles taped.

But it wasn't Fenton. It was David Kidwell.

Frank removed the tape from Kidwell's mouth while Joe cut the tape from his wrists and ankles with his pocketknife. Kidwell seemed to have been drugged. He could hardly move and could only mumble unintelligibly.

“Let's get him in the car,” Frank said. They lifted Kidwell and deposited him in the backseat. As Joe got the car on the road again, speeding after the van, Frank leaned over the back of the passenger seat and tried to talk to Kidwell.

“David, where were they taking you?” he asked.

Kidwell's mumbling was louder now as he made an effort to speak, but he was still incoherent.

“It's okay, David,” Frank said. “We'll get you to a doctor soon.”

Kidwell groaned and tried to sit up.

“David,” Frank said, “Grish and those other guys have our father somewhere. We're trying to catch up, but we've lost them. Do you know where they were taking you?”

Kidwell became quiet, then finally muttered a word.

“What was that?” he asked. “I couldn't understand you.”

Kidwell opened his mouth and slowly repeated the word. “A-la-mo,” he said.

“Alamo?” Frank asked him. “Is that what you said? Is that the name of a place?”

“A-la-mo,” Kidwell repeated, waving his hand as if to point.

Joe said, “Maybe there's a place on the map called Alamo. Grab the map, Frank.”

Joe turned on the dome light as Frank unfolded the map.

“It could be anywhere,” Frank said, scanning the topographic map. “Let's hope it's close by. Wait, here's something, not far from the highway through the park. Alamo Wash, it's called.”

“Sounds like a Laundromat,” Joe said.

“A wash is a dry riverbed,” Frank said. “David, can you hear me? Is Alamo Wash what we're looking for?”

But Kidwell did not stir.

“They must have drugged him,” Frank said. “Let's head for Alamo Wash and hope that's where they've taken Dad. Take the turnoff for the park. The wash crosses the highway about three or four
miles inside. In the meantime I'm going to try the CB. If Perez is scanning, he can let the police know where we're going.”

He took the walkie-talkie from beneath the seat. Switching it on, he said, “Break five. Break five. Perez, are you out there?” He paused to listen to the static hiss, hoping Perez would answer.