Luke guessed either the flowers had been used as a way of persuading a careful young woman to open her door, or their delivery had shown her she was no longer safe in her apartment and she'd run. Whoever bought the bouquet might have been dumb enough to pay with a credit card. In any case, if the purchase could be traced quickly enough, the sales assistant might just remember the customer. The problem was the sheer number of florists in San Antonio, which meant any check was going to take time. There weren't enough hours in the day, which is why he ate into the night, but even he needed to sleep. Luke switched off his desk light and went home.

Chapter Fourteen.

When Luke knocked on Jerry Matthews' door and held up his badge, he didn't miss the wary expression that flashed across the guy's face.

"I'm Detective Luke Foster and this is Detective Gil Santiago. You used an ATM at Colonial Plaza on Saturday night. We want to talk to you about what you might have seen."

The slump in the shoulders told Luke he'd seen something. They refused the offer of coffee from his wife and followed Jerry through to the den.

"Tell us what happened," Luke said.

"I drew out my money and was driving away when I saw a girl struggling with a guy. I drove back. I have a daughter of my own." He swallowed nervously, his hands scratching his knees.

"Go on," Luke said, as he made notes. "Start at the beginning. I don't care if you don't think it's relevant, just tell us." Luke wrote down the garbled account of what happened and glanced at Gil.

"What did the girl look like?" Gil asked.

"Tall, long dark hair. She wore a little denim skirt." Luke took Kate's photo from his folder. "Is this her?"

"Yeah, that's her."

"What about the man?" Gil asked.

"White guy, taller than me. He wore a baseball cap, but he had fair hair. Light shirt, dark chinos. Slim, but strong. He was a real muscular guy."

"Clean shaven?"

Jerry nodded.

"Local?"

"Sounded Texan, though I'm not sure about local."

"How old?"

"Mid-twenties, maybe."

"Would you recognize him again?"

Jerry hesitated. "Maybe."

"He scare you?" Gil asked.

"He threatened me and my family. He looked in my wallet. He knows where we live." He began to breathe more heavily.

"You didn't think to call 911?" Gil asked.

"I love my wife. I didn't want anything to happen to her. Nor to my daughter." Luke tried not to show his frustration.

"What about his vehicle?" Gil asked.

"Chevy Suburban. Dark. Not new. Tinted windows. Texas plate, but I didn't see the number, I'm sorry. I just wanted to get out of there."

"We'd like you to sit with one of our specialists to try and work up a computer image of this guy. We believe he abducted the girl from her apartment."

"Dear God."

Once they were sure they had as much information as they could get, Luke and Gil left. They made no comment about time being lost because Jerry hadn't come forward sooner. They understood his concern about his wife and child. They were concerned about Kate. The tape from the ATM camera was on its way to the station. They might get more from that, but Luke wasn't holding his breath.

The last transaction on Kate's card had been at 12:20 a.m. at a gas station in Drillo. Another five hundred. The account was too depleted to bother using it again. Kate's credit card was already tagged as stolen. If it was used anywhere, they'd hear about it.

Flo brought Luke the printouts of the digital photos he'd taken in Kate's apartment.

"I've got an idea about the flowers," she said.

"Pull up a seat."

"I talked to a friend who runs a flower shop. She recognized the wrapping paper, said maybe the classier places would use it. Not the grocery stores so that's a good break. That type of bouquet would cost between sixty and seventy dollars, slightly more at the upscale shops. Tomorrow, I thought I'd start calling the florists nearest the girl's apartment and work out in circles, looking for purchases on Friday and Saturday. I've downloaded a list of stores."

"That's good work, Flo." Luke flashed her a smile.

"Now the bad news."

"How did I guess?"

"Three hundred florists in the city."

Luke whistled. "Shit and I'm wondering if it's enough to look at those two days.

Could they have been purchased on Thursday?"

"Maybe, but they'd be wilting by Saturday."

"Would he care?"

Flo nodded. "True."

"Anything else?" Luke asked.

"Too many maybes. Did he buy the flowers and deliver them himself? He could have changed the wrapping paper, or picked up a gift card from a different store.

He might have made the purchase in another city or ordered them over the Internet. If he's really sneaky, he could have bought each variety in a different store and made the bouquet. Unfortunately, there's nothing significant about the varieties. My friend reckons they're standard."

"Okay, start by finding the wholesaler of this wrapping paper and get a list of florists they supply. Scan the paper into the computer and email them details. We need telephone orders as well as personal callers, and separate lists of those who took the flowers away and those who requested delivery. But for the moment, let's concentrate on those who collected."

"I'll start phoning as soon as they re-open."

"Thanks, Flo."

Luke went through the photographs and his notes about Kate's apartment. She lived a neat, orderly life. Her books and CDs revealed nothing significant. No trace of drug-taking or alcohol abuse. She didn't smoke. No angst-ridden diaries.

He'd issued a request for full access to her medical records, but chances were virtually zero of getting it. He needed to talk with Jeannie Lawrence again, get her to look around the apartment, see if she could spot anything missing or out of place.

He didn't think Kate knew the person who'd abducted her. If she had, she'd have left a name. The broken flowers were another indication she'd gone unwillingly. Luke's guess was the guy barged in and pushed the flowers in her face, persuaded her to pack and drove her away, stopping a couple of times to draw money from her account.

But the motive wasn't money. Few kidnap cases were. Much easier to rob a convenience store than abduct a person. If you didn't kill them, you had to look after them, give them food, keep them from escaping. The only motive for kidnapping a twenty year old, with no rich parents to pay a ransom, had to be sex.

Had she refused to go out with him? Insulted him? Though that didn't sound like the Kate he was coming to know. But if this guy wanted sex, why not rape her in her apartment, then either kill her or leave her?

Only one out of three abductions ended with the victim still alive. Most were killed within a short time of being taken. Luke feared he was looking for a body.

Chapter Fifteen.

"This is it," Jack said.

Kate opened her eyes and caught the sign as they sped past.

Echo Lake, Colorado, population 656.

"Hey, Tommy," Jack said. "See that place? Harper's? My mom used to take me there for ice cream. They did a delicious hot fudge sundae. Probably still do."

"I want ice cream," Tommy said.

Jack drove through the town without stopping.

"I thought we got here." Tommy struggled in his seat, trying to get free. Kate reached to catch his hands and winced when the movement set fire to her back.

"We're almost there," Jack said.

"I'm thirsty," Tommy muttered.

Kate gave him another carton of juice. She knew he didn't really want it. One suck and he pushed it away. Kate gave his fingers a little squeeze.

"I want to get out," he whined.

"Soon," she soothed.

She made an effort to remember what they passed. Several large properties had snowmobiles parked in driveways and powerboats stored under tarpaulins. A fishing camp sat on the right, but the place looked deserted, probably closed for the winter. A couple of miles out of town, even the single dwellings had gone. No more clusters of mailboxes, not even single ones. Nothing but dark forest.

Jack turned left onto a rough gravel road and they moved away from the water, leaving pillars of dust in their wake. After a few hundred yards, he took a right fork on to a more rutted dirt track winding deeper into the forest. Trees rose up on either side like iron grilles and although it was the middle of the day, it didn't seem like that anymore. They passed a sign saying Private. No Trespassers' and Kate shivered.

When Jack pulled up and switched off the engine, there was no road left to follow. They were in a dirt yard, knee-high in dried grass and weeds. On one side was a closed-up split level ranch house. On the other was a shed with a rusty basketball hoop fixed above its double doors. Straight ahead between the trees was the glimmer of water from another lake. Kate could see no phone line, no neighbors. The house wasn't dilapidated, but it had an air of desolation as though it had lain empty for a long time.

Jack opened the doors to let them out of the car and although Tommy climbed into his arms, he squirmed free to stand on his own. Kate shivered. It was cold and she only wore a thin yellow dress, stiff with dried blood and sticking to her skin.

"Cold?" Jack rummaged in the back of the vehicle and threw her a sweater.

Kate tried not to cry out as she pulled it on.

"Where are we?" she asked.

"Echo Lake." Jack stared at the house. "I used to come here with my mom."

"Mommy?" Tommy called and headed toward the house.

Jack yanked him back. Tommy yelped and Kate bit her lip.

"How many times do I have to tell you? We're your mommy and daddy." The boy's face crumpled like a screwed up ball of paper and he burst into tears.

Kate lifted him and Tommy clung to her, pressing his face into her shoulder, making her wince and bite her tongue from the pressure on her back.

"It's okay, Tommy, don't worry, everything will be okay." She spoke quietly, rocking and patting him. "We're on vacation and we're going to have fun. Don't cry. Hey, no more time in the car. That's something to be happy about." Jack walked around the side of the house and re-emerged waving a set of keys.

He unlocked the shutters, clicking them back in place. Tommy's long shuddering breaths gradually subsided as he turned in Kate's arms to watch Jack. The door and screen were protected by a rusty lattice frame secured by a padlock. Jack unfastened the frame, stood it to one side and then pulled open the screen and secured it on a hook.

"Come here." He unlocked the door.

Kate went to his side. Whatever she decided to do, she wouldn't be doing it that day. She had to think this out.

"I want to go home." Tommy began to cry again.

"This is home," Jack said.

They stepped into a cabin larger than it looked from outside. A central stone fireplace stood open to rooms either side. Drab rugs bearing the hint of brighter colors lay scattered over the pine board floor. A basic kitchen ran down one side with a sink and old fashioned stove. Four chairs sat around a heavy wooden dining table. On the other side of the room, mattresses covered in plastic leaned against two doors. A new refrigerator stood in its packing case by the sink. A thick mat of dust covered everything but the mattresses and the fridge. At their feet, footprints stood out as clearly as if they'd been made in snow.

Jack moved the mattresses to one side and opened the first door. "Bathroom.

The other one's your room, Tommy."

Tommy responded by clinging tighter to Kate's neck.

On one side of the fireplace, wooden steps rose to the next level and on the other side, an archway led to the living room. Jack took Kate's elbow and guided her past a washing machine and clothes dryer to the far end of the house.