A few minutes later, she had the answer. “We’re on private land owned by FAC developers. This is listed as a storage shed, according to what my boss could learn from the coordinates I gave him. There aren’t any government buildings within miles of here, according to him.”

  Lee reached out and took her hand. “Then somebody is trying to ward off trespassers with a bit of a con. That doesn’t make it necessarily illegal, just suspicious. I’ll get us closer and we can check it out. There has to be a gate somewhere.”

  “Just follow Glover’s motorcycle tracks.”

  “Exactly.”

  Three minutes later, they were standing beside the tall, heavy-gauge chain-link fence, peering at what looked more like a concrete blockhouse or bunker than a residence. The building was very low, barely a story high. It had no visible windows, a metal roof, and a recessed entryway with a single door. Ten feet away, attached to the fence, was an official-looking sign that read FEDERAL FACILITY. NO TRESPASSING.

  “So where’s the gate, Lee?” Diane whispered. “Glover parked the Harley under the tree back there.”

  Lee was searching the ground for tracks, but was not finding any. “We’ll walk the fence line until we find a gate or signs of any hidden entrance. I can climb the fence, but you would have trouble.”

  She felt the mesh of the fence, then looked up. “Yeah, the weave of the wire is too small to get a foothold, and I can’t see pulling myself up this thing and down the other side by my fingertips, even if I could make it over the barbed wire sticking out at the top.”

  “And your climbing gear is in your other purse, right?”

  “Along with my cutting torch and bolt cutters. Let’s keep looking. Gotta be a way inside for us non-you-know-whats,” Diane whispered.

  Several minutes later, after walking the entire perimeter of the square enclosure, they found themselves back where they’d started. If there was a hidden entrance on the ground or within a thicket, they hadn’t found it, and they’d looked.

  “If Glover actually got inside that fence, he certainly did a good job of hiding any tracks getting there,” Lee said, frustrated. “He has very good skills, obviously, when he’s working at avoiding detection. And the more careful he is, the more curious I get about what he’s hiding.”

  Diane reached over and touched Lee’s arm. “You really think you can scale the fence? We’ve got to know why he came here. This would be a perfect place to hold a kidnap victim. Hard to find, off the maps with no road leading in, and nearly impossible for vandals to penetrate.”

  “Yeah, and no obvious way into the building except through a solid-looking door. Looks like heavy-gauge steel from here,” Lee said, his eyes on the recessed entryway. He kicked at the ground. “Just as hard packed here as everywhere else we checked. I could go and get a shovel, but it looks like this fence goes down into the ground a ways. I can dig like a gopher, but still …” He looked up one more time at the top of the fence. “I’ll use my jacket to cover the barbs, I guess.”

  “Be careful. Once you’re over, I’ll try and find what route Glover took driving out of here. It wasn’t the way he came in,” Diane pointed out, “or we would have seen the second set of tracks. It should be safe using my flashlight, as long as I keep it aimed low.”

  “Okay. Call me if anything goes down, like you spot Glover coming our way,” Lee said. “And you don’t have to stick around to watch me climb. It shouldn’t take long for me to reach the top, and once I’m up there, I’ll swing up and over the barbed wire.”

  “You won’t break your neck, legs, or something?”

  “Nah. I’m kinda light on my feet,” he said, then smiled.

  “I’ve noticed. Still, I’d like to stick around a moment and see this,” Diane said.

  “Just keep your distance in case I miss or something.”

  She took a step back. “Don’t tease me like that. Okay?”

  He saw her expression and felt a little guilty. “Don’t worry so much.” Lee put on his leather gloves, having no need to wear them at night, but keeping them in a pocket in case something happened and he couldn’t get inside or beneath shade by dawn. Sunblock tended to rub off his hands when he was active.

  Next, Lee removed his leather jacket and draped it over one shoulder. He checked to make sure his pistol was secure, then took five steps back and picked a spot to shoot for. Taking a deep breath, he sprinted forward and leaped. Arms and fingers extended, he reached for the steel top rail just below the first strand of barbed wire, nineteen or so feet up. The move was awkward, because he had to keep his head tilted back.

  “Gotcha.” His face was so close to the bottom strand of barbed wire that angled out at a forty-five-degree angle—the reason for arching his neck back—it was out of focus. His lead had been as vertical as possible to keep him from bouncing off the mesh, so when his chest hit the wire, he’d barely made a sound, if that mattered. He’d been more worried about the impact anyway.

  “Whoa!” Diane muttered from somewhere below. “Be careful,” she whispered, then Lee heard her walk off.

  Once Lee was certain of his grip, he rocked back and forth a little, testing the sway of the fence. The structure had been constructed solidly, with upright poles every ten feet and tight mesh. The thing barely moved at all.

  Concentrating on his next move, Lee let go with his right hand, slipped the jacket off his shoulder, and began the process of draping it over the barbed wire with one hand. Angled out from brackets attached to the uprights, the fence was designed to keep people with less-than-professional climbing and acrobatic skills from getting over. At least the builder hadn’t used razor or concertina wire.

  The barbs were dulled and rusted out a bit, so they didn’t snag too much, though Lee knew it was going to lower the resale value of his favorite jacket considerably. Maybe he could write it off on his expense vouchers.

  He’d scaled fences like this one before, though not one quite this high, so Lee knew his tactics would work. At the end of World War II, when he’d gone after the German vampire who’d turned him, circumstances had required him to enter and exit facilities surrounded by protective walls and high fences like these.

  Now came the tricky part, turning around and grabbing the bottom strand of barbed wire, placing his back to the fence. Throwing out his right arm and pivoting at the shoulder, he reached up and gripped the leather-covered wire. His left hand got nothing but air, however, and he swayed to the right, dangling from one hand.

  Lee went with the motion, then kicked back to the left, bringing his free hand up again. This time he got a solid grip. Once his body was still again, both hands secure, Lee pulled himself up, raising his legs up and kicking backward, doing a backward flip over the fence just high enough to clear the wires.

  Releasing both hands, his body did a three-sixty in the air. He arched over the top wire, barely, and his thighs and knees bounced into the inside of the fence this time. Lee grabbed the mesh with his fingertips, held position for a second, then slid rapidly to the ground, braking just enough to make what was essentially a controlled fall. He was inside the enclosure now, safely to earth.

  He turned around, examining the rectangular block structure, which was pretty much centered within the fenced-in square. His jacket was still up there atop the wire, but he’d get it later, on the way out. It would be much easier going up and over from this side since no backward flip was required.

  As he walked toward the recessed entrance, Lee realized that the small building was even lower than he’d noticed before, probably only ten feet high, not including the metal roof. The structure had either been built for short people, or had foundations several feet deep. It reminded him of the entrance to a bunker or underground garage—or a disguised fallout shelter from the Cold War era.

  The entrance was a low tunnel, also of cinder block, and his head almost touched the ceiling. There were no fixtures for lights, only a metal door set in a metal frame. There was a grab handle and a strong brass lock of a type he recognized. The place had been designed to keep intruders at bay, and a burglar would need a drill, sledgehammer and heavy tools, torch, or explosives to get beyond this door.

  Unless, of course, you knew how to pick the lock and Lee had that skill. A vampire unable to get in out of the sun quickly was vulnerable, so any nightwalkers who hadn’t learned how to pick even the finest of locks could quickly make an ash of themselves. The ability to break into buildings was almost as important as sunblock, and sometimes even vampire strength wasn’t enough to defeat a well-constructed entrance.

  Lee’s pocketknife was more than a bladed tool. With the lock picks it contained, he was able to unlock the door. As he did, he heard a faint click, but it was a familiar sound, the right one.

  He didn’t open the door, not yet. Another quick look around the mechanism and jamb was necessary—in case there was an alarm. The fine New Mexico dust that covered everything, all the time, showed no smudge marks whatsoever, fortunately. So either Glover hadn’t come in this way, or they were on a wild-goose chase. Lee banked on the alternate entrance theory. It made sense.

  Then, his sharp hearing attuned, he heard someone breathing. Lee pulled on the handle, opened the door a few more inches, and saw another fence. He stepped into a small, cool, unlit room, letting the door close behind him as he studied the interior. The fence was actually a large, welded-steel hardware cloth cage welded to a steel frame and bolted to the concrete floor. Crowded inside the four-foot-high, ten-foot-square structure was a cot, a plastic chair like those used on patios, some kind of portable toilet, and a cardboard box with packaged food, water, and other supplies. There was a bulky shape on the cot beneath a blanket. Lee’s heart almost stopped.

  “Timothy? Timothy Klein?” Lee asked gently.

  The blanket moved, and Lee saw a face he recognized from photos. It was the boy!

  “Who are you?”

  “I’m a police officer—a friend. I’ve come to get you out of here and take you to your parents,” Lee said, relieved and happy to see the boy alive and apparently unhurt.

  “I can’t see you. My flashlight batteries ran out and he didn’t leave me any new ones. Turn on the lantern. Please?” Timothy said, his voice shaky as he sat up on the cot and swung his legs around. He had a small flashlight in his hand.

  Lee noticed a battery-powered lantern in the corner of the room. It was the only object in the room outside the cage. He walked over and turned it on, bathing the space in a pale, yellow light. Timothy stood, blanket wrapped around him loosely. His pale blue eyes were blinking from the sudden glare.

  “Are you injured in any way?” Lee asked, his earlier relief giving way to anger as he thought of the kidnapper and the ordeal the boy had already endured.

  “No, I’m okay,” he answered. “I was worried you might be wearing a mask. The big man who brought me here always has one on, except when he pretends to be a woman. How did you see me in the dark?”

  Lee ignored the question. “Was there more than one man? And how did you find out he wasn’t really a woman?”

  “I only saw one person at a time, and the voice was about the same. When I first saw him, down off the highway, he had on sunglasses, makeup, lipstick and stuff, black gloves, and a long wig, kinda gray and black. He also had on a long green dress with flowers on it, like old ladies wear. He was pretending to look for a lost puppy in that culvert, but when I got off my bike to help, he grabbed me. He taped up my hands and feet and my mouth, so I couldn’t yell for help. Then he put a pillow cover over my head and put me in the back of his van. After that, he was wearing a Halloween mask and regular guy clothes. You know, jeans, long-sleeved shirt, boots. And his voice was different, not soft anymore, but still the same person. Can we go now? He said he’d hurt my mom and dad if I ran away or told anyone about him.” Timothy set the blanket on the cot. He was wearing dirty jeans of his own and a sweatshirt, but was barefoot.

  “Why don’t you put on your shoes and socks while I open this cage?” Lee looked at the big padlock, brought out his pocketknife, then went to work.

  “The man took them. But I can still walk. Do you have keys to all the locks?” Timothy stepped over to where Lee was working, curious despite the situation.

  “Don’t need one.” Just then the lock came open. Lee could see tears forming in the boy’s eyes as he removed the lock and opened the framed, steel-mesh door.

  Timothy hesitated, not really trusting Lee, apparently.

  “Grab the blanket and anything else you want to take with you, Timothy.” Lee checked out the big entry door on the opposite side of the room, then did another quick survey of the room. There were old-looking charts and diagrams attached to the walls. Age had caused them to come loose in places. They had information on edible plants, first aid, and survival tips. From their content, Lee realized one of his guesses had been right. This place had been constructed as a fallout shelter, probably back in the fifties or early sixties. There was a small vent in the floor, which let in fresh air, but it was too small for anything larger than a cat to crawl through.

  “Timothy. Did the man use that door?” Lee pointed, realizing from the size of the interior that there must be another ground-level room.

  “Yes, but he locked it on the other side, I think. And people call me Tim. Except for my mom when she yells at me.” He managed a weak grin. Then he stepped out of the cage, holding the blanket wrapped around his shoulders. It was really cool in here, Lee realized.

  “The man who kidnapped you. Would you know him if you saw him again?”

  “Maybe, if he had on lipstick and stuff. But except for the time when he had on the wig and makeup, he was wearing a mask that covered his whole head. It was some cartoon guy he called Tricky Dick. I didn’t look at him too closely when he was wearing a dress. Guess I should have, huh?”

  “When did he come here last?”

  “Yesterday, maybe. Or two days ago. I’ve gotten hungry five times since then. That’s the only way I can tell time without my watch. He took it when he took my shoes and socks,” Timothy replied. “But let’s go, okay, before he comes back?”

  “I can protect you, Tim.” Lee showed the boy he was carrying a pistol. “But we’re leaving, so don’t worry.” Lee walked over to the door and checked the lock. It was the same type as the one on the other door.

  Tim joined him. “Can you open this one, too?”

  “Sure. Get the lamp for me, okay? Just don’t touch it anywhere except at the handle.”

  “The man had gloves on. Remember?”

  “Maybe he forgot to wear gloves when he handled it earlier.” Tim carried the light over by the bail, holding it carefully, away from his body. “Or when he put in the batteries.”

  “Now you’re thinking.” Lee could see that Tim was starting to calm down a little, looking a little less like a deer in the headlights than before. Also, helping out would give him something to do, and later, he might not remember that the Indian state policeman could see in the dark.

  Lee had the door open in thirty seconds. Tim handed him the lantern, then, together, they walked into the next room. It was smaller and had a trapdoor in the floor, covered by a thick, steel door with massive hinges. There was a big hasp, but no padlock. After all, Glover had to be able to get in.

  “How did you get in here before, Tim? Did you have to climb up some stairs?” Lee asked.

  “A ladder. I almost fell because it was really dark and I was scared.” Tim stepped forward. “We have to lift up this door and climb down into the tunnel. It’s narrow and smells like dirt,” Tim said.

  Lee raised the trapdoor and found a metal ladder leading down into a narrow passage. “I’ll go first, but you stay right behind me, okay, Tim?”

  “Okay. I just want to get out of here, Officer … ?”

  “Officer Hawk, Tim.” Lee turned and shook the boy’s hand, then climbed quickly down the ladder. The floor was safe for the boy to walk on barefoot, but once they got outside, Lee would have to carry him if they needed to make any speed. As Tim followed, Lee led them along the block-lined tunnel, which was less than five feet high, forcing him to stoop. The space smelled funky and was very dusty toward the far end, but the area was dry and solid looking, and there were no major spiderwebs, something Diane would have noticed and commented on immediately.

  After about fifty feet, they came to the end of the tunnel—a blank wall and another ladder. Above was a skillfully constructed and expertly fitted trapdoor, complete with copper weather stripping. There was a set of sturdy hinges, and two large deadbolts welded onto the door that would fit into the strong metal frame when latched. But the locking mechanism was intended to keep someone out, not in. Lee pushed on the door. It was heavy, probably weighing fifty pounds or more, and dust cascaded down around the edges as it opened.

  Lee climbed up the ladder and out onto a small hill he remembered passing before. The top of the door was the color of the ground, sculpted with a fake, undulating layer of rock to disguise its size and shape. Brush growing around the spot had also helped conceal the location, and the handle for lifting was a rock anchored in place. In addition, Glover had covered the outline around the edges with dirt, obviously, or he or Diane might have seen it earlier.

  The fence to the compound was ten feet away, beyond two trees, and the building another fifteen or so feet farther. He heard movement and saw Tim coming up the ladder, excitement growing in his eyes.

  Lee reached down with a hand.

  “I’m okay, Officer Hawk,” Tim said. “I just want to go home.”

  “It won’t be long now,” Lee said, then reached for his cell phone. Wherever Diane was, she had to hear the good news. If things went smoothly, Tim Klein would be with his parents within the hour.

  Two hours later, Lee and Diane were driving south again. They’d scored a sweet victory today. Lee would always remember handing Tim Klein over to his parents, then seeing the family driving off in a black SUV to a safe house, where they’d remain in protective custody.